“When you put a price on something, you create value. Art that is offered freely without charge is often disregarded. In other words, if you, as the artist, don’t think it is worth anything, why should I? This is why I don’t think giving your work away for free is good for you or for recipient. If you believe in your work, charge for it.” — Michael Hyatt (hat tip to Shawn Blanc)
“Tweets and Facebook updates and SMS messages and blog comments…may be perceived as shallow if we see them as flat, atomic, individualised statements or messages. But they are not because…they are enacted in a connected, ever-expanding sphere, the largest context man has ever created.” — James Bridle
“Identify one writer you really love. Find everything they’ve ever written. Then find out what they read. And read all of that. Climb up your own family tree of writers.” — Austin Kleon
“Writing has less to do with the skill of carving stories out of words, and more to do with the love of the sculpture, including the pieces of stone that crumble to the ground.” — Jeff Bennington
T.S. Eliot said, “Good writers borrow; great writers steal.” But the question is, what’s the difference?
When you borrow in writing, you allow the originator to maintain ownership of the idea by providing an allusion to the original text or giving the source as a direct quotation. You let it be known that this idea you’re using, it’s not yours; you’re just borrowing it.
But when you steal in writing, you take the original idea and make it your own. I’m not talking about plagiarism or copyright theft, both of which are unforgivable; instead, I’m talking about letting the original idea marinate inside your soul until it takes on the unique flavor of you.
Let’s put this in musical terms by looking at two different covers of Bob Dylan’s “All Along the Watchtower.”
The first cover, by Richie Havens, increases the rhythm a little bit, but the song remains essentially the same. Havens borrows the tune from Dylan, rather than stealing it.
Jimi Hendrix, however, steals the song outright.
Comparing Dylan’s version to Hendrix’s for the American Musicological Society, Albin Zak III writes:
There is little in Dylan’s recording of the song—a spare, folklike acoustic rendition—that would seem to have invited either Hendrix’s flamboyant electrified version or its eclectic attitude. Although Hendrix’s “All along the Watchtower” contains all of the song’s basic elements and retains its theme of alienation and apprehension, its affective sense is altogether different. While Dylan’s is a stark glimpse of an overheard fragment reported in the third person, Hendrix’s is wrought in large dramatic gestures in which he, though ostensibly the song’s narrator, appears to have an overtly protagonistic role. In both versions, the song’s characters, a joker and a thief, may be seen as facets of the artist’s persona, two sides of an internal dialogue. But…Dylan’s arrangement imparts an air of detachment, while Hendrix, in deepening the musical problem both sonically and syntactically, situates himself firmly at the center of the song.
In taking on Dylan’s song, Hendrix does not provide a veritable note-for-note remake like Peter, Paul, and Mary’s covers of Dylan’s songs, nor a slightly stylized remake, like Richie Havens. Instead, he takes the song into the core of his being until it becomes his and his alone, a sonic scream that Dylan couldn’t have pulled off in his wildest dreams.
And now when people do covers of “All Along the Watchtower,” they bypass Dylan’s original and aim instead for Hendrix.
Because he stole that song, claimed ownership, made it his. And that’s what makes it great.
You should do the same.
“It’s impossible to recognize a tipping point until it’s behind you, but I suspect that we may be able to look back and see something shift right around now…We are no longer monogamous readers, loyal to a single source; rather, we read voraciously, looking for patterns, teasing out the things that matter to us, making connections, and then (often) writing about them ourselves.” — Mandy Brown
“As literature gets smart enough to operate in a spirit of aesthetic openness and generosity, and borrows more broadly from art, philosophy, video games, microbudgeted films from Sweden and Singapore, minimalist installations, conceptual thises and thats, may its practitioners also be smart enough to look in the seldom opened cabinets out in the garage, where the ugly stepchildren stashed the treasures hoping someone would find them.” — Kyle Minor on finding appropriable lessons from “non-literary” writers