Showing posts with label Woody Allen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Woody Allen. Show all posts

Wednesday, 1 July 2015

One page equals one minute?

One page of a screenplay equals one minute of screen time. Everyone knows that. It's in all the screenwriting books, starting with Syd Field and moving forward. All the gurus repeat that mantra. So why bother thinking about it for yourself?

My introduction to the question came through Terry Rossio. He devoted Column 17 of Wordplay to the question of: "Fudging," meaning, "fudging the page count." 
Any script with a page length over 125 is suspect. Over 130, and the script is, at best, an interim draft with "Lots more work to be done." And it may not even get read. "If it's too long, it goes to the bottom of the pile," a Disney executive told me once. "At one o'clock in the morning, a 105-page script can look a lot more appealing than a 135-page script."
   The bias isn't just due to how long it takes to read the script. The classic rule of thumb says that one page of script will average out to one minute of screen time. This isn't always true -- sometimes a single descriptive line such as 'the horses stampede through town' can take more than a minute, and some dialog scenes will take less. (It's said that screen time eats up dialog, and action eats up screen time.) But over the course of a script it's supposed to average out to that magic page-a-minute. So a 135-page script is automatically considered to be a longish movie, more expensive to produce, and may limit the number of screenings the exhibitors can schedule in the course of a day. Bad things all.
   In addition there are structural concerns. Quite often in a 135-page script, the spin into Act III won't come until after page 100. It can feel a bit odd to head off in a brand new direction at a point where some movies are winding up. The script, then, may be thought to be paced too slowly.
   Oh, and I should mention that none of this actually makes any damn sense whatsoever, of course. There are many films that work just fine at 150 minutes or longer. And the screenplay for the first Terminator movie was, I believe, 170 pages long. But these are the biases we deal with, whether they have merit or not. If your script is under 105 pages, all the notes you get will be about stuff that needs to be added. If your script is over 130 pages, all the notes will be about stuff that needs to be cut. At 115 pages or thereabouts, the notes tend to be confused and cancel out, because no one can figure out whether to add stuff or cut stuff.
   So what do you do when your screenplay is edging into the unreadable 130-page plus territory?
   You cheat, of course.
The most important line in that quote is this: "These are the biases we deal with, whether they have merit or not."  (I take the You-cheat-of-course line for granted.)

You have to understand that every "expert", from a potential Executive Producer to the funding body's receptionist to the catering assistant, knows that one-page-equals-one-minute. Which means you have to look like you believe it, too, or you'll be considered a fool.

Anyone who has ever wrestled with a script on Movie Magic Screenwriter or Final Draft knows the hassle of getting stuff to stay where they want it, without having page breaks cut text in awkward places and making the page look ugly. Man, the hours I've spent rewording dialogue or action lines, just so they were short enough (or long enough) to have the automatic page break fall in a neat place! 

One of the tricks Terry Rossio talks about is "eliminating the widows," a widow being a typesetting term for when one or two words at the end of a line wrap around down to the next line.

I had an experience early on with a script I wrote, where I changed one word. One lousy word. I went from a long word (I forget what, now) to a shorter equivalent, on about page 2. There were no other changes. Everything else was identical, except the script was now lighter by three or four characters. That one change caused a ripple effect which resulted in a script that was two pages shorter. Two pages!  Which must give us a new rule, that four-characters-equal-two-minutes-of-screen-time. No?

Terry Rossio's suggestion #6 for fudging the page count is: If the script's really long -- forget the CUT TOs altogether, leave 'em for the shooting script! 

I experimented with doing just that on a longish script I wrote recently. The script shrank by six pages. Not a single change to action or dialogue or scene headings, but I was suddenly a six-page better writer. I suppose that means, if you include CUT TOs in your screenplay, your movie will be six minutes longer than if you don't, because six-pages-equals-six-minutes-of-screen-time. Right?

About a year ago, I sat through a presentation by a UK screenwriting guru (another one who has never actually written a screenplay), who shocked me by making a statement to the effect that, if you use parentheticals (personal direction, actor instructions, 'wrylies', whatever) in your screenplay, you are an incompetent writer.

I went home and started a study of the use of parentheticals in produced screenplays. That's a subject for another time, but it led to me setting up a document with a table headed: Title, Writer, and No. of Parentheticals. Then I thought, seeing I'm doing this anyway, why not add No. of Pages, No. of Scenes and Minutes. The document currently holds details of well over 350 screenplays, 127 of which are either nominees or winners of Academy Awards in one of the two screenplay categories. Let's consider some of them.

Start with a personal favorite: Lost in Translation. This was written and directed by Sofia Coppola, who won the Best Writing (Original Screenplay) category at the 2004 Academy Awards for it; something her father, Francis Ford Coppola, had done in 1970 with Patton. IMDb says Lost in Translation runs for 104 minutes. The screenplay (you can download a copy here) consists of 137 pages. At first glance. Take a closer look and you will find that 62 of those 137 pages consist of maybe two lines. The rest is blank. One page has nothing on it but a CUT TO. I took the PDF of that script, ran it through an OCR package, copied the output to
Movie Magic Screenwriter, and reformatted it so that it matches the original, minus all the wasted white space. How long? 64 pages.

A 64 page screenplay translated into a 104 minute movie. We can't say that the director took liberties, or didn't understand the writer's intentions, because Sofia Coppola did both jobs. What we can say is that one-page-does-NOT-always-equal-one-minute-of-screen-time. In this case, the screenplay is light by some 40 minutes.

Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson wonder where the extra 40 minutes came from.

This works the other way, too. Consider Hannah and Her Sisters, by Woody Allen, who won the Best Writing (Original Screenplay) category at the 1986 Academy Awards for it. The available version of the screenplay (download a copy here) is a HTML document. If you copy that into Final Draft or Movie Magic Screenwriter, and format it correctly, you'll find the screenplay runs about 205 pages. According to IMDb, the movie runs for 103 minutes. That leaves some 100 minutes of screen time missing. Where did it go? Once again, we can't blame the director, because Woody Allen did both jobs. 

Mia Farrow explains her theory on why the other 100 pages have vanished.
Don't take my word for it, check the facts for yourself. Here are some examples of:

Screenplays that are 30 pages, or more, longer than the movie:
   Almost Famous (2000)
   The American President (2007)
   Blast From The Past (1999)
   Bridget Jones’s Diary (2001)
   My Best Friend’s Wedding (1997)
   Ocean’s Eleven (2001)
   Out of Sight (2006)
   Sexy Beast (2000)
   The Last Boy Scout (1991)
   The Social Network (2010)

Movies that are 30 minutes, or more, longer than the screenplay:
   As Good As It Gets (1997)
   Braveheart  (1995)
   Dances With Wolves (1990)
   Moonstruck (1987)
   Mulholland Dr. (2001)
   Schindler’s List (1993)
   Sling Blade (1978)
   The Deer Hunter (2002)
   The Pianist (1978)
   Total Recall (1990)
 
This is not an exhaustive list, just ten examples from each end of the spectrum. According to the "experts", these screenplays all failed to achieve the magic benchmark, and should have been rejected by the studio, or at least sent back for a rewrite.  

Notice the names of some of the writers involved: Aaron Sorkin, Billy Bob Thornton, Cameron Crowe, Dan O’Bannon, David Lynch, James L. Brooks, John Patrick Shanley, Randall Wallace, Richard Curtis, Ron Bass, Ronald Shusett, Shane Black, and Steven Zaillian. Between them, they've been nominated for Academy Awards for writing sixteen times, and picked up eight wins. Not too shabby.

The one-page-equals-one-minute rule is absolutely brilliant for everybody, except writers. If you suffer from ADD, or you want to sound like an expert, without actually doing any work on the subject, go ahead: rattle off the formula.

If you're a writer, you should forget it completely during the writing process. Focus on getting your story out, the best way you can. But once you're happy with your story-telling, you have to go back and focus on making all the "experts" happy. And that means fudging the page count to make it as close as you can to what they expect. 

These are the biases we deal with, whether they have merit or not.
 
Terry Rossio's Wordplay is a good place to go for ideas on how to do that.
 


First posted:  15 November 2011
 

Friday, 27 September 2013

50 Woody Allen Films - Ranked From Worst to Best

Jordan Hoffman wrote an article last month in Film.Com called Ranked: All 50 Woody Allen Films From Worst to Best.

Allen has directed forty-five feature films, and written fifty-three. I'll leave it to Hoffman to explain how he came up with this list of fifty.

I haven't seen all fifty movies, so there's a limit to what I can say. However, I was disappointed to find Bullets Over Broadway listed as low as #25. Annie Hall at #1 was no surprise, though Stardust Memories at #3 and Love and Death at #6 certainly were. 


Annie Hall (1977)
But everyone will have a different opinion, and that's half the fun. Here's the list, ranked from #1 to #50.
1.  Annie Hall (1977)
2.  Hannah and Her Sisters (1986)
3.  Stardust Memories (1980)
4.  Broadway Danny Rose (1984)
5.  Manhattan (1979)
6.  Love and Death (1975)
7.  Radio Days (1987)
8.  Sleeper (1973)
9.  The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985)
10. Zelig (1983)
11. Deconstructing Harry (1997)
12. Bananas (1971)
13. Shadows and Fog (1991)
14. Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989)
15. Husbands and Wives (1992)
16. Mighty Aphrodite (1995)
17. Everyone Says I Love You (1996)
18. Another Woman (1988)
19. New York Stories (1989)
20. Play It Again, Sam (1972)
21. Manhattan Murder Mystery (1993)
22. Take the Money and Run (1969)
23. Blue Jasmine (2013)
24. Interiors (1978)
25. Bullets Over Broadway (1994)
26. Hollywood Ending (2002)
27. Midnight in Paris (2011)
28. Sweet and Lowdown (1999)
29. Match Point (2005)
30. Vicky Christina Barcelona (2008)
31. Wild Man Blues (1997)
32. Whatever Works (2009)
33. The Front (1976)
34. Don't Drink the Water (1994)
35. Celebrity (1998)
36. Small Time Crooks (2000)
37. Anything Else (2003)
38. A Midsummer's Night Sex Comedy (1982)
39. What's Up, Tiger Lily? (1966)
40. Antz (1988)
41. Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (1972)
42. September (1987)
43. To Rome With Love (2012)
44. Melinda and Melinda (2004)
45. Scoop (2006)
46. The Curse of the Jade Scorpion (2001)
47. Cassandra's Dream (2007)
48. Alice (1990)
49. You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger (2010)
50. What's New Pussycat? (1965)

See the full list here, with explanations as to why each ended up where they did on Jordan Hoffman's list.

Sunday, 18 August 2013

'Blue Jasmine' - Trailer

Here it is, the trailer for Woody Allen's latest, Blue Jasmine. The story involves a situation in which Cate Blanchett is trying to pick up the pieces of her life after her marriage to a wealthy businessman ends. 

Rotten Tomatoes gives the film a rating of 89%.

Lots of critics have penciled in Blanchett for another Oscar. As one critic put it, "She offers more memorable moments in this trailer alone than Allen was able to serve up in all of To Rome With Love."


IMDb    Facebook    Twitter    Website    YouTube
 

Friday, 2 March 2012

Woody Allen borrows from Woody Allen

Woody Allen has picked up his fourth Oscar, this time for Best Original Screenplay for Midnight in Paris, a film I greatly enjoyed. 

If you liked it, try The Moderns, another film dealing with the same material, but done in a different style. It was directed by Alan Rudolph, who also directed Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle, another favourite of mine.

Meanwhile, it wouldn't be Woody Allen if there wasn't some controversy attached. This time it involves people querying whether or not the material was truly "original." The quibble relates to a stand-up routine he used to do back in the 1960s. 

Here's the piece in question. Given Woody wrote this as well, I can't see where the problem lies, but you be the judge.

Tuesday, 15 November 2011

One page equals one minute?

One page of a screenplay equals one minute of screen time. Everyone knows that. It's in all the screenwriting books, starting with Syd Field and moving forward. All the gurus repeat that mantra. So why bother thinking about it for yourself?

My introduction to the question came through Terry Rossio. He devoted Column 17 of Wordplay to the question of: "Fudging," meaning, "fudging the page count." 
Any script with a page length over 125 is suspect. Over 130, and the script is, at best, an interim draft with "Lots more work to be done." And it may not even get read. "If it's too long, it goes to the bottom of the pile," a Disney executive told me once. "At one o'clock in the morning, a 105-page script can look a lot more appealing than a 135-page script."
   The bias isn't just due to how long it takes to read the script. The classic rule of thumb says that one page of script will average out to one minute of screen time. This isn't always true -- sometimes a single descriptive line such as 'the horses stampede through town' can take more than a minute, and some dialog scenes will take less. (It's said that screen time eats up dialog, and action eats up screen time.) But over the course of a script it's supposed to average out to that magic page-a-minute. So a 135-page script is automatically considered to be a longish movie, more expensive to produce, and may limit the number of screenings the exhibitors can schedule in the course of a day. Bad things all.
   In addition there are structural concerns. Quite often in a 135-page script, the spin into Act III won't come until after page 100. It can feel a bit odd to head off in a brand new direction at a point where some movies are winding up. The script, then, may be thought to be paced too slowly.
   Oh, and I should mention that none of this actually makes any damn sense whatsoever, of course. There are many films that work just fine at 150 minutes or longer. And the screenplay for the first Terminator movie was, I believe, 170 pages long. But these are the biases we deal with, whether they have merit or not. If your script is under 105 pages, all the notes you get will be about stuff that needs to be added. If your script is over 130 pages, all the notes will be about stuff that needs to be cut. At 115 pages or thereabouts, the notes tend to be confused and cancel out, because no one can figure out whether to add stuff or cut stuff.
   So what do you do when your screenplay is edging into the unreadable 130-page plus territory?
   You cheat, of course.
The most important line in that quote is this: "These are the biases we deal with, whether they have merit or not."  (I take the You-cheat-of-course line for granted.)

You have to understand that every "expert", from a potential Executive Producer to the funding body's receptionist to the catering assistant, knows that one-page-equals-one-minute. Which means you have to look like you believe it, too, or you'll be considered a fool.

Anyone who has ever wrestled with a script on Movie Magic Screenwriter or Final Draft knows the hassle of getting stuff to stay where they want it, without having page breaks cut text in awkward places and making the page look ugly. Man, the hours I've spent rewording dialogue or action lines, just so they were short enough (or long enough) to have the automatic page break fall in a neat place! 

One of the tricks Terry Rossio talks about is "eliminating the widows," a widow being a typesetting term for when one or two words at the end of a line wrap around down to the next line.

I had an experience early on with a script I wrote, where I changed one word. One lousy word. I went from a long word (I forget what, now) to a shorter equivalent, on about page 2. There were no other changes. Everything else was identical, except the script was now lighter by three or four characters. That one change caused a ripple effect which resulted in a script that was two pages shorter. Two pages!  Which must give us a new rule, that four-characters-equal-two-minutes-of-screen-time. No?

Terry Rossio's suggestion #6 for fudging the page count is: If the script's really long -- forget the CUT TOs altogether, leave 'em for the shooting script! 

I experimented with doing just that on a longish script I wrote recently. The script shrank by six pages. Not a single change to action or dialogue or scene headings, but I was suddenly a six-page better writer. I suppose that means, if you include CUT TOs in your screenplay, your movie will be six minutes longer than if you don't, because six-pages-equals-six-minutes-of-screen-time. Right?

About a year ago, I sat through a presentation by a UK screenwriting guru (another one who has never actually written a screenplay), who shocked me by making a statement to the effect that, if you use parentheticals (personal direction, actor instructions, 'wrylies', whatever) in your screenplay, you are an incompetent writer.

I went home and started a study of the use of parentheticals in produced screenplays. That's a subject for another time, but it led to me setting up a document with a table headed: Title, Writer, and No. of Parentheticals. Then I thought, seeing I'm doing this anyway, why not add No. of Pages, No. of Scenes and Minutes. The document currently holds details of well over 350 screenplays, 127 of which are either nominees or winners of Academy Awards in one of the two screenplay categories. Let's consider some of them.

Start with a personal favorite: Lost in Translation. This was written and directed by Sofia Coppola, who won the Best Writing (Original Screenplay) category at the 2004 Academy Awards for it; something her father, Francis Ford Coppola, had done in 1970 with Patton. IMDb says Lost in Translation runs for 104 minutes. The screenplay (you can download a copy here) consists of 137 pages. At first glance. Take a closer look and you will find that 62 of those 137 pages consist of maybe two lines. The rest is blank. One page has nothing on it but a CUT TO. I took the PDF of that script, ran it through an OCR package, copied the output to
Movie Magic Screenwriter, and reformatted it so that it matches the original, minus all the wasted white space. How long? 64 pages.

A 64 page screenplay translated into a 104 minute movie. We can't say that the director took liberties, or didn't understand the writer's intentions, because Sofia Coppola did both jobs. What we can say is that one-page-does-NOT-always-equal-one-minute-of-screen-time. In this case, the screenplay is light by some 40 minutes.

Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson wonder where the extra 40 minutes came from.

This works the other way, too. Consider Hannah and Her Sisters, by Woody Allen, who won the Best Writing (Original Screenplay) category at the 1986 Academy Awards for it. The available version of the screenplay (download a copy here) is a HTML document. If you copy that into Final Draft or Movie Magic Screenwriter, and format it correctly, you'll find the screenplay runs about 205 pages. According to IMDb, the movie runs for 103 minutes. That leaves some 100 minutes of screen time missing. Where did it go? Once again, we can't blame the director, because Woody Allen did both jobs. 

Mia Farrow explains her theory on why the other 100 pages have vanished.
Don't take my word for it, check the facts for yourself. Here are some examples of:

Screenplays that are 30 pages, or more, longer than the movie:
   Almost Famous (2000)
   The American President (2007)
   Blast From The Past (1999)
   Bridget Jones’s Diary (2001)
   My Best Friend’s Wedding (1997)
   Ocean’s Eleven (2001)
   Out of Sight (2006)
   Sexy Beast (2000)
   The Last Boy Scout (1991)
   The Social Network (2010)

Movies that are 30 minutes, or more, longer than the screenplay:
   As Good As It Gets (1997)
   Braveheart  (1995)
   Dances With Wolves (1990)
   Moonstruck (1987)
   Mulholland Dr. (2001)
   Schindler’s List (1993)
   Sling Blade (1978)
   The Deer Hunter (2002)
   The Pianist (1978)
   Total Recall (1990)
 
This is not an exhaustive list, just ten examples from each end of the spectrum. According to the "experts", these screenplays all failed to achieve the magic benchmark, and should have been rejected by the studio, or at least sent back for a rewrite.  

Notice the names of some of the writers involved: Aaron Sorkin, Billy Bob Thornton, Cameron Crowe, Dan O’Bannon, David Lynch, James L. Brooks, John Patrick Shanley, Randall Wallace, Richard Curtis, Ron Bass, Ronald Shusett, Shane Black, and Steven Zaillian. Between them, they've been nominated for Academy Awards for writing sixteen times, and picked up eight wins. Not too shabby.

The one-page-equals-one-minute rule is absolutely brilliant for everybody, except writers. If you suffer from ADD, or you want to sound like an expert, without actually doing any work on the subject, go ahead: rattle off the formula.

If you're a writer, you should forget it completely during the writing process. Focus on getting your story out, the best way you can. But once you're happy with your story-telling, you have to go back and focus on making all the "experts" happy. And that means fudging the page count to make it as close as you can to what they expect. 

These are the biases we deal with, whether they have merit or not.
 
Terry Rossio's Wordplay is a good place to go for ideas on how to do that.
 

Friday, 4 November 2011

Tom Keith, "Tune In Tomorrow", "Radio Days", and "A Prairie Home Companion"

When I was a kid, we didn't have TV. We had something that might have been better; we had radio. In particular, we had radio serials, such as Superman, Tarzan, The Shadow, Blue Hills, The Muddle-headed Wombat, The Search For The Golden Boomerang, and the Argonauts Club. Radio had a powerful ability to suggest so much; the rest was up to you. If you had any kind of imagination, you could fill in the picture yourself. 

The people who did most to assist in this process were the sound-effects people. They did whatever it took to create sounds that reminded the audience of the mood or sensation the story required. Monkeys, car crashes, automobiles, piranha, you-name-it. (You'd be amazed at how vividly kryptonite could be conjured up in the imagination of a ten year-old boy by certain sounds.)

One of the best depictions in movies of the old-time radio sound-effects guy can be found in Tune in Tomorrow (1990). The film was released in Australia as Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter, the title of the novel by Mario Vargas Llosa on which the film was based. It's one of my favourite examples of a movie adaptation that's better than the original book. Peter Falk, Keanu Reeves, Barbara Hershey. Check it out, but bring your imagination with you.

Tune in Tomorrow
Another movie which captures the spirit of the golden age of radio is Radio Days (1987), by Woody Allen. Set in the period before and during World War II, it includes a serial based on The Shadow, and features a musical score consisting of songs from the 1930s and 40s. The cast include Julie Kavner, Dianne Wiest, Tito Puente, Larry David, Danny Aiello, William H. Macy, and Mia Farrow and Diane Keaton (the only time those two appeared in the same Woody Allen movie). In this screen shot, Wallace Shawn is playing the part of The Masked Avenger on radio.
 
Wallace Shawn in Radio Days
A Prairie Home Companion (2006), Robert Altman's last film, tells the story of the final broadcast of a radio show. It has an unlikely cast, including Lindsay Lohan, Woody Harrelson, Tommy Lee Jones, Kevin Kline, Garrison Keillor, Lily Tomlin and Meryl Streep. The sound-effects man, both in the movie and in real life, was Tom Keith. He could produce sounds like "gunshot volleys" or a "singing walrus" on command. 
 
Tom Keith in A Prairie Home Companion, channeling a peacock for Meryl Streep.
Last Sunday, Tom Keith passed away at the age of 64.  R.I.P.
 

Monday, 24 October 2011

Larceny vs Inspiration

In his excellent book, Acting in Film, Michael Caine says this about acting:
When becoming a character, you have to steal.  Steal whatever you see. You can even steal from other actors' characterizations; but if you do, only steal from the best. If you see Vivian Leigh do something, or Marlon Brando, or Robert de Niro or Meryl Streep do something that fits your character, steal it. Because what you're seeing them do, they stole.
In the Time magazine article, 10 Questions for Woody Allen, on January 28, 2008, Woody Allen said this:
I've stolen from the best. I've stolen from Bergman. I've stolen from Groucho, from Chaplin, from Keaton, from Martha Graham, from Fellini.       I mean I'm a shameless thief.
Austin Kleon
In the famous post, How to Steal Like an Artist, on his eponymous blog, Austin Kleon says this:
Here's what artists understand. It's a three-word sentence that fills me with hope every time I read it. Nothing is original. It says it right there in the Bible. Ecclesiastes: That which has been is what will be, That which is done is what will be done, And there is nothing new under the sun.
It doesn't matter one bit how often your story has been told before; you must retell it better, with a fresh and different approach. When you tell an old story in a new way, it becomes a new story.
Michael Ferris said this in Script magazine on August 30, 2011:
When Travis Beacham (Clash of the Titans, Pacific Rim) was just an aspiring writer, he ... said to me “there’s no such thing as an original story – to approach writing a new script thinking you’re going to write a story that’s unique and original and No One Else Has Ever Seen is a fool’s errand. Man has been writing for thousands of years – every story that will ever be told has been done.”
I (sent) out his script The Gloaming to my contacts in order to try to help him sell it.  The script was getting immediate and overwhelmingly positive reaction, and people were calling it “creative,” “inventive,” “amazing,” etc. it looked like he was going to get a great manager, agent, and soon – a sale. After a couple months, it had a new title courtesy of Arnold Kopelson (Killing on Carnival Row) and was sold to New Line Cinema.
Now, this script was a steampunk fantasy about a city with fairies, werewolves, etc., and a human detective who is trying to find and catch a serial killer who is terrorizing the Fairy Quarter. It was a startling, exciting, unique storyworld, and instantly captured people’s attention. People were falling over themselves to call it “fresh” and “original,” but here’s the thing – the story is basically The Fugitive. Travis took the story and structure of The Fugitive, and put it in a freaky, cool, interesting, unique world with suitably unique matching dialogue and characters.
He was hailed as original, not because he was reinventing the wheel when it came to story, but because he took a simple story, and gave it interesting, complex, unique layers.
Austin Kleon wrote another post called 25 Quotes to Help You Steal Like an Artist. I stole a few of them for here:
A good poet will usually borrow from authors remote in time, or alien in language, or diverse in interest.  — T.S.Eliot
Every idea is a juxtaposition. That’s it. A juxtaposition of existing concepts.  — Steven Grant
If you steal from one author, it’s plagiarism; if you steal from many, it’s research.  — Wilson Mizner
All writing is in fact cut-ups. A collage of words read heard overheard. What else?  — William S. Burroughs
It’s not where you take things from—it’s where you take them to.  — Jean-Luc Godard
Plagiarism is basic to all culture. — Pete Seeger
Bad artists copy, good artists steal. — Pablo Picasso
Books serve to show a man that those original thoughts of his aren’t very new at all. — Abraham Lincoln
Those who do not want to imitate anything, produce nothing. — Salvador Dali
So what are you waiting for? Go on, steal... like an artist.