I want to talk about Original Ideas. Where do they come from? Who has them? Can they be owned? Are they even real?
These questions have plagued creators for as long as we can remember. We stay up at night, alone with anxiety and self-doubt.
Is my creation original?
It doesn't matter what you've created- a painting, a song, a book, a building, a child- we all have this fear.
Let me illustrate this for you...
A song pops into your head. It has a great melody and you feel that it's
fresh. You feel that it's right there, hovering above you, waiting for you to acknowledge it. You can see the lyrics starting to brim out of it, feel the syllables winding around every note.
Then you get that weird sensation. It starts as a tickling against your mind. A little whisper of doubt.
"Did I make this?" You think.
"Is it mine? If not, then who's is it? Would they be okay letting me have it?" As you think these things, the idea hovering above you starts to fade. The inspiration wanes and it leaves you alone.You wonder if it had a home. You wonder if it's happy, if you were right to let it go.
We all get that. We all hesitate to put our pens to paper, because we're all afraid that it's been done before.
Has it been?
There is always a time in your life where you realize that eventually there won't be any new songs. Sure, they might have tiny variations, but they'll have the same idea behind it. It's a depressing thought. This has been bothering me for years. Is there actually a limit to how many original ideas we can generate?
Then it hit me: we've been incorrectly defining 'original' all this time.
In a technical sense, no. We can't run out of completely unique pieces of music because songs can be of infinite length. For example, picture Beethoven's fifth symphony. Hear the jarring beginning in your mind. You know it- the part that goes "Dun dun dun DUUUN" and makes you want to throw your cat out the window. Ya got it? Okay. Now add a "blip" sound right in the middle. The kind goombas make when you squish 'em. So now it's "Dun dun dun -
blip!-"
So if you were to play this for someone and asked them what it was, they'd say "Uhm, Beethoven. But what the frakk was
that thing in the middle...?"
The point is, they'd recognize it. They'd know what it is, but it
wouldn't be Beethoven's fifth. Technically, it would be something
completely different. All because of that slight variation.
Logic states that, since songs could be infinitely long, there are infinite places in which one can mix and interchange variables. Technically,
we will never run out of original songs.
The problem is, we still aren't defining 'original' correctly.
When most of us think of original songs, we think of copyright. There are published works of art, and if you publish something too close to them, you'll end up with lawsuits against you. The word you need to look at from this sentence is 'close.' What is close? According to our assumptions about
technical originality, close doesn't matter. Any variation makes it a new creation. It's
way more complicated with copyright. There really isn't a fixed rule stating how 'close' your work has to be to someone else's for you to be in trouble- in fact, many people have gotten away with
near-plagiarism for many years. Most of the time, it's all a matter of how much they can sue you for. Now, I'm not saying that copyright is necessarily a bad thing! It has protected many creators from having their ideas stolen.
...Then again, what counts as
stealing? These are
ideas we're talking about here. It's hard to pin labels on something so magical to us. The ancient Greeks had goddesses of art and inspiration (muses). They viewed creation as a mystical thing- something of the gods, but just within our reach. Very little has changed since then. We speak of Writer's Block with shudders and capital letters. We're
afraid. Afraid that this gift given to us by higher beings themselves might be taken away from us.
Ironically, it is this very fear that keeps us from creating.
So we still haven't found the true definition of 'original.' The technical perspective is a bit to dry and the copyright perspective changes with the cash flow. You know what that means? We're gonna have to get... <sunglasses>ABSTRACT.</sunglasses>
Really, how else could we approach an idea? Ideas aren't born in vacuums or bank accounts. They're born in complicated lifeforms as we battle with our own vices and existential angst. They lack substance, yet look around you! Look at your walls. Your clothing. Your light. Hell,
look at your goddamn computer.We live in a world made up of these strange insoluble things, yet we know very little about them!
If you're like me, you worry every day that
you're doing it wrong. Intelligent lifeforms create new things. We build and make and break and deconstruct and rebuild and
make things better. It's in our very nature! But what is the point of a lifeform that regurgitates ideas? A being that has no way to create new things? These are the things that keep me up at night (along with ninjas). What if everything I'm doing is crap? What if it's all been done before? Maybe I'm just kidding myself, pretending to be an artist. One day, someone will walk up to me and let me in on their little secret- they've been lying the whole time. It was all a big practical joke and no one likes your things, not even your mother or your dog, and they were kidding and it all got out of hand! You're not really an artist. You don't have any real talent. You have no originality.
I know you know what I'm talking about. We all go through this. The only way to battle this is to find the truth- wait, no. To find
your truth. Because that's all that really matters in the end, isn't it?
I found my truth today. It came in a flash and sounded like a thunderclap. I saw pictures and ideas floating across my vision as if I were underwater, yet I felt like I was suspended in the air. It came so fast and left such an imprint, I don't think I'll forget it any time soon.
So here it is.
Originality is a construct. It is an
illusion. Everything in the world is original
to us because the way that we see it is unique.
What would Beethoven's fifth symphony be if there was no one to listen to it? To feel and draw conclusions from it? What would it be if it weren't for Beethoven himself, scribbling notes furiously, pounding out the melodies with such ferocity that his useless ears cried out in terror from the pounding in his head?
It would be nothing.
Nothing at all.
It doesn't
matter if your work is similar to things before it. It isn't a race. It isn't a popularity contest. It's a
story. It's a story about
people. It shows how we relate to one another, it shows how we can connect. When you heard Mr. King's speech for the first time, it struck a chord. It didn't matter if you've heard people say the same things before. It didn't matter if it was pieced together from old sayings and bible quotes. It was the fact that it was pieced together
for you, and it touched your heart. In that moment, you felt what it was like to be
understood because you understood him. You got where he was coming from, you felt his pain, his loneliness, his determination, no matter your race. In that moment, you
knew that there was another being on this earth who shared something with you- an idea. A feeling. And you knew that you weren't alone.
It's this connection that keeps us going. Creating. Sharing. It's something we can all feel, whether it's through a painting, a poem, a song, or a letter. We hear the song and we beat it out with our own souls, joining in, adding upon, spreading on.
Because that's what we
do.
So who cares if it isn't 'original'? If it reaches just
one person, if just for a split second, they know that you stand with them in this world of constant turmoil, if it comforts them, then you've
done your job.
Don't be afraid to create. It's what keeps us together.
