Sometimes when I write, I have to stop to convince myself that I am not unwittingly committing plagiarism. What if, my little demon would nag, what if every word and phrase I am writing now has been written before? What if those ideas in my head are only memories of has-beens? My fear is that one day, while browsing in a bookstore, I find my stories in a book, verbatim, written years ago by another author. Even worse, what if I find that author's ideas boring, banal, and shallow? I would be happy if I could recompose the words of Faulkner or Cervantes. That would be a great feat. But what if I discover my writing in the back of an old smutty magazine, used as filler in between pictures of fake tits and bad tattoos?
These words I am typing now, are they original? Does this entry appear on other blogs? Myspace? Livejournal? I thought of parsing this into Google, but I am afraid of what I might find.
Perhaps in the future, all writing will be done as a Google search.
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