The Collective Unconscious of writers

[Seurat]

I'm a daily reader and accept the fact that anything I write is influenced by what I have previously read and written. I have noticed on numerous occasions, however, a peculiar situation I refer to as The Collective Unconscious. It's that moment when, 80% into a story (where all the plot is and dialog is done and you're doing the clean-up runs) that you suddenly come upon freshly published story that contains the same elements as yours, to the point where yours (to you at least) comes across as a complete rip-off. Well, maybe not that extreme, but close. I can't count the number of times that I have seen two or three stories published on the same day that have similar if not nearly exact major plot elements.

It may be like new car syndrome where, prior to buying a new car, you hardly see them on the street but, after purchase, you see them everywhere. You pull in behind the same make and color at the traffic light. There are commercials all over your media. Ad infinitum.

Is it a case of simple awareness, or is it all of are collective thoughts being mixed into a stew of imagination, which is then doles out in a fashion such that everybody gets mixed helpings of the same meal and at one point helpings are heavier on potatoes or onions?

Thoughts?

 

[SinclairGroupLLP]

This has never happened to me, probably because my imagination is more kinky than some other authors, but I know that if I randomly come across a word I don’t know, then look it up, suddenly I will see it being used around me a dozen times when I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone use it before.

Weird how stuff like that happens.

 

[SimonDoom]

I don't think one has to chalk it up to Jungian psychology to understand it. In entertainment, people repeat what works. Rocky was a huge hit in the 1970s, and for years afterward Hollywood churned out movies about plucky underdogs training for and winning the big competition in their sport of choice. Jaws was a big hit, and for years afterward we were subjected to similar films, usually bad, about killer animals.

They're ripoffs, but they're not ethical ripoffs, because nobody owns the IP or moral rights in broad artistic concepts. You are free to write your own versions of such stories, guilt-free.

I wrote a "mom on son's lap in the car backseat" in December, and there literally were several other stories that month with the word "Backseat" in the title, and all of our stories vied for the most-viewed top spot that month. People do what works.

I can't speak for all others, but I can say for myself there's nothing unconscious about it. I know exactly what I'm doing and why, and I suspect that's true for most authors.

 

[gunhilltrain]

I don't think one has to chalk it up to Jungian psychology to understand it. In entertainment, people repeat what works. Rocky was a huge hit in the 1970s, and for years afterward Hollywood churned out movies about plucky underdogs training for and winning the big competition in their sport of choice. Jaws was a big hit, and for years afterward we were subjected to similar films, usually bad, about killer animals.

They're ripoffs, but they're not ethical ripoffs, because nobody owns the IP or moral rights in broad artistic concepts. You are free to write your own versions of such stories, guilt-free.

I wrote a "mom on son's lap in the car backseat" in December, and there literally were several other stories that month with the word "Backseat" in the title, and all of our stories vied for the most-viewed top spot that month. People do what works.

I can't speak for all others, but I can say for myself there's nothing unconscious about it. I know exactly what I'm doing and why, and I suspect that's true for most authors.

Simon, thanks for bringing Jung into the conversation!

Searching for "backseat mom" brings up this near the top:

https://www.webnovel.com/book/shari...om-way-to-long-drive-part-1_72945425870537140

Note how at the top it says "original." Really? Anyway, there isn't anyone with that user name on Lit, as far as I can tell.

Sometimes I deliberately use a trope to see if I can put a new spin on it. In a recent story I had a front-seat stepmom who drives a moving van for a living - in Nevada, of all places. I was inspired by reading about U.S. 50, the "loneliest road in America" when it crosses Nevada. At least it's different from the usual "going to college" theme. It did pretty well with the I/T readers and I had a good time writing it.

https://classic.literotica.com/s/trucker-mom-1

Dad stays at home in Reno.

 

[VerbalAbuse]

I'm a daily reader and accept the fact that anything I write is influenced by what I have previously read and written. I have noticed on numerous occasions, however, a peculiar situation I refer to as The Collective Unconscious. It's that moment when, 80% into a story (where all the plot is and dialog is done and you're doing the clean-up runs) that you suddenly come upon freshly published story that contains the same elements as yours, to the point where yours (to you at least) comes across as a complete rip-off. Well, maybe not that extreme, but close. I can't count the number of times that I have seen two or three stories published on the same day that have similar if not nearly exact major plot elements.

It may be like new car syndrome where, prior to buying a new car, you hardly see them on the street but, after purchase, you see them everywhere. You pull in behind the same make and color at the traffic light. There are commercials all over your media. Ad infinitum.

Is it a case of simple awareness, or is it all of are collective thoughts being mixed into a stew of imagination, which is then doles out in a fashion such that everybody gets mixed helpings of the same meal and at one point helpings are heavier on potatoes or onions?

Thoughts?

People write their fantasies. One day I imagine there's this booby chick coming my way and I fuck her in the ass. And because I have literary delusions, I put it all in a story, which later I post on lit.
Just like 50,000 others before me, because, let's face it, my fucking-in-the-ass-breasty-hoes idea was hardly an original thought.

 

[gunhilltrain]

People write their fantasies. One day I imagine there's this booby chick coming my way and I fuck her in the ass. And because I have literary delusions, I put it all in a story, which later I post on lit.
Just like 50,000 others before me, because, let's face it, my fucking-in-the-ass-breasty-hoes idea was hardly an original thought.

How about the fantasy of two women who become lovers while they figure out the "straight" dating scene - as told by one of the women. As is apparent in the story it's based on, they admit that they may look ordinary, perhaps, but they don't care about that any longer.

https://classic.literotica.com/s/amanda-and-lucille

It''s actually a prequel to story that takes place a year later. In the first part of that one, Amanda gives a witty critique of dating in the 21st Century. Part of it is:

Pop culture was one topic that tripped me up. There was one guy who was going on about how one of his favorite movies was the original 2002 Spider-Man. I'm not that keen on superhero films, and he could tell that. Finally, he said, "Well, tell me a movie that you do like."

I blurted out, "Paths of Glory is pretty good." That was Stanley Kubrick's take on the French army in World War I.

He had never heard of it. The best he could do was, "Anybody in that I would know?"

"You've heard of Kirk Douglas?"

He thought for a moment. "Isn't that Michael Douglas's dad?

 

[JuanSeiszFitzHall]

This item may be apocryphal, or massaged, but the fact that it gets told and retold indicates to me that it shows that this subject is pondered, and in many fields. A songwriter (Harold Arlen, as I recall) heard from a young tunesmith who worried that something he had created--which he played on a piano for Arlen--was too close to another piece composed by someone else. Supposedly, Arlen opened a filing cabinet and brought out some sheet music Arlen had written, with a melodic figure similar to what had just been played. Showing the sheet music, Arlen said, "Don't worry about it. We've all written that song."

 

[alohadave]

It's pretty frequent that I read or watch something that inspires me to make my own version.

I don't know if I'd call it collective unconscious though as much as common themes and tropes. There are only so many ways to build a story and string scenes together that people are familiar with. Like the Hero's Journey is going to be similar no matter who tells it.

 

[ShelbyDawn57]

Absolutely believe in the collective unconscious. Google The Hundredth Monkey phenonium.

I mean I wrote this a full year before Galadriel fought that damned snow troll:

Something had to give. Kraken slipped and almost got trampled, only to get up again with renewed furor and continue his attack. Pickwing was still attracting attention but not quite as aggressively. I looked over at Tyrial and watched as he dropped his bow and drew his sword, we were entering the endgame and we weren’t winning.

Sprinting with all I had, I jumped to where Tyrial was, catching him just before he dropped to the ground to join Kraken,” Throw me,” I handed him my bow and few remaining arrows, “at his head, throw me!”

I had seen it through Pickwing. The one wound that seemed to have drawn blood was Tyrial’s first shot into the troll’s neck. Sure, Kraken’s crushing blows were doing damage and the dozens of arrows Tyrial and I had put in the beast made it look like a pin cushion, but the one attack that had drawn the thick black ooze was Tyrial’s first shot. That was where we needed to attack.

Tyrial crouched and I took a running start, planting my foot in his hands. I sprang, and he launched me toward the troll. Pickwing dove at his face, distracting him just enough and causing him to twist just enough that my approach was to his back. My cloak had protected me from being seen until it was too late, I drew my sword and dagger as I flew, closing my eyes and using Pickwing’s sight, saying a quiet prayer, striking the rock on the troll’s back with my feet. The troll staggered forward as I drove both blades deep into his neck, burying them to the hilt, hanging on for dear life as he fell.

 

[lovecraft68]

Is it a collective unconscious, or the fact just about everything has not just been done before but done to death.

 

[ShelbyDawn57]

Is it a collective unconscious, or the fact just about everything has not just been done before but done to death.

Not so sure that’s true. I have this idea for an I/T story where a family takes a road trip and the mom has to sit in her son’s lap …

 

[lovecraft68]

Not so sure that’s true. I have this idea for an I/T story where a family takes a road trip and the mom has to sit in her son’s lap …

Holy fuck! Just when I thought there were no more new ideas. You better patent that or else there will be a slew of those stories.

 

[lovecraft68]

Absolutely believe in the collective unconscious. Google The Hundredth Monkey phenonium.

I mean I wrote this a full year before Galadriel fought that damned snow troll:

Something had to give. Kraken slipped and almost got trampled, only to get up again with renewed furor and continue his attack. Pickwing was still attracting attention but not quite as aggressively. I looked over at Tyrial and watched as he dropped his bow and drew his sword, we were entering the endgame and we weren’t winning.

Sprinting with all I had, I jumped to where Tyrial was, catching him just before he dropped to the ground to join Kraken,” Throw me,” I handed him my bow and few remaining arrows, “at his head, throw me!”

I had seen it through Pickwing. The one wound that seemed to have drawn blood was Tyrial’s first shot into the troll’s neck. Sure, Kraken’s crushing blows were doing damage and the dozens of arrows Tyrial and I had put in the beast made it look like a pin cushion, but the one attack that had drawn the thick black ooze was Tyrial’s first shot. That was where we needed to attack.

Tyrial crouched and I took a running start, planting my foot in his hands. I sprang, and he launched me toward the troll. Pickwing dove at his face, distracting him just enough and causing him to twist just enough that my approach was to his back. My cloak had protected me from being seen until it was too late, I drew my sword and dagger as I flew, closing my eyes and using Pickwing’s sight, saying a quiet prayer, striking the rock on the troll’s back with my feet. The troll staggered forward as I drove both blades deep into his neck, burying them to the hilt, hanging on for dear life as he fell.

Galadriel deserved so much better than Rings of Power.

 

[SimonDoom]

Not so sure that’s true. I have this idea for an I/T story where a family takes a road trip and the mom has to sit in her son’s lap …

Ssssshhhh. Don't let anybody know.

Oh, wait . . . .

 

[ShelbyDawn57]

Galadriel deserved so much better than Rings of Power.

Didn’t/don’t we all

 

[OffNSFW]

Writing is a folk tradition. Aside from freakishly specific things, none of us can be said to own anything, and even if someone rips us off outright, the stuff they're ripping off has so many antecedents that it's not worth fretting over.