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About the Authors
Allan Johnson
After youthful forays into theatre and music, I ended up studying English and art history at college. Even though I am really just a frustrated architect and wish that I was designing posh hotels in Reykjavík or Dubai, I decided to get an MA in twentieth-century literature and am now working on a Ph.D. in English at the University of Leeds, the institution that T. S. Eliot described as, "the loveliest place in England." (No, that's an absolute lie. Eliot probably said something closer to, "Mon dieu, Marie! Leeds? Fa-fa-fa! Looking at red brick causes me great, unrestrainable sadness!")
But life in England is wonderful. The English are terribly charming and appear prepared to be catapulted back to war-era privation at any moment: bacon is still sold by the ration, juice comes in a super-concentrated bottle that last for years, and my first two flats had fire doors and blackout curtains. Now, that is the kind of efficiency that I admire.
My vocation, I am certain, is academia and I am in rare form in environments like that, which are so dependent on gossip, backstabbing, and drinks parties. My avocations are revolving and have included, this year alone: hairstyling, bread baking, watercolors, gin, and general decadent loucheness. My role models are Alan Hollinghurst, Alan Ball, Alan Bennett, and Alan Cumming. (Does being gay and being named Alan guarantee that you will become a famous author? Or are famous gay authors named Alan merely a subset of the much larger group of non-famous gay authors named Alan? And, what to make of the fact that any famous author named Alan is gay? Maybe I should drop an "l" from my name.)
Sarah Zucker
As a little girl, when people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would say, "A clown." Then, when I was 5, my parents took me to the Pro Football Hall of Fame Parade, and I saw my first actual clown up close. Realizing I didn't want to spend my adult life as a deaf and seemingly dumb mute with a squeaky horn and a bucket for collecting horseshit, I changed my plans.
When I was 8, I used to have these little "independent studies" during class, when the rest of my classmates were working on spelling lessons (I was the third grade spelling champion, and my teacher, God bless the woman, realized it would be a total waste to make me take 3rd grade spelling tests). One day, I got a book from the school library about Matisse. I was amazed to see that he started as a painter, and as he got older, and it got harder for him to see, he moved into his own sort of self-invented art, where he would intricately cut colored paper and arrange it to make his work. From that point on, I was hooked. I decided my goal in life was to be the next great visionary multimedia artist. I'm making my way, I like to think, one arbitrary piece of art at a time.
Nowadays, I am busy living my life as your average (or not-so-average) college Senior. I am currently working on my BA in Theatre at Northwestern University, with a specialization in Creative Writing for the Media (Plays and screenplays, hombre). Life in Chicagoland has been great; I have amazing friends, I both love and hate my school enough to be very content with my education, and I try to make the best of my youth whenever possible. You know, I have to say, the movies may be right about something: Leaving Ohio is usually the best thing a person can do for themselves. So here I am, fresh off the bus with my suitcase, two wide-eyes, and a helluva a lot of youthful idealism, ready for whatever the Universe decides to throw at me.
UPDATE: The Universe has indeed decided to throw something at me, and I have accepted its challenge. Next year I will be starting my M.F.A. at NYU in Dramatic Writing. So see ya, Chi-town, you have treated me well. But the bright lights of New York have taken me in, like bug to zapper. Thus commences my immediate plunge into adulthood and the vast maw of modernity, both waiting like hungry dogs to tear me apart like so much meat. Which of us will emerge triumphant, only time will tell...
