The Essence of Originality

The topic of originality is more pertinent than ever. Recently, there were headlines about author Jane Friedman discovering AI-generated books published under her name, sparking a wider conversation about creativity and authorship. This dilemma raises philosophical questions: what does it mean for something to be original when AI can produce works closely resembling our own?

The Cambridge Dictionary defines originality as:

“the quality of being special and interesting and not the same as anything or anyone else.”

Every creation you produce is inherently different, even if you were to copy a text verbatim. The act of writing it down on a new page, with your unique handwriting and at a different moment in time, infuses it with originality. There are always distinctions between past works and your current expressions.

Luc Tuymans, a renowned Belgian artist, encapsulates this notion well:

“I work from a reaction upon images that are already represented … because I believe nothing is really original. But then I have to make my take on it — and figuration in that sense becomes rather abstract, because everybody can have different connotations.”

While AI-generated narratives might claim originality, they lack authenticity and emotional depth. Unlike us, AI lacks genuine experiences of love, grief, or joy, merely replicating what it has analyzed from human creations. This absence of personal resonance is what sets our writing apart.

The Personal Touch in Writing

Earlier this year, I penned a personal essay reflecting on my grief after losing my younger brother. Grief is a universally shared experience, extensively documented in literature. As I crafted my piece, I found myself tempted to use clichés like “time heals all wounds,” only to realize the need for a more authentic voice.

Despite the familiar themes, only I can narrate my experiences of grief. When I express my feelings through writing, it is uniquely mine. Even if another person were to recount my journey, their perspective would be filtered through their own experiences.

An AI might attempt to replicate my style and themes, but it can never truly embody my essence. Its outputs stem from the data it has processed, while my creations emerge from lived experiences, shaped by my unique perspective. Our minds function similarly, synthesizing everything we have encountered to produce something original, even when the process itself is unoriginal. Remarkably, writing was independently invented multiple times in history, showcasing that originality exists within the confines of shared human experience.

The Historical Context of Imitation

Creativity has long involved the interplay of originality, imitation, and homage. Throughout history, artists have navigated these concepts, often blurring the lines between inspiration and plagiarism. Authors like Kathy Acker pushed the boundaries with works that incorporated textual collages and innovative techniques, prompting discussions on intellectual ownership and postmodernism.

Other artistic movements, such as collage and pastiche, have similarly utilized existing works to forge new paths. Every experience we absorb contributes to our creative output, whether intentionally or inadvertently, resulting in a unique expression.

Why Are You Writing?

In an age where countless articles and essays flood the internet, it’s vital to recognize that your voice remains singular. While it’s disheartening to see your idea mirrored elsewhere, remember that your interpretation will always be distinct.

As Jean-Luc Godard wisely stated:

“It’s not where you take things from — it’s where you take them to.”

The process of learning, absorbing influences, and then channeling them into your own direction is what defines your creativity. While others may produce exquisite works, the evaluation of their quality is subjective. Each reader brings their own perspectives, making it essential to have diverse voices in literature.

Perhaps your motivation lies in experimentation with writing itself. If so, you are partaking in a rich literary tradition. The knowledge that someone has previously explored a concept should not deter your creative process.

Fear of producing something unoriginal or subpar often stifles creativity. Poet W.S. Merwin offers a comforting reminder:

“I asked how can you ever be sure that what you write is really any good at all and he said you can’t you can’t you can never be sure you die without knowing whether anything you wrote was any good if you have to be sure don’t write.”

When I wrote my essay on grief, I focused less on perfection and more on authenticity. My goal was to create something heartfelt and potentially impactful for others facing similar struggles. Relinquishing my fears about originality allowed me to write freely, and the result was rewarding—someone even reached out to thank me for sharing my experience.

Ultimately, originality is achievable, whether through the radical reimagining of previous works or simply by expressing your unique viewpoint. Step away from the anxiety over originality and embrace your creativity—you might just discover the fulfillment you seek.