Saturday, October 25, 2008

Dear Amanda

Dear Amanda,

  I thought you should know that after all these years, I've decided to start taking clarinet lessons.  

  More importantly, I don't know which Amanda I'm writing to.  I've narrowed it down to three Amandas: Skehan, Danskin, and Wells.  Those are pretty much the only Amandas I've associated with in the past few years -- a comment I'm sure will make all other Amandas I've ever known feel slighted.  Well, too bad.  They had their chance.  Do I always have to be the one who calls to make plans?  If there are any Amandas out there who'd like to be part of my inner circle,  then you should call me.  There.  The ball's in your court.

  Well, whichever Amanda you are, I'm sure you'll all agree that learning the clarinet will be a positive experience for me, and I know you'll support my venture into higher learning.

  Please write back to me with a hint, like, tell me what color hair you have.

Your Friend or Ex-boyfriend,

Zachary

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

About The Author

ZACHARY ANDREW BERNSTEIN was born in Lima, Peru and raised in Santiago, Chile by Jewish-American immigrants.  His springboard into the literary world (which subsequently led him to move to the United States) was writing instruction manuals, most famously How To Use Your New SONY RMR-TP1 Remote Control (D Series) (1997), which garnered fame for being "the 'Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band' of instruction manuals".**  Through this work he was later commissioned to write for several newspapers, among them, the New York Times, Washington Post, Los Angeles Times, Rochester Democrat and Chronicle, Amarillo Globe-News, Anchorage Press and the Anoka County Union.  His prolific career would continue into the world of fiction with his debut novel, The Stunning Debut (1998), followed secondly by the equally successful The Stunning Sophomore Attempt (1999) -- seen by some critics as a sequel to his first novel.  By now drowning in his own fame, success and fortune, he completed the epic collection of short stories, Ten Page Wonders (2000), and the poignant comedy The Indignant Flight Attendant (2000), together earning him seventeen Pulitzer prizes in one year.  Bernstein shocked the literary world with his seamless transition into children's books, including Witches in Stitches, Clara's Carrot, Grandpa's Big Find, Randall Ties His Shoes and Fish Don't Drink Coffee, all written and later compiled together in 2001.  He broadened his horizons even further writing incendiary works for the stage.  Premiering at the Steppenwolf Theatre Company in Chicago was the politically-charged Congressman Brute in 2002, followed by the haunting farce Two Ghosts? which made it's debut at the Roundabout Theatre Company in New York City in 2003.  Two Ghosts? would earn Bernstein countless awards in the achievement of writing, including a Tony award and a Drama Desk award, as well as make history as the first and only play ever to win an Oscar.  Since his success in theater, he has returned mainly to fiction with what critics called his "Gym Coach Trilogy": The Muscle Men (2004), Weight Class (2005) and The Hundred Year Dash (2006), all of which garnered Bernstein's typical praise among critics and fans alike.  He returned once more to theater with the box-office smash hit about xenophobia and heartbreak in South America, Los Otros (2007).  2008 brought in two works of non-fiction: Frequent Flyers, a survey of migratory birds, and his long-awaited book on writing, The Bold and the Italic. 

Bernstein lives with his wife Stella and their twenty-six children in Seattle, Washington and Paris, France.




**Bernstein, Z. A. (5/3/97) "Peruvian Manual Writer Brings Life To Dying Art Form", Anchorage Press

Friday, October 10, 2008

Opening Lines to Earth-Shattering Works of Unwritten Fiction

Ethan left his goat to pursue his dream.

Though the rabbi had been pressed, he came home that evening without any new linens.

"Break out the cigars," said the captain.  "We've got ourselves a storm to confront!"

The flower wilted after prolonged periods of shouting and naysaying.

How do you break the news to a newly-wed couple about what was taken from their home while they were on their honeymoon?

Celia's cancer was no match for her AIDS.

My mother made many magenta mittens, making Millie Morton's mopishly marauding meerkat moan momentously.  Maybe.

Once the life of the party, Alice's exuberance faded after the surgery.

"Be you in a candied house ere mine eyes doth deceive me," Ralph bellowed.

The rocks were high, but the tea was steaming and no one could piece together the events of the past few days.

I was embarrassed to learn that Eleanor's cake was too small to fit ninety-seven candles.

The twins were kicking each other again.

Though it's been hard modeling my life after that of a famous Greek aristocrat, I have found solace in the light of a newly opened bottle of champagne.

In retrospect, perhaps we should have foreseen that Dad's first clarinet lesson would also be his last.