Confessions of a recovering plagiarist

In my previous post, I spoke briefly of my first failure of a blog, and it got me thinking… I owe a lot to Zoe Sugg, or should I say, my first book owes its entire plot to Girl Online. I hate to admit it, but when I tell people I've been writing stories since I was a child, you can guarantee none of it was original. In fact, from age thirteen to sixteen, I wrote 6 books with 300+ pages solely based on the original plot of CW's Arrow, starring Stephen Amell. My main character spent six years on a hidden island, she even became a Robin Hood esque vigilante when she returned home, and hell, why not throw in a talking pet wolf?

Safe to say, little Joely didn't know much about copyright, or plagiarism, but hey, those stories will never see the light of day. If I want a trip down memory lane, I'll flick through some photo albums on my mum's bookshelf. If I want to die a little inside and remind myself how far my writing has come, I'll just open my junk folder.

As for older Joely, I like to think I know a little more about originality. My stories have always had a dusting of fantasy to compliment the blend of will-they-won't-they romance and one great villain that just won't ever die. But, I've found as I grow older, the fantasy expands, until I've found myself spinning lore into almost every chapter like Penelope at her loom. I transform into a Tolkien style Grimm brother; fairies with extreme sex drives, a dragon that breathes ice, dwarves with a political rebellion on their backs, water horses, a myth of a woman giving birth to a sword, the lot!

Perhaps the fantasy is just my way of escaping from everyday life - student loans, tenancy contracts, essay deadlines, friendships I've realised are actually more like a day at Vogue as a size 16 girl, and no, I don't have enough money for a Freddo. Or, perhaps the reminder of so much of my writing solely coming from other writers has eaten me up inside. I mean, no I'm not the first to write about a powerful sword (and surprise! The emotionally agonised hero gets it), but ever heard of a sword birthed by a woman out of spite by her jealous lover who was quartered? Nope. Although, Greek mythology most likely has something similar.

Damn it. I guess no one can be completely original. Are all writers just copying off of other writers? Did C.S. Lewis read the Bible and think, hey, what if God was a lion? Perhaps, but I'm not complaining. Maybe I'll just retype Toni Morrison’s Beloved or Madeleine Miller’s The Song of Achilles to know what it feels like to write a perfect masterpiece.