The P Word
Many decades ago, when I was about 15, I read a horror story in an obscure paperback anthology. I've long since forgotten the title, author and most of the details of the story, but the final sentence – when the form of the monster is revealed – stayed with me. As a piece of fun, I wrote a similar-themed story a few years ago that used the same final line. I didn't use the same wording – I couldn't remember it anyway – but the thing described and the intended effect were basically the same. I read the story to my writing group and, to my amazement, someone recognized the line. Like me, she couldn't remember much about the story itself, but she remembered the final line. I've never submitted this story for publication. It's not only fear of being found out, it's also a matter of principle. The final line, which forms the pay-off, the reveal, the twist in the tale, was written by someone else. Even if the other 99.9% of the story is entirely my own, and even if my version of the final line is only similar, not the same, the principle still holds – because that line is so critical.
During the 1990s, I started writing an experimental novel, long since abandoned, based on the central character in the J D Salinger short story, 'A Perfect Day for Bananafish'. If the book had ever been finished, and published, I would have had to acknowledge the debt. But it wasn't, I'm glad to say, so I never had to face such an issue. But it did start me thinking about the issue of plagiarism, and what it actually is. I'm not talking about the legal definition; I'm talking about plagiarism as a moral issue, as a matter for writers.
Many stories are derivative in one way or another. Characters, plots and themes are often recycled. Some would argue that there is no such thing as originality, and plagiarism is a continuum. I would disagree. There are millions of words in the English language and countless trillions of ways of inventively combining and recombining them. There never has been, nor ever will be, a definitive way of expressing a thought, emotion or action. The recycling of universally loved themes, plots and character-types is inevitable and desirable, and certainly not what is meant by plagiarism. Genre writers, especially, find themselves returning again and again to familiar territory. It is the challenge for them, as it is for all writers, to constantly seek fresh ways of telling their stories, employing different styles and new, compelling voices. Cliché, after all, is just a legal form of plagiarism.
Plagiarism is an undervaluing of oneself as a writer and of writing as an art form. It's equating writing with manufacture, with formulas and systems, and once it comes down to that, it's a short walk to plagiarism. Why not? If another set of words does the job, why not use them?
There are no hard and fast rules on this subject, and every writer must make their own judgements. I tend to avoid reading other people's work while I'm writing a novel, as I know how easy it is to unconsciously adopt another writer's style. For me, the whole joy of writing is finding new and different ways of saying familiar things; to trigger a reaction – be it laughter, sadness, pleasure or fear – and do it through words that are entirely my own. That's where the fun lies.
