http://www.facebook.com/events/402022899840827/

Please come out tonight to the Glad Day Book Shop, located at Wellesley and Yonge, at 7pm to watch me do my first reading! I'm super excited, and nervous, and it should be a ridiculous time. The Best of Inapark Productions is now available at the Glad Day Bookshop, for $15. Hope to see you there!

Sincerely,
Sarah B

My letter to Joe Rogan, and Fear Factor

Dear Joe Rogan,

My name is Sarah Bertrand, and I am a 28 year old adventurer, who enjoys feeling safe, reality television, and almonds.

My girlfriend and I were recently watching the hit television show that you host, Fear Factor. I was shocked at the unreasonably dangerous and neverending challenges of one of the obstacles. I was riddled with emotion; fear, factors, anxiety, foreboding, hunger, and then awe. These people were pushed far past their physical and mental limits, and they triumphed! Hurray! The creative department at Fear Factor should be commended. Since I'm sure I won't be allowed to reward them with a lingering hug, I thought maybe I could ease their work load by providing them with their next challenge.

It will begin in a sectioned off field. Poisonous, illegal snakes will be slithering around. The contestant will be forced to kiss one, and then they will receive a key. Then, there will be a woman standing by, who is nine months pregnant. The contestant will have to perform a c section on them. The baby will then hand them another key. After this, they will then be forced to eat a worm. Once the worm is fully disgested (this will be a lengthy challenge), hit them with the Wild Card... their mother! The contestant's mother will enter the set, and they will be forced to tell her a shocking secret. Once the secret is told, their mother will give them a key. They will then have to run through a pit of ragweed (without allergy medication), and keys will just be thrown at them. At the end of the pit will be the baby that was just delivered, in a basket. There will also be a barrel of fire, full of keys. They will punch the baby in the face, and swear at the fire. The contestant will collect all the keys, and take them to a giant locked box. Inside the box will be one trillion dollars. They will have thirty seconds to choose the right key. The trick? All the keys are the same! And the money is fake.

Thank you for your time, and I look forward to hearing from you immediately.

Sincerely,
Sarah B

Pride Reading

I will be doing a reading from my book, The Best of Inapark Productions, for the Glad Day Book Shop on Tuesday, June 26th. It will take place at The Glad Day Book Shop space above their store, and it'll be from 7- 930 pm, along with about ten other writers. Details to follow. Hope to see you there!

Sarah B

My letter to Nike

Dear Nike,

My name is Sarah Bertrand, and I am a 28 year old former athlete who enjoys sentimentality, avocados, and early nineties boy band music.

As a longtime Nike fan, I have to say that yours are the most powerful and inspiring commercials out there. As a former athlete, I can admit that every time I see one of your wonderful commercials, I am stricken with a sense of pride that I definitely do not deserve to have.

I assume that by producing such gold year after year, your staff must be exhausted. I have therefore taken the liberty to write you your next commercial. It involves two characters; a father and son, attempting to relate. I hope you enjoy it. I shall begin.

SON: "Dad!" *runs over to his father, embraces him warmly* "Thank you so much for coming to my game! So, what'd ya think?"

DAD: *hesitantly* "Hi Son. You looked.. good out there."

SON: "Do you think so?! Thanks Dad!"

*silence*

DAD: "Andy... I thought when you asked me to come to your, football game, that meant... you played football. On the team."

SON: *confused* "I am on the team Dad. I practice with them every morning, I'm at every game, and I have my name on the bus schedule list for all the away ones."

DAD: "I understand that Andy. I just didn't expect that you were, well, the mascot, is all. But I'm still really proud of you."

ANDY: "Well thanks Dad, but you know, team representatives play a pivotal role in the success of a school/ sports teams. They're always intimidating, and a symbol of pride. I'm honoured that I was even asked. Well, the duty was more or less given to me in detention one day, but I've grown to really love it."

DAD: *silence* "Yeaaaaa. I can totally see that. It's just that, most mascots are bulldogs, or cheetahs, or bears. You know. And you... what were you son?"

ANDY: "Dad. I was a fainting goat. Duh."

*silence*

ANDY: "It's a real breed Dad. Google it. When they get tense their legs freeze up and they momentarily fall over. It's an affliction they're born with, and they persevere. I think it's admirable. Because they keep. Getting. Up." *closes eyes*

DAD: "Jesus Andy! Is that why you were laying on the field like that! I thought you had heat stroke!"

ANDY: *with frustration and passion, exhales slowly* "I am ALWAYS hydrated Dad. Always!"

*slow motion spinning; perhaps in black and white*

DAD: "At one point you were just swaying sporadically and I think everyone thought you were having a conniption. What was that?!"

ANDY: "We were losing! I was emoting a struggle! I don't think you're proud of me at all!"

*water starts spraying across the sky from camera left*

DAD: "No! Son, I am. I'm sorry. I just... *exhales* Growing up, I was an athlete. Back then boys were taught that they had to be tough, or else we were made fun of ruthlessly. You've always been different Andy, and it's what makes you special. You're a brave kid, for being yourself.

ANDY: "Thanks Dad. That sure means a lot, coming from you. Say, I had no idea you were such a jock in school."

DAD: "Well I was. I was out there, every day, training hard, making sure I had those cheers down pat..."

ANDY: "Dad?"

DAD: "Oh God..."

*silence*

DAD: "Yes... son?"

ANDY: *long pause* "Were you... were you a cheerleader?"

DAD: "... Yes. Yes Andy, I was. AT LAST! Ohhh, how freeing this is! To be able to tell the world! See why I was so taken aback, Son?? I had no idea there were two fancy men in our household! I am so elated that you asked me to come and watch you and your art... Andy?"

ANDY: "I love you Dad. You, and Nike. Just do it." (that is your slogan).

I believe Michael Jordan should play the father, and perhaps Michael Phelps the son. I hope you find this helpful, and I look forward to your response. Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,
Sarah Bertrand


Subject: commercial idea

Discussion Thread
From Nike: Via Email (Kent)06/04/2012 07:40 AM
Hi Sarah,

Its great to hear your passion for Nike. Thank you for spending the time to submit your commercial idea, I enjoyed the dialog between the Dad and Andy.

As it turns out, Nike is unable to accept outside advertising ideas or suggestions for talent. This is primarily due to the problems in adapting those ideas to fit our objective, but also because of the ownership issues which could be raised if our advertising agency happened to be working on a similar idea at the same time. Consequently, it is our policy not to share outside ideas with our advertising agency and not to use those ideas in any way.

Thank you for your interest in Nike and best of luck in your future endeavors!

Sincerely,

Kent
Nike

Read the fine print, Sarah B.

Finally heard back from a publishing company! "Dear Ms Bertrand, We thank you for your submission, but as we are solely a Christian children's literature publishing company, we don't think we are the right venue for you. Best of luck." That's what I get for sending out emails at two am while hopped up on Red Bull.

My letter to McDonald's

Dear McDonald's,

My name is Sarah Bertrand, and I am a 28 year old sweets enthusiast who enjoys robots, hearing about other people's vacations, and dessert.

Today I came into contact with your non toy option in the Happy Meal; the cookie. A co-worker of mine was feeling peckish and didn't feel as though she was capable of finishing a regular combo in your adult menu, so she decided on the children's selection. After I publicly berated her for not choosing the toy option, she then offered me one of your lemony snacks. I forgot how delicious they were! As I carefully plucked treat after treat from the tiny bag of nostalgia, in what must have appeared to be a greed trance, I slowed down for a second. To catch my breath? Maybe. To dream a dream? No, that's very unrealistic. Mostly it was to choke down the mound of crumbs and sugar that had congealed in the walls of my throat. But it was also to find a napkin to dab my eyes (you know when you eat so fast and you take a break and everything hurts and you just have to let it pass? I know you do, McDonald. That happens to probably everyone ever that's ever eaten at your fine dining establishment). Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked. I will skip ahead. Cookies were gone... I wonder if my co-worker wanted any? I guess I'll never know. But when I dumped the remaining snacks over the counter, to actually see what I was ingesting, I was shocked. Nay, appalled and confused. The array of faces that stared back at me with their judging eyes is a vision that will stick with me for years to come. Perhaps forever. And perhaps again until tomorrow. We will never know. Well I guess I'll know. Please don't remind me, because if I forget and someone's like, Hey remember those weirdo cookies? I'll be like, Seriously?! I totally just forgot about that. And now I remember! Guh!

I am getting sidetracked. The moral of this tale, McDonald's, is that the dessert you offer is terrifying. Everyone from Ronald, The Hamburglar, those creepy Muppet thingies with the yarn, that chicken girl and Grimace; they have all been immortalized in catastrophic cookies that I am sure are responsible for tens of nightmares and uneasy thoughts. Ronald McDonald looks like a predator. Always. You must know this. I'm sure he's a nice guy, but the cookie literally looks like you went through a mug shot book at a police station, chose the scariest guy and then said, See this gentleman? Make Ronald's cookie a messed up version of that. The Hamburglar is a thief. No one will contest that. It's essentially in his name. Failing someone misses the pun there, his outfit is that of a felon. He steals. Hey kids! Eat this fun treat! Enjoy it so hard you won't feel me slip your coin purse out of your pocket! I'm lovin' it! (That is your slogan.) The Muppets look like dirty mop street kids with a real chip on their shoulder. A chip, and a taste for blood. The chicken girl never made sense to me. Were those her nuggets? What's her deal? It's like she was a character you thought would be great and then introduced her and were like, Oh man, Chicken Girl? Where the hell's that gonna go? She looks like a jerk, let's scrap this. We've had how many bibs and action figures already made?? Oh God. Okay. Leave her kinda lingering around the background til we can phase her out. Like that rude party guest that doesn't get when they're the last person there, and you're yawning and it's like one am and you have to work in the morning and they're like, Do you have PS3? Grimace is like a tragic Eeyore. Only he's not cute, and if you saw a stuffed Grimace ever it'd only be at a garage sale for a quarter. And it'd have bed bugs. And you'd hate it.

Although I do have many issues with the bag of cookies that rests happily in my gut, I see where you're going with this theme, so I thought I'd help you out. Here are some things I believe could be depicted in your cookies, that summon the same emotions as the visuals from your current designs:
- a child crying
- a preteen finding the gun cabinet unlocked
- santa smoking
- a teddy bear... being abducted
- a dove being shot
- sparkles... really irritating someone's contact lenses
- a mother finding her child's really weird porn
- and last but not least, diabetes.
I hope you have found my suggestions helpful and necessary. I look forward to hearing from you immediately.


Sincerely,
Sarah Bertrand

Now available!

The Best Of Inapark Productions! Either on amazon.com, or by emailing me at sarahbertrand13@yahoo.com