An Original Idea
“Don’t try to be original – no idea is original. Not really. Just try being yourself.”
At first, when I heard this, I was already in a low, insecure place—not only with my writing, but with myself in general. Internal turmoil, and all that stuff. Then this hit like a three-shot combo. I sat with it for a week or so (as one does when they’re trying to prove someone wrong). Dwelling what it meant to be ‘original’. No one had an original idea. Or, like me at the time, at the depths of having zero ideas that I thought were adequate. Did I want to sit and wallow until an extraordinarily unique idea placed itself on my lap, enough to electrify me out of the stagnant lull I’d found myself in as I neared the last handful of chapters of the novel I’ve been writing for almost four years? Not really. It was so depressing. So, I pushed myself to keep writing, even though it felt unoriginal, and braced myself to read back a hot mess of strung-together sentences.
What a rut I was stuck in. Surrounded by my own derivative thoughts, trying, gruellingly, to come up with whatever I could.
I stepped away for a minute (two weeks, to be specific) just to really mull over the self-deprecating reality of all.
Until I softly deleted those handful of chapters and simply wrote what I wanted. What I enjoy experiencing as a reader.
It didn’t come easy.
So, I started recalling all the types of media that brought me comfort and entertained me; from the Grimm Brothers, then scoured through my brain for the gothic short stories I remember reading in the past couple of years; then comfort shows I always return to, the movies I’ve seen (Ratatouille, most recently); even the last book I finished. If it’s not Remy getting advice from Gousteau’s ghost that ‘anyone can cook’ and it’s the matter of internal strength and belief in your dreams, then it’s the main hero in the fantasy novels that is consistently challenged and bested by the villain but continues on the fight (book after book).
Then I discovered, after sifting through the melodrama, adventure, romance, and strange creatures, that they’re all the same. At the core – foundationally – they’re not sui generis in their respective genres. But they still spoke to me just the same. And for that reason, they’ve all entrenched themselves in my psyche.
Maybe those are the two points I’m harping on about here:
It’s not original, and that’s what makes it special. It makes the audience feel seen.
It’s not original to you – but it doesn’t mean it’s not something new to someone else. Whether that’s perspective, voice, or idea.
Regardless, I remembered that bit of literature, movie, or song because it stirred something in me. Something that said I wasn’t alone. That whatever I’m going through (or I’m putting my characters through), it’s still a reminder that emotions like loneliness, grief, tear-jerking joy, and terror are all part of the human experience, regardless of the packaging around it (quests, dragons, leaves).
All I can do is be myself, and originality is intrinsically part of that package.
All the things that I love are reflective mosaics of who I am. Of course it won’t be original. Who gives a shit? It’s amusing, and it’s all about catering to the only person who matters – which is that inner child – the one that makes the dreary routine of daily life exciting, carefree and transformative. You might think she’s hard to impress, but she’s not. Throw in some vampires, dragons, metaphors about sunsets, flowers and the ocean – she’s good to go.
What I’m saying is that reframing the same phrase that’s meant to make you will break you first. That’s the whole point.
Side note: Free writing this with whatever comes up is stupendously cathartic.
