Clever copying
If the formula works, might as well keep using it. (SDASM Archives)
In studying early Dylan songs, it's interesting how many of them were adapted (or stolen) from hymns and so on.
He would take melodies and write new lyrics to them, or copy the structure of existing lyrics and create a new melody. He also mimicked Woody Guthrie's singing style.
This tactic obviously worked out pretty well for the guy. Taking the long view, all that copying was a shortcut to developing his own creative voice.
Meanwhile, the songs got written and the records got made. Dylan made a name for himself as a performer in the Greenwich Village scene long before he had written any of his classic songs (some of which still had borrowed elements).
Dylan wasn't violating any copyrights. He was working toward success in just about the most efficient way possible.
So when the best of the best uses clever copying to advance his singular vision, maybe it's something the rest of us can try.
Instead of learning, from Dylan, the lesson of being a groundbreaking, unique, generational talent, we can learn the lesson of imitating, as precisely as possible, the structure and vibe of the things we like so that we can build on it (or at the very least, go from stalled and stuck to creating).
For example, if I were going to design a sweater, I might to deconstruct other people's sweater designs to figure out how they work. I might then change only one element of the original sweater design in order to experiment with the form.
By the time I've done that with a number of different sweaters, I might have the knowledge and skill to design one of my own. That design wouldn't be a pattern that I could sell. But it would get me one step closer to designing a pattern that I could sell.
If I don't do this copying and instead try to come up with something wholly original, I will probably never finish my sweater design. And even if I do, I might not be able to present a written pattern that would be useful to anyone else. It won't take the form that someone else would recognize or expect because I will have missed all of the conventions that we use to help each other understand what something is and what it connects to.
My middle school students learn to draw by copying the work of artists they admire (these days, you see lots of manga in teenagers' sketchbooks). They draw the same characters over and over again in familiar poses, and then they can gradually branch out to create their own poses, and eventually, their own characters. But the characters will still be recognizably manga characters, faithful to the genre. They're not trying to be original.
I was a frustrated wannabe songwriter until I figured this out for myself. I was trying to come up with all of these complex, never-before-seen chord progressions and failing to get anywhere. Then I realized that a lot of the songs I liked were actually quite simple. I decided to write a song in which the verse switched back and forth between A and D just like the Beatles' "I've Got a Feeling." The chorus (because yes, my song followed conventional song forms) was also deliberately unremarkable, with just four basic chords that repeated. It worked, and soon I had completed my first song.
That song was not good. But it was a start. I've written better ones since then, and I still steal stuff from the songwriters that have gone before, just like Dylan did. I guess that means I'm copying his copying.
Whenever we try to create anything unfamiliar or difficult, we can start with a template. We can follow someone else's moves exactly, and then add our own flair once we gain competence. It's not glamorous, but it gets the job done. And usually, that's all we need to put ourselves in a position where we can begin to do the work that only we can do.
