Post by BECCA on Feb 17, 2014 9:43:31 GMT -5
[presto]
TWENTY TWO
FEMALE
JOURNALIST/EDITOR
HALFBLOOD
PANSEXUAL
DARLA BAKER
SUZANNE TAMARA STANLEY
 Meet the Editor Well, if this is the first edition of Veritaserum you’ve ever picked up, what the fuck have you been doing with yourself for the last eighteen months? Stop making that shocked face; this is my newspaper, so I get to swear if I want to. No, but clearly, I’m joking. If this really is the first edition you’ve ever read, you’re in luck, because this is the issue where you finally get to find out a bit more about your enigmatic and mysterious editor. So, here I sit, armed with quill and a mug of Glenmorangie, preparing to bring you an article, not on the latest way the Ministry has failed to do anything useful, nor even on a certain Junior Assistant to the Minister’s accidental dick joke in a press conference last week, but on me, Suzanne Tamara Stanley. So, let’s start with some basics. I know, I know, you’re not really interested in the trivial facts of my early life. I’m sure you’d rather hear about who I slept with last Saturday night. But I have to fill the space somehow, and I’ll get to last Saturday night later. Promise. Nobody calls me Suzanne, to begin with. My parents used to call me Susie (they still do actually) but I dropped that fairly quickly once I got to school, and have been known as Zanna for a long number of years now. I was born on December the 3rd 2001, at which point I unfortunately already had a three-year-old brother. My mother’s a sculptor and my father runs a Muggle Arts Centre (despite being a wizard), and they taught me many important things in my early years, such as how never to clean up after myself, how not to cook, and, most importantly, why not to listen to anything either of them ever said. My brother works – wait for it – for the Ministry. Yes, the same Ministry that provides me with my most consistent fodder for amusing articles. Unfortunately, Sam has never done anything interesting enough to provide me with any fodder himself. You see, I can write what I want about my family, since they don’t read my paper. The only one who may possibly be intelligent enough for it is my sister (Hence I’m being nicer about her – in case she reads it. Turns out I have a heart after all.). Faye’s the youngest of us, still at school – Seventh Year, I believe. Or Sixth. Don’t quote me on that. My childhood was entirely unremarkable. I was very independent, read everything I could get my hands on, and occasionally behaved very badly. Not, I may add, because I’m one of those people who breaks rules for the thrill of it. But if a rule is stupid, or gets in the way of something perfectly reasonable I want to do, then I’m certainly not going to take any notice of it. My parents didn’t lay all that many rules down, to be honest, so mostly I did as I liked, at least until I started Hogwarts. Ah yes, Hogwarts. Those years from eleven to eighteen, of raging hormones and teen drama and the chaos of confusing character growth. I left most of that to other people. I was a Slytherin, no great surprise to anyone who knows me. I had friends, but not all that many, which was the way I liked it. Watching people always amused me more than interacting with them – I was an antisocial, intellectual brat with a superiority complex, who believed that I hated humanity in general. I’ve relaxed a bit since then, you’ll be glad to hear. I am no longer quite so antisocial (most of the time) and I acknowledge that humanity isn’t all bad. I’ve also developed my sense of humour quite a lot. I don’t think you can be a successful satire writer unless you can also take a joke against yourself. But I kept out of the petty drama, wrote everything down for use later, and spent my time reading gloomy poetry about death. Quite the fun friend, as I’m sure you can tell. As for hormones, well, yes I had them, but let’s just say I was picky. Not in terms of gender, which really didn’t and doesn’t matter to me. But in terms of personality, yes. If you’re reading this and ever dated, kissed or went further with me while we were still at school, you should feel special and honoured. Also possibly slightly creeped out, since I probably spent quite a while watching you and assessing your every move to see whether or not you were worth it. Innocent is not a word that could be used to describe me, though. My mother attempted to have ‘the talk’ with me when I was twelve, and she found me reading a book of graphically erotic stories, and I laughed in her face and informed her I knew it all already, which I did. There are side effects of being an avid reader. I’d improved a little by the time I left school. Widened my friendship circle, got a little more sociable, had sex a couple of times, discovered the joys of alcohol, that sort of thing. I passed my OWLs and NEWTs with flying colour, because I happen to have brains, though I’m not telling you my exact grades. And now? Well, now I am obviously the illustrious editor of your favourite satirical newspaper, Veritaserum, so called for the obvious reason that I print the truths behind the facades. They may be grim or they may be ridiculous, but there’s always a funny side to be found. As you know, unless this is really is the first edition you’ve ever picked up, I stick more to politics than vapid celebrities, and I’m not interested in trivial personal details of people who don’t hold public office. Well, that’s a lie – I am interested, and I probably know as many of them as anyone, due to my habits of watching, listening, and remembering everything. That’s not what I print though – we have the good old Gossip Witch for that. I’ll let you in on a secret – I applied for a job at The Prophet straight out of school, but they turned me down because my sample article was too inflammatory. So I started my own paper, with a friend to take care of the photography and artistic side of it (I’m decidedly not an artist), and we’ve gone from strength to strength. When we first started out, I was working in a kebab shop every night to make ends meet, but I’ve given that up now, and am a full time writer and editor, and we bring out an issue every month. One day I might also finish the novel I’ve been working on since school, but right now Veritaserum soaks up all my time. I still live in the same old bedsit in Bristol that I’ve had for four years – some people ask why, when I could probably afford somewhere nicer and bigger, but the truth is, I like small, and I’m fond of the place. It suits me, and it suits my cats. Oh yes, I have two – Voldemort and Grindelwald. Some people say that my sense of humour is somewhat dark; I’m not sure why. I am aware that living alone in grimy bedsit with two cats, earning my living writing, makes me something of a cliché, but don’t worry – I revel in it. My pleasures are the small things in life – strong coffee, hard liquor, cigarettes (sometimes I think about trying to quit) poetry, high heels and very loud music. Apparently there’s a rumour that I keep whips and handcuffs under my bed, which is utter nonsense – I don’t have a bed, I have a mattress, so I couldn’t possibly keep them there. If I’ve ever met you, I probably remember you – don’t feel too flattered though, because that doesn’t mean I remember the good things about you. I’m told I can be somewhat unpredictable – in certain moods, I am all charm (especially if you’re the underdog, because if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a bully), while in others I will take you apart with words, and in others I may throw things at your head. It’s really impossible to tell which I’ll do, which I enjoy – it’s good for people to be kept on their toes. Please buy my paper. It pays for cat food, and you wouldn’t want Voldemort and Grindelwald to go hungry, would you? Not to mention my poor little team of journalists. Oh, and I was meant to tell you about who I slept with last Saturday night, wasn’t I? Actually, that was just a hook to keep you reading. The answer is nobody. Sorry. becca 25 GMT |
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