Finding Cherokee Brown. Siobhan Curham

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СКАЧАТЬ With Agatha Dashwood’s help I was going to write a novel about my crappy life but, unlike my crappy life, it wouldn’t be dictated by my mum or Alan or the brain-deads at school or any of my stupid teachers. It would be my story. Told my way.

Notebook Extract

       Character Questionnaire No. 1

      ‘When I started out in my writing career, many years ago, writing short stories and serials for The Respected Lady magazine, the Character Questionnaire became my most cherished friend. Use the template below before you start your story to get to know your own characters even better than you know yourself.’

       Agatha Dashwood,

       So You Want to Write a Novel?

      OK, I’ve got a bit of a problem. I’ve been trying to do a Character Questionnaire on my main character – namely me. And that’s the problem: the ‘namely’ bit. I mean, who would choose to call their main character Claire Weeks? It’s hardly exciting, is it? Hardly the name of a kick-ass literary heroine. I’ll just have to invent myself a new name. A heroic name. A name that will sit proudly alongside Anne Frank and Laura Ingalls Wilder on bookshelves and not want to cower in embarrassment.

       Possible Kick-Ass Literary Heroine Names:

      Roxy Montana – too much like Hannah?

      Ruby Fire – naff !

      Laura Wild – too similar to one of my real literary heroines.

      Anna Franklyn – ditto.

      Jet Steele – sounds like a female wrestler!

      Hmm, I guess I’ll come back to my name later or I’ll never get started on the book. I’ll just stay as Claire for now. And keep my surname as Weeks, even though it sounds like ‘weak’. Just another great thing to thank my stepdad Alan for, I guess. Along with a knowledge of Neil Diamond that borders on child abuse. Why can’t he listen to music from after 1980? And songs that don’t have titles like ‘Forever in Blue Jeans’! Is it any wonder I’ve been driven to seek refuge in the world of literature?

      Anyway, back to the questionnaire:

       Character’s name:

      Claire Weeks (soon to be changed to something way more kick-ass).

       Character’s age:

      Fifteen (well, fifteen in one day’s time).

       Briefly describe your character’s appearance:

      She is short and thin, with dark brown shoulder-length hair and brown eyes. She needs a radical makeover.

       What kind of clothes do they wear?

      Black.

       How do they get on with their parents?

      They don’t.

       What physical objects do they associate with their parents?

      An iPhone permanently attached to her stepdad’s hand like some kind of growth. And a collection of tracksuits in every colour of the rainbow for her mum.

       Do they have any brothers or sisters?

      No, but they have a couple of alien life forms from the Planet Obnoxious posing as seven-year-old twin brothers.

       What was their childhood like?

      Grim – and it still is.

       Think of one positive and one negative event from their past and how it has shaped them:

      Hmm, well, the first thing that springs to mind is the day Helen moved away to Bognor Regis. This was mortally negative on two counts: firstly, I lost my one true friend and secondly, who wants to live in a place that is named after a bog? Seriously! And just because some bright spark added the word Regis (which I think means royal), it doesn’t make it any less bog-sounding. Then there was the time last summer when I wanted to go to the Hyde Park Music Festival, but Alan said I couldn’t because Jay-Z was headlining and he felt that listening to too much rap music would be ‘bad for my personal development’. Like listening to Neil Diamond droning on about being ‘forever in blue jeans’ isn’t?!! Of course, my mum agreed with him. She always agrees with Alan because he is a life coach and therefore ‘an expert at life’. I’m not so sure about that. As far as I can tell, being a life coach basically means that you charge people a load of money to tell them how messed up their lives are and then charge them another load to tell them they need to fix it.

      Alan’s company is called OH YES YOU CAN! and he likes to do those really annoying mimed speech mark things with his fingers whenever he’s talking and wants to emphasise a word. For example, when I told him that I don’t even like rap and I actually wanted to go to the music festival to see the rock band Screaming Death, he looked at me and sighed and said, ‘I don’t really think that subjecting yourself to a day of heavy metal would really be “helpful” for your personal development either, Claire.’ And he wiggled two fingers on each hand around the word helpful. Personally I think he is a “complete moron”.

      Right, better try and think of a positive event for my character. There was the moment I made friends with Helen, on our first day at Rayners High. I’d been sitting in our classroom, faking smiles like I had a twitch while thinking, Oh, God, why couldn’t I have been born in 1867 to a pioneer family in the American Midwest and only have to worry about making it through the next winter rather than seven long years at high school? But then, when one of the boys started teasing this Asian girl and everyone else started laughing, I caught sight of Helen. I could see from the way she was frowning that she was thinking the exact same as me – this boy is a total loser. As soon as I managed to make eye contact with her I sort of raised one eyebrow, the way I’d seen this sarcastic cop character do on TV, and she did the same back and then we both started smiling – but proper, mean-it smiles rather than oh-my-god-my-jaw-is-going-to-break-if-I-have-to-prop-this-thing-up-any-longer kind of smiles.

      That was a whole four years ago now. It’s been six months since Helen moved away. Her leaving is another reason for me writing a book. I don’t really have anyone to talk to any more – not anyone who gets me. And the great thing about having an imaginary reader is that you can write exactly what you want, how you want, and you can at least pretend that they’ll like and understand you. And won’t want to beat you up or call you names.

       How does your character speak?

      Too fast apparently, at least according to her mum and Miss Davis, her form tutor.

       What is their favourite meal?

      Fish and chips wrapped in paper, with loads of salt and vinegar, outside on a freezing cold day.

       Do they believe in God?

      No. Don’t know. Maybe. But not a God with a long white beard who СКАЧАТЬ