I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be original. A story may feel original, but when dissected, it usually resembles another. Is that good? Bad? Does true originality still exist?
When I started writing Louisa’s story, it was her story. I didn’t base it on anyone else’s. Her adventures were her own. Her interests, her likes, her dislikes, her loves didn’t belong to anyone else but herself. But as in real life, some of us share traits and ideas. Since birth, I’ve reviled cucumbers and so did my sister, and yet we were two completely different people – still are.
The thing is, I’ve read so many books in the same genre I write, because I adore that genre and because I need to know what’s out there. I’ve absorbed the elements that I particularly admired and those I particularly loathed before forging my own path through the jungle of books. The main difference between THE BLOOD RINGER and other Young Adult fantasies is that it’s written by me. Edith Wharton once said, “True originality consists not in a new manner but in a new vision.”
To best illustrate my point, I made the above collage: it’s a dandelion seen through four different lenses. Just a dandelion and yet each dandelion is different because of the moment it was captured, because of the eyes that looked at it, and because of the setting it was placed in.
Louisa’s my dandelion.