A long time ago now, discussing my book The Lathe of Heaven, I called it 'an homage to Philip K. Dick' (who was then not the culture hero he has become, but a science fiction writer scorned as such by the American literary establishment, and honored mostly within the genre and in France). I said that when an art was healthy, a lot of borrowing usually went on in it, citing the period when musical invention fizzed through Europe from Handel to Haydn to Boccherini to Mozart, with composers freely emulating, borrowing, and improving on one another’s styles and technical inventions, even alluding to one another’s tunes, though not copying any actual composition. I took it as a sign of the health of science fiction that there was the same kind of interchange of techniques and subjects going on it, a lively, open, conscious exchange of artistic and intellectual ideas, everybody learning from everybody else.
I learned a lot from Phil Dick. I own the debt freely and with some pride. I told him about it, too. We were aware that we were influencing each other in some ways, aware of an area of similarity in what we were trying to do, and exchanged ideas about that, and about writing, in our letters.
Probably the biggest thing I learned from Phil was what now seems obvious but didn’t then: that you can incorporate Eastern mysticism into a Western novel without playing guru or getting woowoo. Matter-of-fact taoism, middle-class yin-yang. He had pulled it off superbly several times. I tried my own version of it in The Lathe of Heaven, and it worked for me too.
I’m trying to bring out the difference between copying a text into your own work, and applying techniques learned from a text to your own work.
Then there’s the difference between imitation and emulation. It’s subtler, but really it’s almost as clear as the difference between copying a text and being influenced by it. In Lathe of Heaven I emulated Phil Dick, but what did I imitate from him? Nothing, as far as I know. None of my characters is Phildickian. The taoism of George’s character and of the book is not Phildickian, it’s taoist. I had a yearning to put in a talking taxicab, but I couldn’t — talking taxicabs belonged to Phil. Anyhow, I knew mine would never be as funny as his.
So, then, what’s the difference between being influenced by a body of work and admitting it, and being influenced by a body of work and not admitting it?
This last is the situation, as I see it, between my A Wizard of Earthsea and J.K.Rowling’s Harry Potter. I didn’t originate the idea of a school for wizards — if anybody did it was T. H. White, though he did it in single throwaway line and didn’t develop it. I was the first to do that. Years later, Rowling took the idea and developed it along other lines. She didn't plagiarize. She didn’t copy anything. Her book, in fact, could hardly be more different from mine, in style, spirit, everything. The only thing that rankles me is her apparent reluctance to admit that she ever learned anything from other writers. When ignorant critics praised her wonderful originality in inventing the idea of a wizards’ school, and some of them even seemed to believe that she had invented fantasy, she let them do so. This, I think, was ungenerous, and in the long run unwise.