As a writer, I used to pursue original ideas. I thought I could create something of enchanting value out of thin air. Like a magician.
I would research for hours to “create” a piece of writing.
Abracadabra! And a new world opens before you, I hoped!
But it rarely happens.
Soon did I understand that no idea was original.
What you see around are different iterations of existing ideas.
When I sit down to write a piece, slipping into my comfy pyjamas and sitting by the open window, I expect a gush of creative thoughts in my head.
But it doesn’t work that way.
Yes, the creative ideas might emerge. But they all are just iterations of your thoughts, actions and experiences. Like Plato said, all art is an imitation of life and writing is no exception.
As writers, the perspective we derive from our life and its experiences reflects in our writing.
For example, the sight of rain may evoke pleasure in a person while the same sight can trigger fear in another.
When you give them a chance to write something about rain, the former would write about the whale of a time they had had in rain — from dancing in downpour to watching the rain drops pacing downwards to delight the scorching earth.
On the other hand, the latter may dread rain and pour down all their painful memories of a downpour. In either case, their writing reflects their experience.
Your ideas become unique by the way you present them. And not by their originality. Even when you discover a completely original idea, you cannot express them the best way unless you let it travel through your experiences.