Two actresses who coloured my writings of fictional heroine Salt Delray in the novel #Entrangement Where Colours Don’t Bleed, were Nicole da Silva and Tuppence Middleton.
In the first 16 pages the reader learns how the character of Salt must exert the power of choice and risk everything to save her lover’s death – following these opening scenes – laying down the foundations – the story starts once Salt escapes imprisonment and enters a hidden underworld – which soon turns into a very different, terrifying reality…
Lethally Lovely –
Without taking inspiration from both actresses Nicole da Silva and Tuppence Middleton; who have played lovely but lethal heroines, #Entrangement would undoubtedly have had a very different beginning. For as every writer knows, in the creation of characters – they must reveal themselves as people do – through appearance, voice, mannerisms and subtle behaviours and attitudes before we, the reader, can see them for who they really are.
Indelible Sheros –
From Nicole da Silva’s depiction of Franky in the series Wentworth, I was able to draw upon the mind-set that “difficult doesn’t mean impossible” for my heroine, Salt. Nicole portrays a woman who, when all would appear to be against her, can and will seek an alternative with formidable creativity. A heroine to be reckoned with, not against.
While viewing actress, Tuppence Middleton in The Lady Vanishes – showing both vulnerability and determination against falsehoods, I wrote the opening page to the novel #Entrangement – which remains as true as the day I first wrote it:
#Salt – Sensing I am alone now, I open my eyes and confirm there is nothing between myself and the flickering source of candle light, only the book – I reach down and take its edge.
Moments ago, a prison guard hurled the book into my cell – taunting words followed – according to common wisdom it’s unlucky for a prisoner to read their own book of life. The truth is – I am my own woman, and anyone who claims I am not, professes to know a different me!
I lower the book, letting the candlelight shine onto it. The title reads: Prisoner Of The Past: Salt Delray. I open it, but am bedazzled by dancing light and shadows. Only a stir of knowing reaches up from the pages; and I’m transfixed, seemingly recognising the outline of words. The book becomes heavier in my hands as new pages and chapters are added to the volume – it appears to be writing itself.
I take the candle and move it close to the book. The hot wax drips onto the pages, the liquid runs, spelling out words as it presses and cools to congeal. It has written: If you sit very still, you can hear the sun move. The meaning doesn’t resonate to me. Then I gasp, sighting a kiss from the flame to the book’s corner. Instantly my fingers fly to knockback the fire, but the book has already changed into charred paper, unravelling wisps drift upwards and out through my prison cell window, towards the setting sola sun.
Turning my face to the wall, despair escapes me which isn’t silent. I only hope my instincts aren’t as close as far away. For I have read of a time and a place yet to be lived – the future. If I’m right, and this isn’t a cruel deception, then my life will continue.
But if I’m wrong?
The cell door bangs open. I wheel round. A prison guard rasps, “It’s time!”