Every now and then someone makes a terrible mistake and assumes that because I have published a few novels and stories and such that I know something about publishing and writing. I don’t. Like Jon Snow, I know nothing, and generally go through life feeling like a confused and slightly dimwitted teenager.
One question that comes up relatively frequently concerns protecting your ideas. A lot of people seem to think that Idea Thieves are hanging around all the coffee shops and bars, soaking up any stray novel idea you slur out and rushing off to write that sucker themselves, cashing in for the millions of dubloons that should rightfully be yours. And I have to burst their bubble by telling them that this only happens after your idea starts generating those millions, and even then only very, very rarely. In general no one steals ideas, and any sleep you lose over it is likely misplaced, because there are literally no new ideas anyway.
Case in point: Designated Survivor.
A few years ago I wrote about an old novel I’d written that I was fond of that turned out to pretty much be the basic premise of Avatar years before that film became reality. This happened to me again recently: A few years ago I wrote a novel about a member of the President’s Cabinet — imagined as the sort of brainy/brawny guy you see in some thriller novels — who’s the “designated survivor” during the State of the Union Address, spending the night in a secure facility while the entire U.S. Government gathers in one place.
Not the most unique idea, and now Kiefer Sutherland is on TV in a series that jumps off that precise premise. The show looks to be jumping in a completely different direction, but the fact remains it’s mere existence more or less makes my novel a dead letter (which is was anyway, so no fat salty tears about this one).
My point? Only that ideas are just that: Ideas. It’s what you do with them that matters, and occasionally someone will get there first, or do a better job, or simply have more connections than you when it comes to getting that idea out there. You certainly can’t get blackout drunk and assume that Kiefer Sutherland Impossible Missioned you to steal a manuscript you wrote six years ago and never managed to interest anyone in. The better chance is that your idea isn’t all that unique to begin with, a billion other folks are sitting at their keyboards right now, working on something similar.
The only question is, which of you finishes first?
I have an essay in an upcoming issue of Writer’s Digest about this — well, technically it’s about stealing morsels from other stories and developing them into your own fully-fledged concepts for novels — but the rest of this is in there. Young writers often think their ideas are somehow so amazing no one has ever had them before, and this is usually not the case.
The secret is, successful writing is a lot more about the mechanics of craft than mind-blowingly unique ideas. Instead of worrying about the Idea Thieves, worry more about your ability to write dialog that doesn’t sound like two AIs trying to pull off a 419 scam.
Thanks. Apparently, de-assimilating from the collective is no new perspective (the hot blond was there first and I doubt anyone can top that.) But, I must write, the blood-magic angle is pretty fucking cool. Pretty gritty, pretty real for that kind of stuff. Easily translated into realistic mythological imaginings. And now I must go cut my wrists because I am not the first person to exist. Thanks again!
QOTD: “write dialog that doesn’t sound like two AIs trying to pull off a 419 scam.”