One thing that really struck me was the setting. It happens that Crabby and I have a romantic Field Museum memory too. It wasn't as hugely significant as yours -- not our first date or anything like that -- but it was a highlight of a memorable trip we took to Chicago a few years ago. I remember us sitting on those wide front steps, looking out over the park and the lake, smooching and talking. We love Chicago and want to go back some day. By train, preferably.

Kara wonders whether it's better to stay on top of what other artists are doing, or remain ignorant and uninfluenced. That's a good question -- and for me, I have at different times looked at it both ways. I have been struggling to finish a novel for several years now, and for much of that time I deliberately avoided reading other fiction. I didn't want other writers getting into my head and, perhaps, subtly contaminating my vision. I wanted to be original.

Now I've come around to realizing that it doesn't really matter. There are only so many themes, so many original ideas, and thinking that I might actually invent something completely new is a bit arrogant. All art is essentially riffing off what has gone before. What matters is how we as artists take existing themes, filter them through the screen of our life experience, set our brains on puree, and see what interesting combinations come out.

So I've become a believer in broadening my intellectual influences (and I've always been pretty open to new things), letting myself be surprised and offended and entertained by stuff I've never looked at before. The bigger my palette, the more colors I can apply to my own work. What I add to the exercise is my interpretation, how I link disparate influences together into something that at least seems new to the reader. That's the theory for this week, anyway -- next week I'll probably be hiding out in a cave, eating bugs.