Today I wrote a poem titled “Supper Party.”   I have heard some criticism that my poem is nothing but a plagiarized version of Lynn’s poem titled “Dinner Party,” which she wrote on her blog, Sprigs.  

That is absolutely ridiculous.  I know plagiarism is all in the news today because Harvard student, Kaavya Viswanathan, “supposedly” copied a large portion of her book, “How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild and Got a Life” from a book by Megan McCafferty. 

So, now it’s witch hunt time.  Frankly, I think everyone is just jealous of Ms. Viswanathan because she was written about in the New York Times, received a two-book deal worth $500,000, and Dreamworks bought the film rights.

And now the green-eyed monster of envy is focused on me!

This is my poem, not Lynn’s. 

Don’t you people understand writers and writing?  While it is true that there are many similarities, so what?  Don’t you realize that there are only six original stories out there?  How many novels begin with “It’s a dark and stormy night…?”  Is that so-called “plagiarism” also?”  How many times during a movie chase scene do the bad guys fall off a cliff into the water?  Or into a fruit stand?  Plagiarism?  Of course not.

I think Ms. Viswanathan clearly explained it all in her touching public comment:

“While the central stories of my book and hers are completely different, I wasn’t aware of how much I may have internalized Ms. McCafferty’s words. I am a huge fan of her work and can honestly say that any phrasing similarities between her works and mine were completely unintentional and unconscious. [note:  many of the paragraphs were stolen verbatim]  My publisher and I plan to revise my novel for future printings to eliminate any inappropriate similarities.  I sincerely apologize to Megan McCafferty and to any who feel they have been misled by these unintentional errors on my part.”

Case closed. 

I am a big fan of Lynn and her poetry.  Perhaps I “internalized” some of her words, but this poem is ALL MINE.  Please enjoy it.

SUPPER PARTY

They don’t know she can hear them.
Drunk in the next room, they
think she’s playing in the FRONT yard.
But she’s slipped in through the sliding
glass doors and listens to their every word.

She loves to eavesdrop on adults.
Makes her feel grown up just listening.
Usually they complain about the President
or taxes. Sometimes her father entertains
the guests with stories about Korea
or, if drunk enough, by singing a ELVIS tune.

See for yourself how completely different Lynn’s poem is from my poem (and to be perfectly honest, much inferior to mine).

As for Kaavya Viswanathan, how much do you want to bet that this notoriety will only help her sell books?

Moral of the story:  Deceit and lying is morally OK, but only if you’re young, hot, and from an Ivy League school.