Derivative Work, Plagiarism, and Resonance Explained

Derivative work, plagiarism, and resonance are distinctly different things, and this article aims to define them and expound on resonance briefly.

What is a derivative work?

And is derivative work legal?

What would happen if a writer (we’ll call him Bob) took “The Lord of The Rings” by J.R.R. Tolkien and copied it word for word but gave each character beautifully detailed mustaches? Everyone hears about the “Mustachioed Lord of The Rings,” and they have to get a copy. Could Bob legally do this? Interestingly enough, yes, this would be perfectly legal. Still, Bob would need permission from the Tolkien estate and must acknowledge Tolkien as the original author, and both parties would own the copyright to this version of “Lord of The Rings.” Derivative works spring from one or multiple works, and this is not limited to the written word but extends to:

  • Musical arrangements
  • Stage plays
  • Fictionalizing a true story
  • Filming a movie based on a story
  • Purposefully producing a song that sounds much like another song
  • Painting the Mona Lisa playing poker with other famous figures
  • Abridging an extensive series into a single novel
  • Lifting a character from a famous novel and using them in your stories.

These are all derivative works, and they require permission from the copyright holder; as long as permission is given and paperwork is signed, they’re perfectly legit.

A handsome mustached man looking up at the camera. It's Bob, he has a mustache and is the author of a derivative work.
Bob: “I just felt LOTR needed more mustaches!”

What is Plagiarism?

And how is it different from a derivative work?

Plagiarism is the act of stealing another writer’s stories, ideas, or genius and passing their work off as your own. I did this once, but I was seven years old, and I never did it again. My 2nd-grade teacher, Mr. Eldritch, assigned me a written report because I hadn’t turned in any work that week. It was an easy report with few requirements, and I didn’t want to do it.

Stomping noisily, I wandered the library until I was a bit lost and surrounded by books no one cared about (I was in the adult section). Why would anyone deliberately come here? Boring! On a whim, I picked up one of the books and flipped casually through it. I found it surprisingly perfect. It spoke to me, and I loved it. Why couldn’t all the horrid books be more like this one!? I copied paragraphs word-for-word and added some of my own flairs, completing the report. Gazing at my stolen masterpiece, I felt a bit sick and powerful. I was a red-headed godchild, drunk with the knowledge that I could do anything.

Sadly, Mr. Eldritch recognized excerpts from “To Kill a Mockingbird,” and I learned the considerable powers all elementary school teachers possess. I’ve rarely been as scared as I was at this moment.

What it’s like to meet a god

Don’t mess with educators

Mr. Eldritch was a slender bearded giant with ginger hair. His eyes were green clairvoyant THINGS that spoke across the vacuum of classrooms. Even when speaking quietly, his voice was powerful, and I was not a god or even his equal; I was his student.

Mr. Eldritch asked me if I knew who Harper Lee was. I looked at the floor and said, “I don’t know.” He asked me, not ungently, why I felt I could use her words when they weren’t mine to take. I stared so hard at the carpet that I saw fire patterns, and normal things like pencils and upended chairs became fascinating distractions. Eventually, I said sadly, “I don’t know.” He asked if I felt I could write as well as she? And that’s when I burst like a dam. Clotted emotion poured painfully past my lungs, tears spurt forth, and meeting the full weight of his eyes, I screamed, “YES! Yes, I can! I CAAAAAAAAAN!”

This startled him, but he recovered quickly. He leaned forward, saying, “She was a legend,” and then things got quiet. I refused to lower my eyes, and we stared defiantly at each other. Mr. Eldritch remained silent for a long, long time. When he finally spoke, I was spent. He asked, “Why Didn’t You? Why didn’t you write a masterpiece, Roy?”

I will never forget him. He was the greatest 2nd-grade teacher who ever lived. I never plagiarized another word, and I recommend you do the same—May the ghost of Mr. Eldritch plague all plagiarists.

 

A capuchin monkey looking deeply in a mirror held close to it's face. This monkey is a plagiarist and possibly author of derivative work.
Who’s a GOOD plagiarist!?
We are! Oh, yes, we are!

What is resonance?

And how does it differ from a derivative work or plagiarism?

When used well, resonance has the effect of nostalgia, deja vu, and reminiscence. Resonance is much harder to define because writers either stumble upon it or it comes from study. Resonance is what leads a reader to say, “Why do I like this book so much? There’s something so familiar about it!” Then maybe a day or so later, the reader will realize the statement is similar to Shakespeare, or a concept had biblical vibration. At the same time, other scenes evoked imagery from their favorite author.

How is this done? How can a writer inspire this in their readers? They study resonant works like Shakespeare, powerful verses, philosophy, and poetry, reading the same books their audience might enjoy. The writer can use this study to capture the emotional essence behind these powerful moments creating scenes of their own without producing a derivative work or plagiarizing. Some HIGHLY talented writers do this instinctively; maybe you’re one of them? I’m not; I have to study.

Resonance: a weighty example

The quote below springs from biblical verse, and it’s painfully obvious the verses used to construct it. Robert Jordan, the author of “The Wheel of Time” series, created resonance in diverse ways. For example, his protagonist, Rand Al’thor, is a being of prophecy, and scattered throughout the series are quotes from these prophecies,

“And his paths shall be many, and who shall know his name, for he shall be born among us many times, in many guises, as he has been and ever will be, time without end. His coming shall be like the sharp edge of the plow, turning our lives into furrows from out of the places where we lie in our silence. The breaker of bonds; the forger of chains. The maker of futures; the unshaper of destiny.”

Robert Jordan, The Dragon Reborn, Page 12

A light bulb resting on soil with a plant nurtured inside of it. No derivative work here.
Capture resonance.

This verse would resonate with almost anyone; most would say, “This feels powerful and familiar.” As a quote, it resonates nicely, but in my opinion, it’s a bit heavy-handed. Resonance is a difficult tool; in an eye blink, it moves from clumsy to elegant (and back) with writers blissfully unaware. If a writer doesn’t approach resonance respectfully, readers may declare,

“Okay, this is a little TOO familiar. Did this writer pull pages out of *Insert Famous Authors Book Here* and regurgitate them!? I’m not reading this.”

If you treat resonance casually, you may cheapen your work, outrage potential readers, and make the wrong name for yourself.

Resonance: a simple example

In many ways, resonance is like triggering someone. Look at the quote below. Does it bring any memories to the surface? Does it resonate? Robert Jordan used resonance masterfully. He’d use everyday things like people snipping at each other. Men and women are often left frustrated by these moments. They are left breathless, confused, in love, and thinking furiously about what they could say in response! Moments like this can be heartbreaking, hilarious, and sensual. Do you see how this reflects life? Do you see how this can hook a reader? Did this evoke an emotional response? Any desire to craft a cunning retort? It’s a powerful little quote, a basic form of resonance.

“You are just stupid enough to do that, aren’t you, Matrim Cauthon? …You may be old enough to be married, Matrim Cauthon, but in truth you shouldn’t be off your mother’s apron strings.”

-Robert Jordan, The Eye of The World, Page 41

Final thoughts

I advise you to study resonance in all its forms, theatre, blockbuster movies, soap operas, and even commercials, but approach resonance as if stalking a deer. Too much, and your audience is insulted; too little, you may not capture them at all. The best way to understand resonance is to be well-read. Read everything that delights you. Then study some of the difficult things too, classics, odd bestsellers, verbose poetry, award-winning essays, myths, philosophy, and mythology. The more studied you are, the more profound your stories will be.

Or throw all this out the window and start absorbing everything that appeals to you. Not as an audience member would absorb content, but as an Artisan. Audience members are moved and entertained while an Artisan is diverted and educated. Take a minute to dissect the moments that resonate with you. Ask yourself, “Why does this feel epic? How could I create such a sensation? Is this resonance echoing from an earlier source? Where does this come from?” Then write stories with fathomless scenes oozing with the inventiveness only your mind could bring. Write it! Writers write what they study, and readers recognize moments that resonate through all works. Write Something Great!

1 thought on “Derivative Work, Plagiarism, and Resonance Explained”

  1. Nice piece, Roy. Your story-telling pulled me right in, adding fun to an otherwise mundane (but important!) topic. It educated me, too. Learned things about derivative work and resonance that I didn’t know.

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