Thursday, June 25, 2015

Being Me

There's this whole thought behind what makes me, me.

me. me. meme. it's like do.do. dodo.

Or sorta.

So anyhoo, I've been thinking. There's this word- Derivative.

de·riv·a·tive
dəˈrivədiv/
adjective
  1. 1.
    (typically of an artist or work of art) imitative of the work of another person, and usually disapproved of for that reason.
    "an artist who is not in the slightest bit derivative"
noun
  1. 1.
    something that is based on another source.
    "a derivative of the system was chosen for the Marine Corps’ V-22 tilt rotor aircraft"

It is a very powerful word. And for a while there I felt that's who I was- a derivative.

Because I felt I had little to none ORIGINAL thought. When it came to opinions, sometimes it felt as if I were parroting what someone else said. The stories that came to me, always seemed to have a starting point outside of me. I'd read a blurb, and my imagination would pick that thread and take it on a completely different tangent. And sometimes I'd write about that tangent. But at the heart, I felt oddly detached, thinking- the thought is NOT mine. It is a derivative. Didn't matter that the story was new. It read like Fan Fiction (and a mediocre one at that).

But that got me thinking about a couple of things.

What is the difference between being a derivative, or  getting inspired? Anu Malik made his career on that distinction. And yet let me tell you, that was clearly derivative, wrongly tagged as inspiration. There is a difference between a spark, and blatant plagiarism. There is a fine line between fan fiction (that uses the same settings & characters) and writing about a situation from a different perspective (the romance novel industry is built on that premise).

And then, whatever we write about, or think about, or opine about, is largely derived from our experiences. How I feel about a gay man, will largely be determined by my conditioning, & experiences, or lack thereof (which is equally powerful). I mean - that movie Tanu Weds Manu Returns- well, the world loved that movie. The hall was roaring with laughter. I will admit it had it's moments, and yes, Kangana is a phenomenal thespian. However, I sat there, oddly uncomfortable, not wishing those circumstances on anyone I knew. Because somehow, it just didn't seem funny. I can wax eloquent about the lack of story arc, or the juvenile treatment of the subject of women empowerment (what a joke!), but I'll tell you - hand on heart- what they show is no laughing matter. And my experience dictated my lack of resonance with that movie. My opinion was my own. But it was also largely, derivative.

Most of the time, I have felt like a fraud. Felt like I had no real thoughts of my own, opinions of my own, words of my own. It's only now I realize- I do sing my own song, but yeah, if your's is cooler, I'll sing that too.

There's this book - The Storied Life of A J Fikry. Nice concept. Ok sorta book. *my thoughts only... the critics loved this one*. But it says this one thing- We are not Stories. We are not novels. At the end, we are all Collected Works.

I agree. Though it IS largely derivative.