Tuesday, 15 May 2018

And again

"I don't care how." 

Sarah shuddered at the sound of the voice, low and gravelled uttering it's condemnation. The disembodied sound hung in her ears as she listened to the silence on the tape recorder. Her thumb depressed the plastic button and the machine clicked to a stop. The sound of unctuous silence which had hung between them had been recorded in all of it's humiliating glory.

"Is this what you wanted?" She asked no one in particular. Walter was nestled in a content circle next to her, white fur and gentle purrs. Sarah distractedly rested her hand on the warm body pressed against her feet as she sat on her sofa. The flat-screen television had been a recent addition to her tiny apartment and it was currently displaying a mixture of flashing lights and flaming debris.

"Don't tell you I never get you anything." Donovan had beamed as he had a presented the oversized cardboard box with a flourish. Sarah felt at pains not to advise Donovan he regularly bought her things she did not want nor need. Her apartment was filled with expensive wines and whiskeys and there was subscription to a magazine advertising chrome car parts which was delivered on a monthly basis. She rarely invited him but he was a regular visitor and he had made himself very much at home.

Sarah hadn't the heart to tell him to leave when the intercom buzzed in the early hours of the morning and she could see the small grey blurry face smiling up at the camera with down-turned eyes and slumped shoulders. She would leave in the morning and he would be gone on her return. The cat would take a keen interest in the ashtray Donovan had filled, that Sarah had never bought, and would smell like smoke.

"What did he say?" Sarah recalled Her asking bluntly. She was dressed in a baggy black t-shirt with holes speckled across it. Her hair was a light grey and scraped against her skull in a loose ponytail. Sarah thought She looked more tired than usual. Her cheeks were stretched against her bones and her eyes enshrouded with purple.

It had been a few nights prior and they had been sitting on the white leather sofa whilst Donovan busied himself with wires and plugs, clear plastic bags and Styrofoam littering the rug next to them. The cat had hidden in the box and was not coming out.
"Not much." Sarah had tried to elaborate, "He was very blunt."
"Sounds about right." Donovan had muttered under his breath, he was holding an instruction manual close to his nose as he sat on the floor cross legged in pale shorts and flip-flops.
"You're not here." She had snapped. Donovan said they called her the Wraith. No one believed she existed. Sarah sometimes had brief flashes of concern that they had dreamt her into existence.

"And you don't have the tape?" She asked Sarah, her eyebrows were furrowed and hands clasped on her lap. She was sitting facing Sarah with her legs crossed on the sofa. Sarah was sitting with her feet on the floor watching Donovan distractedly trying not to catch Her gaze.

"It was an accident." Sarah had muttered. The tape was an object of shame, a failure. Sarah had grown to master the art of conversation or at least she believed she had. A client would approach her and she would take charge of the meeting and their deepest desires and thoughts would be revealed in a matter of alcoholic units. It had taken some time to master the art of judging how best to approach each person but Sarah found that all it took was open-ended questions and an earnest smile.

"And you do whatever I ask?" He had asked and Sarah had felt her skin prickle at the matter-of-fact approach. The implications of the question made Sarah feel that he had undressed her with his gaze, her discomfort was on full display. She had lost the upper hand immediately and she felt aware that they both knew this. His drink remained untouched and she declined the offer to buy one for herself.

Sarah had told Her when asked that the tape had been wiped. As soon as they had walked through the door and Donovan had finished displaying his overly large cardboard box. He had dumped this in the living area and retired to the kitchenette as Sarah had led Her to the sofa.
"The dog ate my homework." Donovan had snorted unhelpfully as he stood over the sink filling a glass with water and leaning against the counter-top. His hair was swept upwards like the bristles of a broom, the golden tips dusted the ceiling. Sarah shot him admonishing glare and he had shrugged casually in response.

"I believe you're aware of the service we offer, sir." Sarah had felt sickened with herself as she had reverted to a role of subservience.
"It doesn't matter." Sarah had said quickly, "It wasn't a long meeting and he wasn't big on details."
"We have the tapes for a reason." She had said firmly. "You know this."
"Don't you trust me?" Sarah heard the words before she had meant to say them. She looked at Sarah unblinking and calm. Sarah could never read her expression. Sarah wondered if it was possible to hurt Her, with words or otherwise. She was wearing a lace chartreuse scarf around her neck. The colour would clash with the deep pink scar tissue underneath if it was possible to see both.

"I trust you." She had said to Sarah resting her fingers over Sarah's hand which had been resting on her knee. Sarah turned and looked at Her. Her expression was unfathomable.

The news reporter announced that the death toll was currently 8 confirmed and 50 injured. The Watchtowers between the Financial and Commercial had 'lowered the drawbridge' to allow emergency services from the other districts travel to the Quadrangle unimpeded. The military task force responsible for the security of the Quadrangle were on high alert and tracking all movement in each district. Martial law had descended in all but name.

Parliament would be called in the morning for an emergency meeting. How did this happen? People were enraged that the Watchtower system should have increased the security of the city. There were contingency plans for missiles, nuclear warheads, and the like but nothing to prevent a domestic helicopter from crashing into a historical building. The city was bleeding.

"I want them dead."
What if Sarah had described the tape differently to Her. Would that have prevented a helicopter being dropped on the Ballroom? What if She had heard the tape. Would that have changed anything? How was this different from any other 'accident'? Sarah tried to formulate a different outcome. She could have taken control of the man in the bar with the malevolent eyes, she could have been firm with him. Sarah could have denied him what he wanted. What if Sarah had said that the man had not turned up? She would have believed Sarah, She wouldn't have asked questions.

Sarah's phone on the kitchen counter had continued to buzz intermittently through the evening as she stared at the television screen blaring high definition carnage. People wanted to know how this had happened. Sarah felt sick with guilt but she couldn't answer their questions.

Sunday, 13 May 2018

The Ballroom

This is the moment you've all be waiting for. The car crash, the spectacle. Blood and viscera, metal and glass, screams of flesh and machinery. All you asked for, She has delivered. She glides through the spectacle like a modern ghost, a wisp of infinity. You get what you paid for, and what you paid for is horror.

This is the ballroom and it is all there ever was. The oldest grandest ballroom in the city. The chandelier which had proudly hung glittering and enormous in the centre is a smattering of a shards on the marble floor. The ceiling has caved in all that remained was plaster and brick. The husk of machinery had pierced through the dome from above and destroyed all that was below. You asked for this. She has no shame, no regrets. What did you expect?

Sarah sat in her apartment, white leather sofa, cotton pyjamas, the rolling news cycle repeatedly displaying flashing images of carnage. Walter sits on her lap, a purring throw pillow nestled next to her feet curled up beside her. Dark fingers gathering and releasing tufts of fur in one hand, a glass of deep red burgundy resting in her other. The goblet hovering near her cheek. Her down-turned eyes reflecting the tragedy, her forehead smooth, her mouth a crescent grimace. Black headphones resting in her ears, the tape-recorder attached resting on her lap embedded in folds of pale cotton.

"What can I do to help?" Her voice was higher than she was accustomed to, it sounded disconnected. Sarah recognised the polite emptiness in her tone. She had asked that question so many times and it had lost all meaning. She wasn't trying to help. Sarah didn't want to help anybody. Everyone had disappointed her and dampened her belief in humanity which had been carefully constructed through her childhood. Her journey toward maturity had been a gradual understanding that people were not inherently good. People were in fact selfish and destructive and adulthood was a rite of passage that taught people their selfishness had no consequence. More specifically, that any consequences could be ignored with enough selfishness.

"Kill them all." The low voice had responded.
Sarah had not responded, there had been a long crackling as the tape continued to record and the silence was committed to memory. She recalled the unchanged expression on the man's face and the matter of fact tone. Sarah recalled revulsion growing in the pit of her stomach. It coiled through her insides and made it uncomfortable for her to sit still. She had wanted to move, to leave, to remove herself from the moment that was unfolding. She had sat perfectly still holding his unblinking gaze.

"I don't care how." The voice continued after the interminable silence. "I want them dead." The voice cut through the low buzzing.

The helicopter had crashed into the ballroom at quarter past ten in the evening. There had been an award ceremony taking place, the Institute of Financial Leaders had arranged it to award the 'leading lights' in the industry. The ballroom had been set up with a stage, a large red curtain hung behind it with podium glowing under spotlights. There had been an arrangement of tables with centrepieces which looked like weeping willows.

Sarah had shifted in her seat as the man had stared at her, "I understand." She had walked away at that point. The tape became a cacophony of screeching chair legs and her handbag rattling. She walked away and the noise turned into random conversations melding into a singular hum of voices.

The news reporter with the perfectly styled hair and navy blue jacket dictated the details of the images being shown. Thus far the death toll was unknown.

Sarah could hear a piercing vibrating noise angrily buzzing against the kitchen counter behind her. She removed her hand from her cat's warm fur and fumbled for the tape-recorder, her thumb depressed the rewind button as she started the tape from the beginning once again.

"-any need for introductions." The lower voice had said coolly. He hadn't shook her hand, he had barely acknowledged her as he sat down. Sarah had felt uneasy from the moment he had appeared. The meeting had lasted less than five minutes. He had been in control the entire time and she had been beholden to his request. To his intense stare. To his request.

"And you do whatever I ask?" He had sounded almost curious as Sarah had settled in the seat opposite him at the bar near the docks. He had a pint glass of golden beer in front of him untouched and speckled with condensation. Sarah had not ordered a drink. She hadn't been sure about the nature of the meeting.

"My associate will be responsible for putting your request into action." Sarah sounded coy, almost flirtatious on the tape. She could hear the light playful tone in her voice as she toyed with the idea of charming this blunt and unnerving man. He hadn't reciprocated and Sarah recalled feeling embarrassed as he had rudely ignored her attempts at being personable.

Had Sarah known that Her interpretation of the request had been to crash a helicopter into the middle of the Quadrangle would this have changed the way she handled the situation? Should Sarah have handed the tape across as was the usual order of business? Why did she keep this tape and simply paraphrase the conversation? What if something had been missed?

Sarah stared at a terrified patron of the awards ceremony, tracks of mascara on her cheeks, hair with dust and frayed edges, frantically describing the carnage to the reporter. Sarah's eyes lost focus and rather than a victim or a survivor, Sarah saw her associate talking through the television. Was it actually her? The grey eyes, the sunken cheeks, the slash of deep red across her neck. 

"Kill them all." 

Why would anyone want this? Sarah wondered as the phone on the kitchen counter continued to buzz incessantly against the smooth surface. She had simply been the messenger. The conveyor belt carrying the request to the instigator. The woman that had no name. The woman responsible for the helicopter dropping from the sky but not for the death and the carnage.

"Are you the trigger or the bullet?" Sarah had been asked once.
"Who is holding the gun here?" Sarah had responded.
"They are." The proverbial 'they', the one that gives the order.
"Then it doesn't matter what part of it I say I am." Sarah had said smoothly.

Sarah stared at the television screen, the voice of the client playing on repeat in her ears. They didn't know how people had survived or how many people had died. Sarah closed her eyes to block out the images on the screen.

"I understand." Her mechanical voice smoothly advised. What had she expected?

Friday, 4 May 2018

This is a show tune...

...but the show hasn't been written for it yet.



When I'm lost and have no direction I end up finding this song. It's been there through so many difficult times and it's (in my opinion) one of the most powerful songs in history. I'd struggle to name another one but my knowledge does not extend so far.

Every version I've managed to find of Mississippi Godamm is different and every time Nina has that same rage and spirit coursing through it. Sometimes she'll make a wry comment as she maintains that pulsing beat.

Why don't you see it, why don't you feel it? I don't know. I don't know.

The historical significance of Nina Simone fiercely singing with all of her strength about the inequality in her country and the Civil Rights Movement in the 1960s is breathtaking and inspirational. The song highlights significant events at that time but then again, couldn't you continue adding to that list?

Her passion and fury are so raw and she is using her (amazing) talent to highlight the injustices of the racist system she lived within. I can never appreciate the indignities faced or the inequality but I can feel it. A song that's more than 50 years old reaching through time and still searing.

I've been struggling this week especially as it's come to an end. Not much can be done on a weekend and I'm just waiting now. I had an interview with a charity today and I tried to emphasise how much I just want to help people. It's going to be a little while before I hear back (2 endless weeks). If I don't get the job offer I'll have to move on to the next and make do.

I've gone through every charity based in the city (there are 485) and currently there are no others I can work for earning a living wage. This is my chance to do something meaningful. Now that I've got time to wait my thoughts keep snapping back to 'what if I'm not good enough'. I wasn't good enough before, it's likely it could happen again. I had another interview but it was a different industry. Good customer service is helping people too I suppose.

Where am I going? What am I doing? I don't know. I don't know.
Just try to do your very best 
Stand up be counted with all the rest

I'm re-framing a Civil Rights song and it's probably not something I should do. But those feelings of frustration and helplessness are universal. The song was written to give a voice to those sensations so that everyone could understand. From my tiny insignificant daily struggles and in my low moments I can feel them too. I really hope with every fibre inside of me that her song reached everyone and made them understand too.

Now Youtube is cycling through old Nina and Ella songs with a couple Billie Holiday. I need to feel someone else's feeling for a short while.

Wednesday, 2 May 2018

Survival

It feels like time has slowed to a painfully arduous rate. Should I treat this time, I suddenly have an abundance of, like a holiday? Absolutely not, I should engage in self-flagellation and self-recrimination applying for jobs constantly.

I've had an ongoing headache and stomach discomfort since Monday which feels like aeons ago. If I asked the doctor they would say I was doing this to myself and that there is nothing they can do. I've been told this before and then I got depressed. But what I was before I suppose we'll never know. I forgot that person.

My day has started super early as my partner left for work, this makes the day longer but as we've agreed it maintains a routine. A routine where I make a cup of tea and retire to bed with the curtains wide open and my laptop and notepad in front of me.

Notepad has become my best friend as I indulge it with scrawling hieroglyphics depicting attempts at making something of myself. It's just a list of where I've applied for jobs adorned with doodles.

This is all procrastination. I have a phone-call this morning with a bank based in Leeds, they rejected me on the interview stage previously but I have always considered them a missed opportunity. Then I have a phone-call this afternoon with a debt charity based in the city-centre which also have rejected me at a previous juncture. Here I go, tail between my legs to try again. I got past the telephone stage for both of those employers previously and this morning I have myself wholly convinced I will fail miserably when speaking to them again.

Be honest. Be clear. Dazzle them.

My notepad has a sordid history. It still has notes from my most recent interview. The interview which led me down the path into the job which landed me in this position. Of course, the circumstances are not to blame when clearly I was the main contributing factor. I am a dazzling interviewee and an abject failure in reality. They realised this. I disappointed them.

I had a theory I would be excellent at speed-dating. I make a somewhat excellent first impression and then my frayed edges and deeply unlikable contradictory notions destroy all semblance of competence. I've no reason to go speed-dating as I am matrimonially inclined with my partner. I forgot to mention in my previous post we had visited a wedding venue. All of the money I saved up for a deposit will likely go toward my ongoing survival.

How can I be so pessimistic? I have two telephone interviews not even two days after walking away from my previous job? This could be good! I mean one of them is a speculative call rather than a proper interview, it's a foot in the door though. Would they judge me too harshly if my gaping wounds wept down the phone? Don't answer that.

I just read through this. I am damn pretentious. Why do I use long words? Does it make me feel smart? No, I just can't think of a straightforward way to say something so I throw a bunch of syllables out with a vague hope it makes sense.

I'm so nervous.

Tuesday, 1 May 2018

April 2018

Been a big month. A confusing and distracting one. Whenever I've felt down I've put my Star Wars blu-ray on for my sins. John Williams score and beautiful faces soothe me.

My partner had emergency surgery to remove his appendix. I arranged previously to cycle off my antidepressants and this came to an end. Then on the last day of the month I lost my job. This implies that I misplaced it but as it turns out, my best efforts and the environment did not work out in my favour. I start this new month unemployed. Have no fear, I am inexplicably torn up about this. The last film on my watch list ended up being a bit of a self-inflicted burn it would seem.


April
2/4 STARDEW VALLEY (Finished Spring Year 1)
3/4 Joel McHale Show (1) Riverdale (1)
4/4 Baden Baden (2016) Serial Mom (1994)
7/4 Writing Session (blog 3,051 words) STARDEW VALLEY (Finished Summer Year 1)
8/4 Jane the Virgin (1) Joel McHale Show (1) Unreal (2) UNCHARTED 4 (5 chapters completed)
9/4 Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017)
10/4 Star Wars: The Last Jedi – DVD Bonus Features
11/4 Unreal (1)
12/4 UNCHARTED 4 (6 chapters completed) The Last Picture Show (1971) Snow Canon (2011)
13/4 UNCHARTED 4 (12 chapters, game completed)
14/4 Strange Days (1995) UNCHARTED 4 (Speed Run – finally obtained platinum trophy!)
15/4 Documenteur (1981) Marie Antoinette (2006) STARDEW VALLEY (Finished Fall Year 1) Ishtar (1981) Joel McHale Show (1) It’s Always Sunny (1) (Cereal Defence) Bottle Rocket (1996)
16/4 All I Desire (1953) STARDEW VALLEY (Finished Winter Year 1) Magnificent Obsession (1954)  All That Heaven Allows (1955)
17/4 Unreal (1) As You Are (2015) STARDEW VALLEY (Finished Spring Year 2)
18/4 Tootsie (1982)
19/4 Jane the Virgin (1) Riverdale (1) Selma (2014)
20/4 Jane the Virgin (1) Caramel (2007) Happy Anniversary (2018)
22/4 The Fall (2006) Joel McHale Show (1) STARDEW VALLEY (Finished Summer Year 2)
23/4 Santa Clarita Diet (Season 1) (1)
24/4 Unreal (2) Written on the Wind (1956) Chefs Table (1)
25/4 Jane the Virgin (1) A History of Korea Kyung Moon Hwang (2010) 280p
26/4 Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017)
28/4 Gholam (2017) Riverdale (1) The Squid and the Whale (2005) Point Break (1991)  The Hitman’s Bodyguard (2017) STARDEW VALLEY (Finished Fall Year 2)
29/4 The Awful Truth (1937) North by Northwest (1959) Bridge of Spies (2015) The Avengers: Infinity War (2018)
30/4 Star Wars: The Last Jedi (Director’s Commentary) STARDEW VALLEY (Finished Winter Year 2) There’s Always Tomorrow (1956)

Saturday, 7 April 2018

Do What You Will

If anyone, God willing, is interested in reading my novel in another life, perhaps it's best not to read this blog post as it contains spoilers. Ha... Spoiling my own novel which doesn't actually exist yet.

Somebody asked me about my novel recently and it gave me pause. As I've mentioned before I haven't been very good at making any further additions to it lately but I have been reworking scenes and imagining scenarios from different perspectives lately. I thought in order to clear the clutter from my head it would be a good idea to work out what my main thoughts are within my novel. Taking time to step back and reflect is the best thing to do sometimes.

In my day to day life I feel like in a lot of cases people around me tend to react to what is in front of them and perspective becomes a singularly focused beam which is more destructive than beneficial. I think the term I have fallen back on is 'not being able to see the forest for the trees'. I feel like a novel is a forest and I've been focusing on individual trees (I'm starting to feel a little embarrassed about this analogy) for far too long. I've created a mass of words and chapters (sort of, I've never been good at ending a scene) without trying to determine what the story is actually about.

When I went to my writing club one particularly pleasant evening, a fella there (who was a film student I think) asked me and a friend to come up with an elevator pitch. It meant describing your story in less than 11 seconds to an exec who wants to make your film. Snappy, to the point, deliberate! My friend and I got there in the end with some babbling between us but I think we were both keenly aware that our ideas and thoughts were larger than a boiled down tagline. (At least that's what I felt). It reminded me that a lot of messy ideas are all well and good but I wonder where I'm going with this.

Recently I've been thinking about what has influenced me. Where did this core idea come from? I'll get to the main idea of my novel shortly but I thought it would be nice to think about how I've come to this point. I've surprised even myself when my brain suddenly produced two indelible pieces of art which I hadn't thought of in a long time but then realised of course this is where everything started.

One of my favourite films, which had a mind-boggling impact on my brain as a young woman, was surprisingly Naked by Mike Leigh. It was hard to get a hold of the DVD 15 years ago, especially before I had an Amazon Prime account, this was before they sold films like Trainspotting at HMV. I think me and my sister ended up getting a hold of special edition and there was a little post of David Thewlis' main character Johnny standing in inky darkness, only dull glowing orbs of streetlights illuminating him. Perhaps blu-tacking that to my ceiling had a bigger impact than I realised.

I was enamoured by the darkness of the film, the know-it all nihilism of the picaresque protagonist - all of those words were beyond my basic comprehension when watching the film as youthful teenager. I was just drawn in by the charismatic and ultimately despicable Johnny.

Then there was Dead Like Me. This was something that was on Sky One back in 2003 (around the same time but perhaps before I saw Naked) and captured something in my imagination I had never experienced before. Bryan Fuller's preoccupation with death has influenced me throughout my formative years even though he continues to create projects and step away from them for his own reasons - usually creative control. The first 3 episodes have his trademarks all over them and then he left I think. There's an imperceptible gear change as the show settles into a more almost procedural approach. The introduction to the world of grim reapers is brutal and cruel and it had a lasting impact of me. As far as world-building goes I think Dead Like Me and Twin Peaks have the most fascinating pilots and I could watch them repeatedly and happily ignore the rest.

In Dead Like Me the protagonist is a recently deceased teenage girl with a bad attitude and distinct lack of social skills. Seeing a theme here? My fascination with the afterlife started in my early teens and this fed into my belief that death, much like life, is as mundane and cruel as anything else rather than a heavenly cloud of love.

It's only taken several hundred words but I guess now is as good a time as any to discuss what my novel is about. When people ask I produce my casual summation 'assassins, lady assassins who run a business together and kill people making it look like an accident'. But what's the thrust of the plot you ask? 'Well, the main one who actually kills people starts to fall apart'. That's it, that's all I've got.

The way it works is that I've created three distinct women who operate together in an arrangement. There is the Head - known also as Helen, a widower who has recently remarried who works at an accountancy firm and also manages the business finances. She has the least to do with the murder. She has a nice house in the suburbs, a couple of daughters, a waspish attitude.

Then we have the Face - who is actually called Sarah, a recent graduate in her 20s who is lacking in direction or ambition. She has a nice flat in the stylish part of town and a lot of well connected university acquaintances. She also has a white fluffy cat called Walter (which was a Breaking Bad reference I felt particularly smug about inserting one particularly silly day). She operates as someone who meets the 'clients' in fancy restaurants and discusses their desires. She discreetly records them and they will then tell her who they would like to be murdered. But in the first instance it looks like Sarah is simply a nervous escort offering her company to affluent men.

Finally we have the last piece of the trifecta. I've always struggled with names, names give ownership over something, they hedge them in. A name is a powerful tool to control something - whether it's your child, or your pet, even your car or a particularly useful set of garden shears. By naming something you give it an anchor and there's a familiarity in that. I read somewhere 'to name her is to tame her'. Even code names or allusions seem to lessen 'Her' impact. I've just taken to using pronouns. It's 'Her' or 'She'. She cast of her identity many years ago. She has a scar across her neck disconnecting her head from her heart (I swear I had this idea before Seven Psychopaths... Oh well). She is the actual assassin. She engages with a mark and kills them and makes their death look like an unfortunate accident. Whether it's a slip in the bath, a drug overdose, a tumble down the stairs or in one particularly awful scene I wrote, She steals someone's keys and watches them die of hypothermia in their garden on a winter evening. She carries a gun but she only has the one and She has never shot anyone with it. It has a pearl handle and it is inherited from a former associate. She threatens people with it and that's about it.

I came up with various names for her for a while, the main one was the 'Hand' in line with the Face and the Head but that felt like something from a Marvel comic. Then it was the 'Shadow' but that was played out. I also tried something more poetic and the 'Gossamer Ghost' was a brief and swiftly shut down idea.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the fourth main character. Donovan is a rich boy from the upper circles of society who has somehow stumbled into the assassin character's web. Bless him, he's completely besotted with her. He's a puppy who will do anything for her and with minimal manipulation will assist her in causing the death of people he might even know personally. His father is a high powered adviser for people in government. He's charismatic and essentially a lad, the definition of masculine privilege but to be honest he has such a pleasant charm I can't help but enjoy his company.

Finally Old Cass or Cassandra Calvert. Aged battleaxe, ahem, fading actor. A massive influence on our assassin character who she plucked from the gutter and took under her wing to her apartments in the Quad. Initially Cass treated Her like a stray cat she had adopted letting her out of the house in the morning and letting her back in on the evening. Cass would display Her to friends who she entertained at lavish meals. 'Look at this homeless person I have taken in and cared for!' A common pretence between the women was to claim that the girl was a mute so she wouldn't have to speak, the scar on her neck was evidence enough of this. In the end Old Cass would end up 'whoring' the girl out to her friends but not the way you would expect. More on that later.

Then there's the most important thing which I have grappled with endlessly for many years now. The setting. Any story worth it's salt has an indelible setting which informs the story as much as the characters operating within it. I couldn't bare to try and write about somewhere real because the anal side of me insisted on making everything real and everything true. I needed a big metropolis but I'm a small town girl in the UK where we don't really have that kind of world. London is the closest analogue to the place I've created. It's not quite the world of sprawling skyscrapers and inky back alleys for the noir feeling I was going for but it works.

I called the city Apogeum, it's the apex and I pretty much have implied that this world is set in the not too distant future where London has essentially changed it's name. The main difference between my world and reality is that I have created a walled city within the centre of this massive capital hub city in the country. It's a pedestrianised 'Quadrangle' or 'Quad' depending on my mood. There are 4 watchtowers and entrances with large walls erected around it. This sector of the city contains the Houses of Parliament and political centres, it also has the main homes of the Royal Family and the most important sites of historical importance. Probably a good time to mention that Donovan's dad was a spin doctor/key player in the creation and follow through of this expensive and frankly insane project. He greased a lot of palms and gained the favour of a lot of powerful people by pushing the legislation through and effectively creating a wall between the haves and have nots.

This was subconsciously influenced by current affairs and the idea that this essential part of the country was protected from attack by outside influences. The people in power advised that this would be rolled out to the other large cities within the country but I tried to explain (with my limited vocabulary) that due to the implication of local councils bickering about where the boundaries would lie in each city and lack of funding from the central government that this had not been initiated elsewhere at the time. The implication was that it had been stymied by those in power as it wasn't seen as essential to the people outside of the capital. I'm such a cynic though.

Apogeum does not end with the Quad, there are districts situated around this which feed into it. Mainly the 'Financial District' where a lot of the action takes place - mostly skyscrapers and fancy apartments there and that's where Sarah and Donovan live. Then there's the 'Commercial' district. And some suburban areas. It wouldn't be London without a river and there's a classy section of suburbia based on the river known as 'The Bend' where all the posh people live who aren't able to find residences in the Quad.

My recurrent refrain (because the majority of my characters live outside of this bubble) is that the 'air is different' in the 'cage' or the 'Quad'. Then the idea developed that was it to keep the dangerous people or to keep them pegged in? Oooooh! I'm getting tired now...

The idea was that the women who operate their business by approaching rich selfish people (usually men, but not exclusively) who ask them to dispose of nuisance people. They request a pretty large fee to do so but the business is booming. They operate with an air of discretion and a remarkable success rate. Obviously that they are still running and a known secret in the upper echelons of society is quite a feat in and of itself. Sarah is the most beautiful woman in the room and people are charmed by her insouciance. She ingratiates herself (at first she's pretty shy and rubbish at this) and learns what people want and who is irritated by who. Sarah is the queen of manipulation and she has a deep streak of self-loathing regarding this. Sarah started out as a young delicate girl who indulges in this world of deception and dead inevitably becoming a cog in the machine.

At the end of the day you're either in with these terrible people or you're out in the cold. Where the air is different, the world is a little warmer and more elegant. Is it worth selling your soul?

Which brings us to Her. How did she come to be? She was adopted by Old Cass from the street - that was a fun chapter I doubt I will ever change. She lived in the Quad for a few years with Cass. Then Cass heard about an old friend who had recently died but he had committed suicide. A recent law had been passed -‘Declarations of Presumptive Deceased Act of 2019’. (I'm aware it makes no sense.) The Act dictated that those who were evidenced not to cost the tax payer due to ailing health or excessive care requirements would be exempt from paying a large portion of their Inheritance Tax bill as calculated as of the date of death. Her old friend's very clever accountants managed to circumvent the IHT with their wicked ways. I'm under no illusion it would be so easy to say - suicide = free pass but that's the environment it created. Obviously the law does not explicitly state this and it takes some clever accountants who can parse out the fine print to manipulate this legislation.

Side note - I worked in the Bereavement Team at a big bank and Inheritance Tax bills can be pretty ridiculous depending on your assets when you die. I recall reading into it and people moaning a lot about how you get taxed on everything when you're alive and then you get taxed even more when you die. It was fascinating. I came up with the above legal loophole and big surprise shortly after the 'Dementia Tax' scandal occurred burying Theresa May's assumed majority in her snap election (there were many other contributing factors but her perspective was clearly lacking.)

Anyhoo, Cass saw an opportunity and went for it. She began to use this tale of her friend ending his life allowing his family to receive the full amount owed to them on his death. Cass, as an actor and a well-connected and admired woman, used her charisma and connections and began to convince acquaintances to consider this option. It's not something discussed in polite society of course but Cass managed to get away with this picking off her weaker friends. Because she came up with this idea cash was discreetly sent her way in thanks in 'off the books' payments. To ensure these people went through with their agreed scheme Cass sent the girl she had picked up off the streets to sit with these people in their final moments. Cass considered staying with them herself but chickened out.

Our main assassin would lay in bed with these soon to be deceased pensioners and lie awake as they passed away. Of course in my twisted humour, I framed these past encounters to appear as Cass pimping out the girl to old wrinkly people (men and women). In the morning She would crawl out of bed and sneak out of the lavish rooms quietly as the old people lay motionless in their beds. She would describe it to someone at a later point as lying perfectly still and waiting for it to be over, the assumptions being more salacious than the reality. After observing death for quite some time and receiving bundles of cash which She stored in a biscuit tin this inevitably caused some damage to the girl.

One evening the girl encountered a 'client' who had changed their mind and did not wish to go ahead with their planned evening. She thought nothing of it and left him to his own devices. Cass lost her mind in a rage and was terrified that the person, who was fully aware of the deal and what Cass was doing, could potentially tell others about what she was doing. Cass gave Her a gun with a pearl encrusted handle and told her that it was her responsibility to ensure that the 'deal was done'.

How to create an assassin ladies and gentleman. How do I come up with these things?

She then gradually pulled away from Cass mainly because Cass ran out of people to manipulate and lost interest in their partnership. She then encountered Helen. Helen who was sobbing over a cheating husband and a shattered life. She did what she could to help in the only way she figured she knew how. Helen's husband was found strapped into his car which had crashed off a bridge with his lover in the back seat a couple of weeks later.

She approached Helen and tried to apologise with a biscuit tin of money but Helen instead saw an opportunity and this was how the business was born.

Sunday, 1 April 2018

March 2018

It was a bit of a feminist affair this month. Women and their contributions are at the forefront of my brain. Whether this was intentional or not I can't really tell. History book club focused on the Suffragette movement. I was fascinated by this and unsurprisingly became quite invested in what I learnt and took away from my reading.

Also shout out to the fact that I read 5 books in a month. Unfortunately my novel has fallen by the wayside but I feel suitably invigorated to try again. I have some ideas but as soon as I delve into the walls of text I've produced I'm sure that will dissipate.

I wrote a very depressing blog which I didn't publish because I'm trying my best not let ephemeral feelings define who I am. I get sad, unbearably so, but I can be happy too. Wouldn't want to convince myself that this is not the case.

1/3 Ugly Delicious (1)
2/3 Wild at Heart (1990)
3/3 Smashed: Growing up a Drunk Girl Koren Zailckas 2005 343p Ugly Delicious (1) Seven Psychopaths (2012) Writing session (924 words – blog)
4/3 Sunday Politics (1) On Body and Soul (2017) No Country For Old Men (2007)  Joel McHale Show (1) Writing Session (1,076 words – blog)
5/3 Ugly Delicious (1) Altered Carbon (1)
6/3 Unreal (1) Ugly Delicious (1)
7/3 The Party Elizabeth Day 2017 294p
8/3 Ugly Delicious (1) Altered Carbon (1)
9/3 Jessica Jones Season 2 (2)
11/3 Sunday Politics (1) Jessica Jones (9)
12/3 Jessica Jones (2)
13/3 Riverdale (1) Mute (2018) Joel McHale Show (1) Always Sunny (1)
14/3 Ladybird (2017) Jane the Virgin (1)
15/3 Ugly Delicious (1)
16/3 Riverdale (1) When We First Met (2018) Admission (2013) Writing Session (907 words – blog unpublished)
17/3 Unreal (1) Las Plantas (2015)
18/3 Hearts and Minds: The Untold Story of the Great Pilgrimage and How Women Won the Vote Jane Robinson 2018 p353
20/3 Jane the Virgin (1)
21/1 The Ascent of Woman: A History of the Suffragette Movement and the Ideas Behind It Melanie Phillips 2003 317p
24/3 Thelma (2017) Annihilation (2018) Riverdale (1)
25/3 Sunday Politics (1) Going My Way (1944) Joel McHale Show (1) Investigation of a Citizen Above Suspicion (1970)
26/3 Unreal (1) Morvern Callar (2002) Meshes of the Afternoon (1943) UNCHARTED: LOST LEGACY (Naughty Dog – obtained Platinum trophy)
27/3 Pacific Rim Uprising (2018) Pacific Rim (2013)
28/3 The Crimson Petal and the White Michel Faber (2002) 835p
30/3 BATMAN: THE ENEMY WITHIN (Telltale games - all 5 episodes completed)