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The originality of This

To say that there are no new ideas, no truly original stories, is a lie. Sure, we reuse things. We copy, we the take pieces we like, put them together, make them our own. But in this synthesis, something new is created. Other fragments, too, come in and fill in the gaps, making it real and reshaping it into our own. So the characters are all based on other people, the scenes on things that happened; they are a part of this story. They belong here. The deathdealer in the pub, he is more now than he was before. He is real, new, a character who appears nowhere else. The cat, who came as if from nowhere, she is new. She was nowhere before, but now she is here, fleshed out and real. Fuller and Aeryin came hand in hand, and they, too, are new, for they are the ones who make it all work. They are the ones who make it real, two people out of place and along for the ride. And Coraline? So she is the three of us put together. She is everything we might have been, had things only gone a little different. And what's wrong with that?

It doesn't matter that this story was born of the bones of another. The Lord of the Rings was born of the bones of A Midsummer Night's Dream, and yet it is wholly its own creation, and while this may have arisen from a dream of Mask of the Betrayer, as an echo of Sarathi de, it too is its own. It is everything I ever dreamed growing up. It is my story, nobody else's, and while everything I put into it came from somewhere else, that does not make it not new.

Do not insult me by saying that This is not original.