As I read more on King Arthur I come to be more interested in the legends I had taken for granted. Misogynistic, yes, but fascinating all the same.
It seems painfully obvious that many stories since have been based on this amalgamation of narratives, which in themselves were not new but a mixture of folk and mythical tales. Whether consciously or unconsciously, the core story has spread, of One True Leader. Just what is it about the concept of One to lead them, One to rule them, One to make them whole? This role prevails in many texts. Even if it is not this exact arc, there is still the Hero. There is almost always the protagonist and antagonist, the conflict, the epiphany and the gaining of knowledge, whether this be to positive or negative effect.
I've become even more disenchanted with my prospects of being a Writer. It seems the more I learn the more there is to learn. When I write, will I not just be echoing those who have gone before? Already I have noticed that I often consciously and deliberately make references to other texts, in a humourous referential fashion, but wouldn't that get terribly old terribly quickly? So instead I shall write fiction of one sort that is the thinly guised story of another. My story is not my story, but a product of everything I have ever read, seen or heard. These texts in turn imbibed with the creative intent of others.
What hope have I, a voice inside whispers, when so many more gifted have lived and writ before I was even conceived of as an entity?
And then I think "bloody hell, what's for dinner?"