How to Steal

The fact that all writers steal is common knowledge. Naturally this doesn’t mean we’re all breaking into each other’s literary vaults[1] and literally stealing pages of pure prose gold, or that we’re plagiarizing the shit out of each other[2]. It means we’re all constantly evolving and developing our style and the tools we have at our disposal for telling stories by reading other people’s work and getting blown away-cum-jealous of what they pull off, and then trying to steal those techniques and ideas.

Far from a shameful display of artistic emptiness, stealing from other (usually better) writers is a time-honored tradition. But it’s easy to flippantly say that good writers borrow and great writers steal without actually explaining how one goes about stealing something like another writer’s technique. Here’s how I often do it when something I’ve just read impresses me, entertains me, or simply gets me excited.

STEP ONE: EXERCISE

The first step for me is usually a simple exercise involving copying the technique in question, usually by writing a slavish and unoriginal short piece that mimics what I’m stealing really, really closely. This is usually a whole short story in which I play with the narrative trick, Voice, or other aspect of the inspiration material I’m trying to nail down.

These stories are usually not great, or even good. The focus on the technique means other aspects of the story (yanno, plot, character, setting) get short shrift. What you want to accomplish here is mastery of the specific technique.

STEP TWO: ADAPTATION

Once I feel kind of comfortable with the specific technique I’m trying to steal, the time has come to try and bend it a little so so it fits into my own personal approach. If you don’t do this, after all, you have a very odd piece of writing that doesn’t really fit in with the rest of your work. Also, if you can’t bend it to your own specific goals, are you really in control? It’s kind of like owning a standard shift car when you don’t know how to drive a stick shift.

You can pursue this in a few different ways. One, you can revise the story or piece you just created, working to make it your own now that you’ve replicated the technique you’re stealing. Two, you can start something new or begin a fresh revision and insert the technique. Sometimes I like to start a new scene in a WIP that explores this new idea, even if it doesn’t really match the previous work I’ve done; I can always revise it later.

STEP THREE: BOREDOM

Eventually, the goal is for the thing you’re stealing to become just another boring part of your toolbox and repertoire. This usually requires using it constantly in your new work, even in places where it is glaringly obvious that it doesn’t belong. A sudden stream-of-consciousness sequence in the midst of a gritty detective noir? Oh, I’ve done that.

Once the tool becomes boring, you own it. It’s yours. When you’re no longer excited about it, it’s because it’s just one more tool among the many you have.

And that’s the saddest part of this writing gig. It’s really about draining all the wonder out of a bunch of magic tricks, until one day you know all the secrets, and have nothing left to say with them.

God, I need a drink.

——————–

[1]Do you not? How does one live?

[2]Although in all fairness I have drunkenly shouted I AM STEALING THAT when having drinks with other writers.

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