My problem is a lot of what I think of starts off okay but sooner rather than later begins to smell of something fishily familiar. An example:
Recently, a title I love arrived in my head: I Feel Your Pain. This announced itself as a horror story. Soon, I had a vision of a coldly professional ER room doctor, a good guy but not a warm guy. And he could use some warming up. So, into the ER comes a girl bearing her father in monstrous agony. In fact, he is dying. The doc wheels the old man away. The daughter overhears the doc saying some of the callous brutal things docs say about patients, to keep their feelings in check and at bay. He does what he can for the father, but it's no use. Afterwards, the doc gives the daughter the bad news, she sobs and wails, and into this, the doc says, "Very, very sad. I feel your pain." The girl lashes back with some of the stuff she overheard, then finishes up w/ something like this: "You feel my pain? You don't feel my pain. But you will soon."
And from there the daughter begins to stalk the doctor. The doctor has nightmares that the girl has a forked tongue. The doc goes to the funeral and ends up asking the girl out. Also: the doc is up for a promotion, it's between him and the good, feeling doctor who is not as technically capable. Etc. Etc.
But here's the thing. In the back of my mind the whole time I'm hearing echoes of Drag Me to Hell, the recent Sam Raimi movie. Haven't seen the thing but I read the script and it's stuck in my brain; and since it worked so well, my brain won't let go of it. I mean, in Drag, the gypsy lays a curse on the bank teller. And in my thing, it's essentially the same thing. In fact, I can feel myself wanting the daughter to lay a curse on the doc but, obviously, that would be too blatant a copy even for my brain to accept; so I've avoided that; but because I have, everything proceeds a little watered down from there; and quickly devolves to a funeral scene involving mutant Viking throwbacks sending their dead leader off into a lake in a flaming Viking ship. Bla bla bla.
So here's the deal: how do you avoid such a stir of echoes?
And look, there I go again!
Recently, a title I love arrived in my head: I Feel Your Pain. This announced itself as a horror story. Soon, I had a vision of a coldly professional ER room doctor, a good guy but not a warm guy. And he could use some warming up. So, into the ER comes a girl bearing her father in monstrous agony. In fact, he is dying. The doc wheels the old man away. The daughter overhears the doc saying some of the callous brutal things docs say about patients, to keep their feelings in check and at bay. He does what he can for the father, but it's no use. Afterwards, the doc gives the daughter the bad news, she sobs and wails, and into this, the doc says, "Very, very sad. I feel your pain." The girl lashes back with some of the stuff she overheard, then finishes up w/ something like this: "You feel my pain? You don't feel my pain. But you will soon."
And from there the daughter begins to stalk the doctor. The doctor has nightmares that the girl has a forked tongue. The doc goes to the funeral and ends up asking the girl out. Also: the doc is up for a promotion, it's between him and the good, feeling doctor who is not as technically capable. Etc. Etc.
But here's the thing. In the back of my mind the whole time I'm hearing echoes of Drag Me to Hell, the recent Sam Raimi movie. Haven't seen the thing but I read the script and it's stuck in my brain; and since it worked so well, my brain won't let go of it. I mean, in Drag, the gypsy lays a curse on the bank teller. And in my thing, it's essentially the same thing. In fact, I can feel myself wanting the daughter to lay a curse on the doc but, obviously, that would be too blatant a copy even for my brain to accept; so I've avoided that; but because I have, everything proceeds a little watered down from there; and quickly devolves to a funeral scene involving mutant Viking throwbacks sending their dead leader off into a lake in a flaming Viking ship. Bla bla bla.
So here's the deal: how do you avoid such a stir of echoes?
And look, there I go again!