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In Guernica, David Ungar he became a ghostwriter for Gabriel García Márquez:

ItÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½™s a brisk October day in 1975. IÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½™m 24, driving through Central Park with Gabriel García Márquez. As we wend our way through the park, and exit on Central Park West, I am utterly dumbstruck, afraid IÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½™ll say something stupid to the man whose work, more than any otherÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½™s, inspired me to become a writer of fiction. García Márquez today, it hardly bears repeating, is secure in his reputation as one of the great writers of our time. He is the author of 100 Years of Solitude, which has sold 30 million copies in 35 languages; a new genre, magical realism, was spawned by this work. His bestselling Love in the Time of Cholera has been turned into a film, which opens this week in theaters. And he received the Nobel Prize for Literature, of course, in 1982. But in 1975, he is simply my idol.