The Complete Idiots Guide to Opera Composition I awoke one morning twenty-six months ago in a daze. Well, to be accurate it was afternoon, and I was hung over. It had been weeks since I had written anything, and I had spent the previous night as I did most nights: attempting to find inspiration at the bottom of a bottle. I had company that night though; a rather distinguished gentleman by the name of Samuel Rutledge. He is one of several regular characters I associate with since becoming part of the intellectual elite; a category which I was thrusted into after the success of my first book, Thus Spake Daniel. A work, Im sure, youre familiar with. But I digress; on the night previously mentioned, Samuel and I were having an in-depth conversation about the importance of being well read in the soundbyte ridden, quick-fix, instant coffee society in which we found ourselves living. Well, as in-depth a conversation can be in the middle of the night with a bit too much gin in the blood. The next day as I stood in front of the mirror attempting to rinse away the last remnants of the nights misdeeds, I remembered the succinct, yet profound words of my companion. If [writers] like you and me dont read the good old books, where we gonna get our ideas from, huh? Mr. Rutledge then proceeded to pass out, face first, onto the table. Despite his lack of tolerance for drink, he was right. How was I to hold on to my new found celebrity, and continue to publish work worth its paper if I didnt have a firm grounding in the classics? So, after a light breakfast of tonic water and stale fruit loops sans milk, I adjourned to the computer. Free time was not a problem, so all I had to do was select a work and start reading. Finding myself at a loss while perusing Amazon.com, I went to the search bar and typed in the key words genius, author, and booze. I added the latter because I felt that the author and I ought to share at least one interest before I investe...
