Sarcoline (Grace Kelly)

My short story collection, Candescent Blooms,  was published by Salt Publishing recently. I've previously posted here with regards to the background to the collection, and the fact that twelve Hollywood actors whose lives ended prematurely are the main characters in each of the twelve stories. As stated in that post, the intention in the run-up to publication is to focus on each actor with some snippets of information (both about them and the writing of their stories). These posts will follow the same format for each. Our twelfth (and final) character is Grace Kelly.

1: the reason for the title of the story

I can't remember where I first heard the word sarcoline, although as my partner, the poet Sophie Essex, was working on a book of colour poems (published as Some Pink Star), it might have come out of that. Sarcoline being flesh-coloured. There's a certain transparency in clothing which is flesh-coloured, and a certain honesty to Grace Kelly. Whilst there is no direct link to her, it felt an ideal fit.

2: why I chose that actor

Grace Kelly's fairytale wedding to Prince Rainer of Monaco tragically ended following a car crash. I adore Grace in her films - especially Hitchcock's Rear Window (that slo-mo kiss!) - so whilst her death occurred comparatively recently (1982 being recent to this old codger) it was a no-brainer to include her.

3: one 'gift' that enhanced the story

The metallic green Rover P6 3500 that Grace was driving when she had her accident was subsequently crushed, cubed, and dropped into the Mediterranean sea on the orders of her husband. As a result of which, the colour green or a green cube foreshadows Grace's life on several occasions during my story.

4: one thing I never knew about them

The ballerina Margot Fonteyn taught Grace to dance The Twist.

5: an extract from the story

In her room at the Barbizon Hotel for Women she lays diagonally across the bed. The tape recorder squeaks on rewind. She simultaneously presses record and play. Speaks: fairytales tell imaginary stories. Me, I’m a living person. I exist. On the bed beside her lies the script for Strindberg’s The Father. She reaches for a pencil and taps it against her teeth. Her legs extend upwards, crossed at the ankle. Within a coffee cup, dregs congeal. This scene is lit by the non-Technicolor glow of her bedside lamp, its shade muted yellow as the beam.

6: what music I listened to whilst I wrote it.

Perhaps incongruously, I wrote the entirety of this story whilst listening to a cover of the Ricky Nelson song, Sweeter Than You, by Dr John Cooper Clarke and Hugh Cornwell. But just listen, it's perfect, isn't it?

This concludes a series of blog posts regarding the characters in my new short story collection, Candescent Blooms. If you've stayed the journey and are interested, please buy Candescent Blooms here.