Beware of Shapeshifters!
One minute they’re supportive, the next they undermine you. One minute they’re vulnerable, the next they ghost you. It’s hard to know if they’re friend or foe. Maybe they’re both.
“My precious…”
If you just whispered that like Gollum, congrats—you’re one of us.
Few characters in literature capture internal contradiction better than Tolkien’s tormented hobbit-turned-creature. One moment he’s Sméagol, timid and loyal. The next he’s Gollum, snarling and sinister.
He’s both. And neither.
That’s what makes him fascinating.
In Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey, this figure is known as the Shapeshifter. It’s one of the twelve classic archetypes found in nearly every story ever told. Sometimes it’s a seductive figure, a betrayer, or an ally who can’t be trusted. But the Shapeshifter’s purpose is always the same:
To keep you guessing.
To challenge the hero’s instincts.
To make you wonder what’s real.
And that’s exactly what makes it so important.
Why the Shapeshifter Is Necessary in Your Story
In real life, the people who confuse us often shape us more than the ones who are predictable.
In stories, the Shapeshifter is the test. The mirror. The gray area. They help the hero develop discernment. Emotional maturity. Boundaries. Strength.
Without them, the hero’s journey is too easy.
You don’t become wise by only being around safe, clear-cut people. You become wise by being forced to navigate complexity—especially when it’s wrapped in charisma.
Discerning and Responding to the Shapeshifters in Your Life
You probably know someone right now who has shown you both sides of themselves.
One minute they’re supportive, the next they undermine you. One minute they’re vulnerable, the next they ghost you. It’s hard to know if they’re friend or foe. Maybe they’re both. Maybe they’re neither.
That’s the nature of the shapeshifter.
Years ago, I worked with an actor on a project I was producing. He was talented, magnetic, and deeply insecure. One day he praised the script and was brilliant on camera. The next day, he locked himself in his trailer and demanded more money. At the time, I felt frustrated and betrayed. Looking back, I see that it wasn’t about me. It was about his fear. He was changing shape in real time—desperate to be seen, terrified of being irrelevant. In the end, he mostly played along and shines in the film.
The Shapeshifter demands that we grow up a little.
That we accept complexity without letting it poison us.
Sometimes the Biggest Shapeshifter in the Story Is You
There’s a reason this archetype hits hard.
Because eventually, you realize: it’s not just about other people.
You’re the one who says yes to an opportunity and then panics about it. The one who tells your kids to be present while you’re scrolling on your phone. The one who wants freedom but clings to control. The one who says you want the truth but secretly wants to stay comfortable.
I’m all of those things. At different times, with different people.
And it used to haunt me. Until I saw that maybe the Shapeshifter in me wasn’t the enemy—it was the invitation.
To be honest.
To stop pretending to be one fixed thing.
To admit that I’m a storyteller who was once a CEO, and now benefits from both. That I’m creative and strategic. That I’m drawn to clarity but live in mystery.
That sometimes I want change the world and sometimes I want a nap.
The Point
The Shapeshifter isn’t here to destroy your story.
They’re here to sharpen it.
To push you to evolve. To keep you on your toes. To make you a little less naive and a little more wise.
And that includes the shapeshifter inside your own head.