For twelve years I have consoled myself with one story. One story that I have written over and over, believed it was my very best work, and that even if nothing ever exceeded it, it would be enough to have written it.
It seems that story is an unconscious plaigarism of The King of the Castle. I found a few similarities throughout as I am re-reading the book. Today, I have found too many and feel nauseous. I feel like Helen Keller, who unintentionally plaigarized a story, and swore never again to write fiction, since she could not trust her mind.
I remembered nothing of what happened in King of the Castle till I picked it up again. I did not realize the similarities, the identical circumstances. If not The King of the Castle, I can draw a source for almost every detail of my story. It is unoriginal. Why didn't I know till now?
I feel like a fool. I know I am not left with nothing, but I feel like so much less of a writer when I think how heavily influenced I am by other works. The only solution? Read works so far above my skill level I would never succeed in emulating them. And read many, many works by many different authors. Try not to stay on the same subject for too long at a time.
But really, my writing is far less influenced by others now. I can think of absolutely no source for A Raven for a Lark except my own extensive visions, and the same goes for its prequel, Halcyon Days.