"That Bird Has My Wings"

"I wonder what products we’re using that were stolen from people who died penniless because they couldn’t fight the powers that be."
--J. Singleton

I expressed this sentiment the other day after learning of two men who, after two decades of litigation, finally won their lawsuit against a mega corporation accused of stealing their bottled water idea. I began to imagine how it would feel if one of my literary ideas were stolen; what if someone else received the praise; what if someone else paid off their debt; what if someone else used my wings to fly high in the clouds.

The artwork of this book's cover, and more importantly, the title, simply astounded me. I skimmed through the book and learned that it tells the story of Jarvis Jay Masters, a man on death row struggling to win his freedom. The words he needs the powers that be to understand: I'm an innocent man.

If you’re a Seinfeld episode connoisseur, you probably know the story behind the words "the beach." You see, Kramer met with a Calvin Klein exec to discuss his idea to create a cologne that would make the wearer smell like he or she just returned from the beach. Kramer suggested it be called The Ocean. The exec laughed at the ridiculous idea and sent him on his way. Fast forward a few years and Jerry is dating a Calvin Klein model. Jerry tells her one day that he likes the smell of her perfume. She replies that it’s a new CK perfume called The Beach. Jerry puts two and two together and realizes that his buddy’s idea was stolen. Of course, you know that this only begins the hilarity.

Though funny, in real life, beginning a battle of this magnitude is so daunting that many are able to only send threatening letters or spend all they have rallying a few troops to help them go up against Goliath. Others simply give up.

The mere thought of this happening to my intellectual property is devastating. While technically a work is under copyright protection the moment it is placed in a fixed, tangible form, the essence of it knows no owner and can be "borrowed" against the creator’s will. My mother tells me that ideas belong to the universe, not to an individual. What belongs to an individual is his or her expression of that idea. Let's say you originate an idea, a bike that says "hello." If I take this idea and express it in my own way by designing a bike that speaks three languages and sings Sinatra's greatest hits, the burden of proof lies with you that my great new bike, with all of its fancy trimmings, actually started with your idea of a simple "hello."

I have my work (mostly ramblings) scattered about on this blog, all my own creation. I knew when I put it out there that I was taking a chance, but convinced myself that I’d be okay if got away, because I was saving the good stuff for later. I lied. Every word I write is my precious offspring. I only want to share it under my name, though there are exceptions of course. My character Sweety, who lives in several postings, is someone whose story "The Gift" summoned me to tell. The Gift visits all of us creative expressionists, and serves as the switch our imaginations need to turn on. What results is our special creation, a miracle. When someone comes behind and steals that miracle, either completely or partially, without so much as an acknowledgement to its origin, I would imagine that it feels as though a piece of your spirit has left as well.

With recent and old stories of copyright infringement allegations on my mind, along with the uncertainty of submitting work to contests and start up magazines, and the hazards of posting work on blogs and messageboards, I often feel confused about how to balance being an ambitious and spontaneous writer who wants the world to know my name, and a paranoid word processor with delusions of grandeur of the world waiting in anticipation to nab my non-Library of Congress recognized offerings.

This past weekend when I spotted the words that bird has my wings, I unintentionally fed my weakening fear a very nourishing meal.

What do the words of this book title mean to you?