Re: Pulp Adventures: Chicago, 1933 !
Chicago, 1933. The World's Fair. A place where anyone might turn up and anything might happen.
Amid the hustle and bustle, squeezed rather ignominiously in a corner between a busy hot-dog vendor and a crowded hamburger stand was a fresh-faced young gentleman, hardly out of his teenage years it seemed, speaking to an attractive red-haired woman. The woman was dressed in a strange manner - avant garde in some ways, with her dark trousers, and simply untidy in others, as evidenced by her ink-stained fingers and slightly windblown hair. She answered the young man's questions with cool confidence. For anybody who cared to look closely, in conjunction with the aforementioned ink-stained fingers, the voluminous bag she cannily held next to her, which was haphazardly stuffed with papers and knickknacks bought at the fair, proclaimed her profession.
Seven years had wrought their changes in Marianne Trevors. No longer a green woman on her first adventure, she stood, walked and talked with cool composure and a familiar certainty that she could handle herself, a certainty that had been nothing but sheer stubbornness seven years ago, but was quite justified now. There was no evidence of her temper in sight as she admirably parried the young man's questions, and her smile flashed easily.
"So it is true that all of your tales are thinly disguised accounts of your own adventures, Ms. Trevors?" the young man pressed, a little annoyed at her repeated dodges.
"As I said, Mr. Barkley, it is indeed true. There is no greater muse than experience. Every word I've written, I've also known first-hand."
"The Immortals series? The Ten Lives of Basil Rose? Marguerite and the Jewel of the Nile? Into the Heart of the Volcano?" He reeled off some of her bestselling titles, to which, "Each and every one of them," she confirmed.
"Well, you can hardly expect me to believe -" the young reporter began, only to be cut off by Marianne's kind but firm smile.
"I used to be of your school, Mr. Barkley, but truth can sometimes be stranger than fiction. There are more things on heaven and earth, and all that. And when you've seen the things I've seen..." She shrugged airily, but seeing the reporter biting his tongue, she relented and smiled. "I'm sorry, Mr. Barkley, I shouldn't have my fun at your expense. If it makes you comfortable, you might say my stories were inspired by my travels to other parts of the world. Certainly, none of my books are devoid of my imaginative touches. Although, I do think my explanation is the more interesting one," she added.
The reporter, only a little mollified, grudgingly moved on to his last question. "And your next tale is going to be set at the World's Fair, right here in Chicago? Can you give us a preview of what to expect?"
Marianne laughed. "I can't give any professional secrets away, but be on the lookout for handsome heroes, beautiful heroines, and the dark, dangerous underbelly of the world's brightest fairgrounds."
And with that, plus an autographed page of scribblings she yanked out of her bag for the young reporter's sister, (from his annoyed account, she was certain to have it in for him if he told her he had met her favorite author and hadn't gotten anything for her. Marianne wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't deserve it, but he was as inexperienced as she had been when she had blithely set off with Basil, so she felt a touch of sympathy), the interview was ended. While he was still exclaiming over it with relief, Marianne gracefully made good her escape into the crowds. She had a book to write and a fair to see, and no inclination to waste a moment!
This message was last edited by the player at 04:48, Fri 02 May 2008.
