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I’m convinced that this is the oldest story in the world: a writer has a great idea. They’re brimming with enthusiasm and pumped to get their ideas on paper. Writing is a long, arduous process, but this story is totally going to be worth it. They write a chapter, maybe a second. They begin to see holes in the story, they feel like they’re maybe not ready to write something so complicated. They notice similarities to other great stories they admire – really popular ones. They realize that, actually, their story isn’t very original at all, that it’s so similar to these other things that they couldn’t possibly allow themselves to write their version, something that wouldn’t be anything more than a cheap knockoff. Nobody would read it and on the off chance that someone did, they’d ridicule it for being so derivative. They’d mock the author for having wasted everyone’s time. Discouraged and ashamed, the writer quits and their great idea, the idea they once loved so dearly, never gets the chance to grow and live in the world.

It’s a shame. The writer turns away from a hobby – at least for now – that they could have loved. They could have written that first story and learned from it and wrote another, then another, then another, each one better than the last, until they grew into more of the writer they wanted to be.

What happened?

This writer got ahead of themselves. Their concerns were unfounded and self-defeating.

What can we tell this writer to bring them back to the page?

Originality doesn’t matter

It’s been said that every story has already been told. Refer to Christopher Booker’s The Seven Basic Plots and Grant Snider’s “9 Conflicts in Literature”.

So many patterns arise in how we tell stories. So many stories that aren’t original have done well in the world. There’s even been some legal discussion about whether Harry Potter was an original idea! Intentional or not, similarities do occur and even the best authors aren’t immune.

We’re all inspired by the stories we love. It’s natural to want to build on them, create our own scenarios, design our own worlds and stories cobbled from the elements we admired. We fell in love with your favorite stories for a reason. I’d bet those stories were inspired by other stories, and those by still others and so on all the way back. We could draw a literary family tree for any book that’s ever existed!

Do we ever notice those similarities? Of course. We look at them as homage or thematic links or however we want to label the connection. The important thing is to realize that every story is in conversation with the stories that inspired them.

George Lucas fully acknowledges stories from world religions, medieval history, and mid-20th century space operas as part of the inspiration for Star Wars.

To our imaginary writer I say: Go ahead and write your version. I guarantee that whatever you end up with will be something only you could have written. You’ll have to make decisions along the way that will add up to a story that’s completely different than what you thought it would be. You’ll have moments of inspiration where you’ll say to yourself, “Wouldn’t it be cool if…?” Yes, it would be pretty cool!

Writing should be rewarding

The only reason a writer needs in order to write a story is that it’s fun and satisfying.

That’s it.

Money and fame and literary clout are nice, I imagine, but they’re not guaranteed and you don’t just get that without putting in the time first.

Writing can be a rewarding process despite the challenges of creating something in your mind and translating it to the page. We’re compelled to write because we connect with a story. It takes hold over us and the process of creation feels necessary. Enjoy it, appreciate it, and definitely don’t lose that feeling of connection - that ‘why’!

George Saunders said the best advice he ever received was from Tobias Wolff, who told him, “Just don’t lose the magic.”

Nobody’s watching!

Seriously.

Nobody cares what you write, and that’s a wonderful thing.

Are you afraid to publish your stuff online? Consider this: The internet is inundated with so many people trying to distinguish themselves that it’s difficult to stumble on one particular person. The world doesn’t need my stories and it doesn’t know they exist. I’m free to do pretty much anything I want! (Within reason - let’s keep it legal, folks) If I put my work on the internet, maybe a few people will read it - a big maybe. Most of those people will dismiss it outright, if they even read it at all. If I’m lucky, one person will find it valuable.

If your writing is awful, the worst thing that can happen is that it’ll be ignored.

If you’re worried about publicity, but you still want to publish, use a pseudonym!

Otherwise, you can keep your writing to yourself.

Write for the joy of writing.

I think of Kurt Vonnegut, of a letter he wrote in 2006 in response to a student from Xavier High School in New York:

A Letter from Kurt Vonnegut to a Xavier High School Student

November 5, 2006

Dear Xavier High School, and Ms. Lockwood, and Messrs Perin, McFeely, Batten, Maurer and Congiusta:

I thank you for your friendly letters. You sure know how to cheer up a really old geezer (84) in his sunset years. I don’t make public appearances any more because I now resemble nothing so much as an iguana.

What I had to say to you, moreover, would not take long, to wit: Practice any art, music, singing, dancing, acting, drawing, painting, sculpting, poetry, fiction, essays, reportage, no matter how well or badly, not to get money and fame, but to experience becoming, to find out what’s inside you, to make your soul grow.

Seriously! I mean starting right now, do art and do it for the rest of your lives. Draw a funny or nice picture of Ms. Lockwood, and give it to her. Dance home after school, and sing in the shower and on and on. Make a face in your mashed potatoes. Pretend you’re Count Dracula.

Here’s an assignment for tonight, and I hope Ms. Lockwood will flunk you if you don’t do it: Write a six line poem, about anything, but rhymed. No fair tennis without a net. Make it as good as you possibly can. But don’t tell anybody what you’re doing. Don’t show it or recite it to anybody, not even your girlfriend or parents or whatever, or Ms. Lockwood. OK?

Tear it up into teeny-weeny pieces, and discard them into widely separated trash recepticals. You will find that you have already been gloriously rewarded for your poem. You have experienced becoming, learned a lot more about what’s inside you, and you have made your soul grow.

God bless you all!

Kurt Vonnegut

I don’t think I can say it any better than that, so I’ll just see myself out.

Keep on writing, friends. Keep on making your soul grow!