After all of this, what I really want to do is watch through Dead Poets Society again. I find myself deeply moved as I steal whole passages and put them into my novel, pretending they're my own. That sounds a little worse than it is, I think. There are few scenes I use word for word. The ones I do are scenes that would so obviously be missing if I left them out. It wouldn't be Dead Poets Society without the carpe diem speech, and it wouldn't be a parody of it without maintaining the words of the speech.
So I kept them in—and the words from a few other important scenes—and built around them. Added unnecessary zombie-related tension to the scene for fun. Gave the characters thoughts that probably weren't intended in the movie. But I want it all to be recognizable. A reader should be able to tell which part of the movie they'd be in if it weren't for those pesky undead creatures. If said reader could break into my computer and procure a copy of the novel off of my hard drive. Because that might be the only way anyone gets to it.
Besides that, I had a little argument about love tonight. It reminded me how similar I think of relationships and art. Some days, both are easy and that's great. Other days, they get hard and you have to decide if there's something worth holding onto. If there is, you'll work for it. And in either case, art or love, holding on when you could let go so much easier, its romantic.
The point of all that? Treat your art like a lady. Maybe she'll put out. Or something along those lines.
Got a new Most Ridiculous Line Thus Far with a relevant pop culture reference thrown in for free - Classes continued at the same miserable pace, lumbering through the boys’ lives at a speed similar to the monsters they didn’t know were currently infesting the woods, and just as deadly. (Author’s Note: No need to be coy about it now. There are definitely zombies in the woods. Hide yo’ kids and hide yo’ wife.)