I'm a Shameless Plagiarist

I’d better explain that attention-grabbing headline because plagiarists are universally frowned upon within writing circles, and rightly so. By way of a disclaimer, everything I post begins as an idea in my mind, which I pump down my sleeves to my fingertips and via those onto a screen. I never steal the work of others.

So, to what do I allude in the title of this piece?

I like to give nods of recognition to writers I admire by dropping in references to their works by borrowing names they have used. I believe that in modern parlance the term for this sort of thing is Easter eggs, those being hidden surprises. I dare say most will go unnoticed by readers, but some may pick up on the references, and, what the heck, I enjoy planting them. Here are some examples to explain.

In one short story, I had the protagonist accidentally burn his host’s carpet with a hot iron. Not having the funds for a proper repair, he bought a book from a charity shop large enough to cover the burn and on a subject so dull no one would ever pick it up, so the scorch mark would remain hidden forever. But what would be the title of such a book?

Step up to the plate, PG Wodehouse.

In the story Jeeves Takes Charge, Bertie Wooster is engaged to Florence Craye, who is, Bertie says, “… particularly keen on boosting me up a bit nearer her own plane of intellect.”

Types of Ethical Theory

Florence presents Bertie with a book titled Types of Ethical Theory, which she expects him to read and understand. During the story, Bertie narrates passages from the book which are excruciatingly dull. So, Types of Ethical Theory was the book my protagonist bought to hide the burn on the carpet while simultaneously giving a wave to one of my favourite authors. I believe a genuine book bearing that title does exist.

In another tale, I had a character doctor a betting slip to make it look like he’d had a win on the horses so he could spend ill-gotten gains without arousing suspicion. The names of racehorses are so random they are easy to conjure up. Here are three right off the top of my head:

Thumberella

Velvet Ian

Cods Wallop

Instead though, I opted to pay homage to the author of a favourite book of my youth, A Kestrel for a Knave — or more popularly, Kes — by Barry Hines.

In the story, teenager Billy has instructions to put on a bet for his older brother Jud, who is away working down the local coal mine. Before placing the bet, Billy asks an old hand at the game if he thinks Jud’s choices will win. When that great oracle expresses some doubt, Billy throws away the betting slip and spends the money on himself. The names of the two horses Jud had chosen, both of which won, are Crackpot and Tell Him He’s Dead.

And those are the names of the horses my character used to doctor his ticket.

Corsair’s Bride

Staying with racehorses, I wrote a story about someone again placing a bet, this time for his father, and I chose the name Corsair’s Bride for the horse. Most readers would have skimmed over the name as something I had made up for the piece, but I lifted it from George Orwell’s 1938 novel Coming Up for Air.

In it, the central character, George Bowling, is cajoled into betting on Corsair’s Bride by a colleague who has a book called Astrology Applied to Horse-racing. By sheer fluke, the horse wins, giving George a windfall his wife and kids know nothing about. He uses the money to fund a secret trip to the village where he grew up.

Pub names are another way of paying homage to my literary heroes. Returning to PG Wodehouse, In the story The Metropolitan Touch, Bertie Wooster visits a pub called the Cow and Horses. I have referred to a pub called the Horse and Cow in several linked stories. At the other end of the social scale from Wooster, those wretched drudges within the evocative pages of The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell found some relief, comfort, and not a little hilarity inside the Cricketer’s Arms. That pub’s name has appeared in my writing several times.

Of course, this sort of name-dropping must be done sparingly and in the correct context. As much as I like Treasure Island, it would be a bit off of me to set a story in a hostelry called the Admiral Benbow Inn. But where feasible I shall continue to hide those little Easter eggs within my writing.