In high school, I read a book called How to Read Literature Like a Professor. I love this book – it’s got so many great gems, one of the only things I’ve ever taken a highlighter to – and something that really stuck out to me was “there is no original story”. For someone who loves Greek mythology and is well-versed in Taylor Swift easter eggs, the idea that everything is connected makes a ton of sense.

In some ways, I think it can be demoralizing as a creative to hear that you’re never going to create something wholly unique or original. To me, though, this doesn’t mean we’re all just copying ancient playwrights. It means we’re all pulling from the same threads, the same inspiration woven into the fabric of the universe, some of them touching us and some not. That’s why even trope-driven genres can pull you in again and again – even if it’s the same foundation or floor plan, the house is still special because of the way the author put it together.

The way I see it, there’s this mystical snake-like creature that slithers through time and space, made up of an infinite number of threads and scales. Sometimes, our souls reach up and touch it, pulling out a scale or two or getting tangled in an errant string, and our muse cradles it like treasure until we’ve teased it out into something else. Maybe we’re all pulling from the same scale sometimes. Maybe we all have the same inspiration. Hell, maybe some of us even have the same muse (been there – 0/10 would not recommend), but that doesn’t mean we’re all doing the same thing.

What it does mean is that ownership can get… a little sticky. Not even talking about legalities or copyright or anything like that, but the intricacies of who can collar an idea or phrase. We’re seeing a surge of this in Instagram poetry in particular – I’ve heard lots of drama recently about work being stolen or ripped off; I’ve even known some poets who left the platform altogether because of it. While I don’t doubt that there are accounts (real and robotic) looking to make quick fame or fortune off of others’ work, I also think we have to take a step back sometimes to assess what actually falls under our intellectual property. There have always been moon poets and anti-moon poets, em-dash poets and backslash poets, rhyming poets and free verse poets, epigraph poets and prompting poets… you get the idea… not in the sense that you own it now, but in the sense that you’re now part of this shared experience.

So yeah, give credit to the ones who inspire you and call out the thieves, but pay attention to whether the line between your work and theirs is a straight red thread or more of an embroidery stitch. Are they copying your works, or your pattern? Are they taking your template, or your style? Is your idea being stolen, or are you lighting someone else’s fire? They’re not easy questions, by any means, but they’re worth asking yourself. Artists are pitted against each other all the time – who can do it better? who can make more money? who’s in it for the right reasons? who did it first? It’s only worth calling out someone for being illegitimate, though, if the betrayal is concrete and undeniable. Insecurity breeds defensiveness, and both have the potential to wreck creativity.

This doesn’t mean you should write, publish, or post without precautions. Utilize temporary stories. Keep records and timestamps of your work, just in case providence comes up. Share drafts or partials instead of publication-ready pieces, especially if you’re submitting to journals that want brand-new or previously unseen work. Tag the authors who directly and/or predominantly inspire a piece, whether through a prompt or line or idea. Would you have written about, thought of, or been motivated to create this without having seen someone else’s piece first? If not, they deserve a credit. You don’t have to cite every single thing that ever meant something to you, just the people who overtly bred a particular piece.

Note: This doesn’t apply to specific muses, experiences, or personal situations that involved other people. Someone broke your heart? Drag them… but without tagging or specifying – it’s your emotions on display, but their privacy at risk.

Also, don’t forget that you’re always evolving. The more art you consume, the more you’ll create, and your work will grow as a result. Lean into that. Lean into the elements of your work that make it your unique build, tilt, lens, etc. Even if it feels cringey or embarrassing or hyper-specific or overplayed… the artists we love, we love (in part) because they’re recognizable. You don’t need to take from others.

-Love, Claire 💜