Monday, December 30, 2013

This Is My Original Title That No One Has Ever Done Before, But That is Because It Is Terrible



I recently thought to myself, “You know, the Iliad is to the Odyssey what Batman is to Zorro.” Just take a moment to let the geekiness of that statement kick in.

After half a heartbeat I doubted myself. Is this really a true statement? Who could help me figure this out? And I realized there isn’t anyone that I know of. Even in my small circle of friends with similar interests, I am fairly sure there are none familiar enough with both ancient Western literature and Detective Comics to carry an intelligent conversation about this*. In fact, I am certain that in the entire world there is an extremely small cross section of people that would even be willing to take such a conversation seriously, let alone possess the knowledge to participate and contribute. That makes me special.

I have a specific range and combination of experiences and influences that make my perspective unlike any other person in the world, before or after me. I can speak as a father, a veteran, an aquarium owner, former Warcraft addict and Calvin and Hobbs enthusiast, among thousands of other things. I can link any or all of these together to come up with a story completely my own, a story that no one else could possibly tell. If I don’t do it, that story will be lost forever.

Sounds cheesy, doesn’t it? And not a nice, creamy brie either, this is a full on mass produced stick-to-the-roof-of-your-mouth American cheese, the “inspirational” posts your sort of friend on Facebook assaults you with cheese. Hang on, I’m not finished yet.

Just because I thought it doesn’t mean it is original. Sure, there are stories only one person can tell, but most people just stick to variations of the same old narrative. Speaking of Batman, how many versions of him do we have? There’s the old “original” version by Bob Kane and Bill Finger that borrowed from Zorro, The Scarlet Pimpernel, Scottish history and Sherlock Holmes, among other things. Then there’s everything from the campy TV version starring Adam West and Burt Ward to Frank Miller’s menacing Dark Knight, and everything in between. Batman has been reinterpreted at least a dozen times since 1939, just different iterations of the same basic characters, plot and setting. This isn’t a new thing, either. How many times has Cinderella been through the wash? Snow White? At least there used to be original storytellers out there, real masters like William Shakespeare, who totally didn’t rip off Ovid**.

Usually original stories are more like Batman’s beginnings, a little of this and a little of that, pieced together to make a “new” story that is really a monstrosity welded together from spare parts in the folklore junkyard. Let’s do Genghis Kahn in a tragicomedy, kind of like Cyrano De Bergerac, but in a futuristic dystopian sci-fi setting like in Bladerunner, with a wisecracking android sidekick fashioned to look like a My Little Pony. You know, to keep it light, for the kids. 

Maybe originality is harder than I thought. Then again, maybe I’m being too picky. Snowflakes have variations of identical structures, but every single one is beautifully unique, right? My stories are beautifully unique?

Well... About that.

Look at a snowflake. It’s gorgeous. There will never be another quite like it, and how do we show our appreciation for these individual awe inspiring beauties? We mash them up together into crude figures that are supposed to look like us, or make cold, wet missiles to lob at one another, and that’s if we are enjoying it. The stuff on the road and sidewalks are deemed a nuisance, so we melt it with salt or shovel it out of the way. Trillions of little flakes, never gazed upon, never appreciated. Just because something is original and even beautiful doesn’t mean that it has value.

The takeaway is clear. Originality is difficult to do, and even if we can come up with something original-ish there is no guarantee people will take notice. Then again, snowflakes are terrible at self promotion. In order to share something the world has never seen, but the world deserves to see, we have to work at making sure the product we put out is worthy, and then we have to work at leading people to the product.

Back to work, then.

*There is perhaps one person I know who could. You know who you are.
**Shakespeare totally did rip off Ovid. Makes you wonder who Ovid was plagiarizing.

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