No one creates in a vacuum. You inherit a world in which a lot of other humans made stuff before you. 

I learned this idea in my literature classes. I was an English major in college, and we were required to take a survey course where we tracked the big names in English-language literature from Beowulf to roughly today. Our professors wanted us to understand what modern-day writers had inherited from those who came before. 

A lot of my classmates found this boring. I found a lot of the actual texts boring, but I loved to track how certain mediums and techniques came to be. I loved discovering how culture had evolved through the ages and the way certain long-ago pieces impacted what we’re still creating today. 

And what I found most fascinating is how few people pay any attention to their creative inheritance—let alone acknowledging it. Instead, creators often focus on being an adjective: “original” or “ground-breaking” or “perfect.”  

I actually think it’s way more useful to just be upfront: My creative lineage is one of the hidden roots nourishing everything I make, and I love to talk about it—and the creative elders I’ve learned from.