Week 6 - The fine line of plagiarism

Influenced as we are by our experiences, a degree of imitation is surely inevitable, and some authors might be flattered to see their work inspiring others. But when does what might have been a fair intervention become suspicious?

Tolkein's The Lord of the Rings series was originally published in the 1950s and became so heavily borrowed-from that elements such as elves and orcs are now conventions (arguably clichés) of the fantasy genre, even beyond literature. Entire genres can be created via the influence of a single text, for better or worse; the world of comics has a history of superhero saturation. I don't think many people would deny that a degree of borrowing is not only acceptable, but even healthy in a creative medium.

But there are always examples that push what is generally considered acceptable. James Cameron's 2009 film Avatar was monumentally successful, but met with a wave of accusations, citing its functional similarities to Pocahontas and Dances with Wolves, among others. However, I would argue that while the elements taken are considerable, their specific selection and arrangement is itself unique. In other words, a string of unoriginal ideas were combined to create an ultimately original product. But is this just an excuse, or a legitimate method for creating new texts?

“The beauty of a living thing is not the atoms that go into it, but the way those atoms are put together.”- Carl Sagan

Week 5 - A story is your letter to the world

I've previously explained my view that an author is largely doomed to include something of themselves in what they write. Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales, though never finished, gives great insight into the society and mindset of medieval Europe, both from the subject matter and the author's attempts at satire. Either consciously or otherwise, any piece of writing has the potential to tell the world much about the author's opinions and agendas.

How much of what is given away is conscious and how much isn't? That's a hard question to answer, but I suspect that the less one is aware of one's influences, the more obvious they might be through one's work. Sitting down with the express intention of writing a piece meant to convince may, in fact, give away less of oneself than simply writing what seems the most straightforward. The message one hopes to convey and the interpretations your writing generates are, after all, under no obligation to conform to one another.

Perhaps, then, the most honest messages that our writing carries are those we never even realised were present?

Week 4 - Society and politics

Is it necessary for a writer to write about the social/political issues of their time? Without question, all authors are surely influenced by their environment, society and politics being merely parts of a wider cultural web. I seriously wonder if it's even possible for writers to avoid these influences any more than they can avoid their mammalian traits.

But whether something is inevitable and whether it is necessary are two separate questions. After all, works such as The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx have had clear effects on the world, and may not have if their authors hadn't lived in the society that they had. Granted, not all fiction is intended to challenge mindsets or inspire great art, though an author's intentions sometimes have little bearing on the actual reception.

My point is that the world would surely be a different place, for better or worse, had great authors not lived the lives they had. Hitler's Mein Kampf has undeniable historical significance, giving insight into one of the most pivotal figures of the twentieth century, and wouldn't be so if not for the man who wrote it. So in this sense, I would argue that while not every writer needs to include their culture or political inclinations, the ones who do have the potential to die in a different world from that they were born in.

Week 3 - Protagonists embodying the authors

We've all heard that it's best to write what you know. To this end, it's hardly surprising that a number of authors inject much of themselves into their protagonists. The reasoning is, of course, that it's easier to use one's own personality, or at least an emulation of it, than to conjure up a unique character from nowhere. But if a protagonist embodies the flaws and weaknesses of the writer, does that distract from the narrative?

Such a general question makes it hard to give a conclusive answer. Consider, for instance, that an author may not consciously give a protagonist elements of their own mindset or ethics. Certainly, there have been times when I've written something and only realised upon reading it that a slice of myself has slipped between the cracks, especially in the case of first-person pieces.

Yet is this somehow detrimental? I do sometimes worry that a character might seem a little too eager to discuss certain topics, for example. Even so, if the end result is a distinct and interesting protagonist, I feel the risk is worth it. After all, surely only an audience that went to the lengths of researching an author would be especially likely to notice similarities between the creator and the creation? Beyond overtly political texts such as Animal Farm, I personally don't often raise an eyebrow at a given protagonist's manner.

No doubt there are exceptions, but I would generally conclude that protagonists benefit from sharing traits with the author.

Week 2 - Is there any place for the truth in writing?

I chiefly read and write in the interest of escapism. Hence why so much of the writing I consume and produce involves fantastic locales and larger-than-life characters. From an early age, I remember not being able to understand the appeal in something that echoes what the reader likely already sees every day. My opinion on the matter has grown a tad more complex in the years since, of course, as I now understand that a basis of truth can be required to spin a convincing fabrication.

George Orwell's description of the "beetle-like" men in Nineteen Eighty-Four was likely influenced by the author's experiences working in the Ministry of Information, among many other parts of the novel. Orwell started with his own experiences, his own truths, and used them as a seed from which to mould an extreme but not entirely implausible vision of a possible future. In a tragic twist, his prophecy may have become somewhat self-fulfilling. In this way, it could be said that a truth gave rise to a non-truth, which then ultimately helped create another truth.

Maybe that's the power of writing, though. I'd bet good money that half the world's astronomers and physicists spent their entire youth with their faces buried in Frank Herbert novels or pressed up against an image of William Shatner. A playful yet respectful attitude to the truth can indirectly affect other truths. So not only is there arguably a place for truth in writing, the effects of said writing on the truth should not be underestimated.

Week 1 - How is it I became a writer?

This question makes about as much sense as asking how it is a person became an adult; much as there is no discernible moment when you cease to be a child and are now fully-grown, surely there's no one instant where a switch is pulled and a non-writer becomes a writer? Short of being forced at gunpoint to pen a novel, it seems an unlikely scenario. It might be more fitting to ask about my history regrading writing in general.

In Negotiating with the Dead: A Writer on Writing, Margaret Atwood refers to a Japanese novel in which a man copes with a dire situation by talking to himself in his head. This echoes deeply with me, as I recall wandering the playground, acting out scenes from my multitude of doomed novel attempts, all of which were quite suspiciously similar to various media products.

Like many children of the nineties, I was brought up with Roald Dahl books and the various film adaptations of them. The latter in particular I tortured my parents with endlessly. But it was as I approached teendom that I discovered K A Applegate's Animorphs series, chronicling the adventures of shape-shifting adolescents who must battle both aliens and acne across approximately seven thousand books.

While all organisms may have to conform to their genes, I believe the experiences of life play the largest part in moulding our tastes and fears. I was raised on science fiction and videogames, and thus it should surprise nobody that my earliest recollections of writing involved flagrant clones of Pokemon and Stargate. Things just snowballed from there.