CC - The Fate of Zelda Fitzgerald: the Plagiarised Muse

You’ve likely heard of the dazzling, decadent world of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books, which defined the Roaring Twenties and cemented his place in 20th-century literary history. But behind the champagne-soaked parties, the intoxicating prose, and the characters that have captivated readers for over a century, there lies an untold story. The story of a woman whose contributions to her husband's literary career have been carefully obscured. That woman is Zelda Sayre Fitzgerald, the often forgotten muse who may have been far more than just an inspiration to Scott.

Zelda Fitzgerald was born Zelda Sayre in Montgomery, Alabama. Raised in a prominent bourgeois family, she was, however, quite rebellious growing up and was known for her beauty and wit. She enjoyed drinking and smoking, and was famously described as being “only concerned about swimming and boys”. Dissatisfied with the conventions of her time in the Southern Belt, she enjoyed causing scandal, for instance by wearing a nude swimsuit to entertain rumors that she swam naked. Moreover, Zelda was one of the first American “flappers”, becoming an icon of the Roaring Twenties with her daring knee-length skirts and short hair.

She met Scott in 1918 during his military service in Alabama while he was in the midst of writing his first novel, This Side of Paradise. Enamored by her unique persona, he decided to completely transform one of his characters, Rosalind Connage, to be based on Zelda. Flattered, she assisted him by letting him read her letters and diaries, which he then used as material for his own prose — though without acknowledging her contribution.

In fact, most of Scott’s iconic characters were inspired by Zelda, and he developed the habit of writing down her sayings to include in his work. One famous example is Daisy Buchanan’s line in The Great Gatsby: “I hope she’ll be a fool — that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool”, which were actually Zelda’s words at the birth of their first daughter, Scottie.

But let us not get ahead of history: for now, the couple was still living an idyllic romance. Upon publication, This Side of Paradise became a rare and immediate success, propelling Scott and Zelda into fame and wealth. They became the ‘it’ couple of their time, characterised by their excessive lifestyle: extravagant parties among elite social circles, fur coats, expensive trips… Nothing was too luxurious for the Fitzgeralds, who soon found themselves divided by money issues, arguments, and jealousy.

Scott then began working on his second book, The Beautiful and Damned, and upon its release, Zelda was asked to write a review of it for the New York Tribune. As she read the novel, she realized the extent to which he had drawn from her diaries. Annoyed, she famously wrote: “It seems to me that on one page I recognized a portion of an old diary of mine which mysteriously disappeared shortly after my marriage, and also scraps of letters which, though considerably edited, sound to me vaguely familiar. In fact, Mr. Fitzgerald—I believe that is how he spells his name—seems to believe that plagiarism begins at home.” Was this playful banter or a serious grievance? Perhaps both. The Beautiful and Damned marked the heightening of tensions between Zelda and Scott, and this realization spurred her to launch her own literary career by publishing short stories in magazines.

As the couple moved to Paris and Scott became absorbed in the writing of The Great Gatsby, their fights grew more frequent, exacerbated by Scott’s alcoholism and jealousy, as well as Zelda’s deteriorating mental health. In Paris, she fell in love with French pilot Edouard Jozan, and asked for a divorce to begin a new life with him. But Scott, despite his own infidelities, refused and locked her inside their house until she renounced the divorce. Sometime later, she attempted suicide for the first time.

By the 1930s, Zelda’s mental health had degraded and she was diagnosed with schizophrenia — a diagnosis that, by today’s standards, would likely be identified as bipolar disorder. During this era, women were often disregarded as hysterical, and their mental illnesses were frequently misunderstood. It is therefore no surprise that she faced the fate of many women deemed hysterical: she was admitted into a psychiatric hospital and subjected to treatments such as boiling water baths, ice baths, and electroshock therapy. In spite of all of this, she remained determined to write, and in 1932, she attempted to publish a semi-autobiographical novel, Save Me the Waltz. However, after she sent the manuscript to his editor, Scott heard of it and became furious. His anger stemmed from the fact that he had intended to use some of the same material for his own book, Tender Is the Night. He demanded that Zelda edit out the sections he planned to use. The revised version of Save Me the Waltz was published but met with little success. Scott himself dismissed her work, calling her a "third-rate writer." Discouraged, Zelda largely abandoned her literary ambitions, which only further deepened her struggles. In 1948, years after Scott’s death, Zelda perished in a tragic fire while locked inside a room, awaiting her electroshock therapy treatment.

Zelda’s life and tragic fate serve as a haunting reminder of the erasure of women’s voices in literature. Far from being merely Scott’s muse, a role she was relegated to for most of her life, she was a brilliant woman whose talent was overshadowed and ultimately stifled. While the use of the word ‘plagiarism’ is under debate in relation to their work, her influence in her husband’s books was in no way minor, and she significantly contributed to his literary success — though at the cost of her own voice and agency.