#writing as a full artistic endeavor with the intent of conveying something.

[amelikos]

To make my stance clear for my posts on here, this blog is stricly a spoilers yes leaks no zone.

[casual-eumetazoa]

i’m a perpetually broke grad student so instead of buying gifts for Christmas and birthdays i write fanfics or short stories for friends. Christmas 2019 i asked my best friend to pick up to three genres for his gift story and he told me political drama + classical literature + self-help. i added steampunk sci-fi to that and took that as a challenge...

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A Yule Anthem

(or how to end the monarchy and overthrow the government in twelve* simple steps)

a memoir by Erasmus Waynard Smith, a once royal circuit keeper

 *

Season’s greetings to you, dearest reader. Although I have no way of verifying this, it is quite likely that you are starting this book on the dawn of a Yule, as this is the date my memoir is set to be released. If that is the case, then happy holidays! I wish you all the best. May the spirits of old Earth guard you and support you in all of your endeavors in the upcoming cycle of the Suns.

It is with an unsteady hand that I begin this story, for I have never intended for it to be heard. Indeed, the book you are projecting onto your cornea as of this very moment would not exist if it wasn’t for the efforts, diligence, and, if I may be so frank, stubbornness of a certain someone.

Thirteen months ago, you see, I was approached by Theodosia Pruce – a talented and perceptive lady from the distant, exotic shores of the planet Zanzibar. Miss Pruce was the one who convinced me to put my memories into words, for the sake of future generations. And although I do not give as much as half a bitcoin for the future generations, I was, nonetheless, swayed, by the most generous offer of a personal mansion on a resort world and a fully paid pension for the rest of my physical existence. And so, I am sitting here now, a tall glass of rapidly cooling Roomas juice by my side, and a touchscreen quill pressed tightly in between my fingers, trying to jolt my memory and produce exactly as many words as I was asked for, not a word more, not a word less.

Conveying all the truth and nothing but the truth about these events is an earnest challenge for me. I am an old man of a hundred and fifty now, dearest reader, and 2237 seems centuries away from the present. Back then, I was a young lad of hardly forty, and my mind was full of foolish desires, far-reaching ambitions, and cotton candy. I worked as a royal circuit keeper in her majesty’s planetary servers - a skillful but simple and honest occupation - and, like so many before me and around me, dreamed of preposterous things. Dreamed of success, and money, and love, and a glorious revolution…

Lean back, dearest reader, adjust your mindscreen settings, and let me bring you with me on a trip to the past and tell you how to accomplish what I have somehow accomplished.

step 1: identify your project

This story begins on a dark, uneasy, snowy evening, on the first day of Yule of 2237. The shifts down at the factories and the river banks were rolling to the end, and the work hours just came to a close for all the royal employees. I – your faithful servant – had only about arrived at my usual spot, the Drunk Mongoose pub, when a roar of thunder shook the ground and shattered the glass in the liquor cabinet.

-The forecast didn’t say no thunder snowstorm. -  Said my best friend Arabella, as she fell down into a lumpy seat beside me. – I left Boy outside. If he will get struck by lightning again, I’ll never get the money to replace his burned-out batteries.

-Chill. – I advised, and took a generous sip of my drink. – It don’t seem to be a big one.

As if to disavow my word, the thunder crashed again, with twice as much strength this time. It pulsed through the floor, crackled in the walls and shook the roof above our heads.

-I ain’t likin’ it. – I whispered.

The lights and sounds of the pub were starting to flicker.

-Same. – Arabella retorted, clutching the rackety table with utmost strength.

Side by side, we watched as every single candle and kerosene lamp in the building lingered and died, blown out at once by a rush of electromagnetic wind. A low, irritating murmur reached my ears, and I realized that the entire holographic engine must have gone caput. For the second time this lunar cycle.

-Not again! – Came the exasperated moan of Octavius, the pub owner.

I sighed, and forced myself out of my seat, intent on helping the man with the machine.

-The entire network’s down. – Arabella informed, pointing at the blank projected screen of her pocket watch. – I’m so sick of this, Ersh. They’d promised to fix this back during the wet season!

-Sick of the government? – Yelled some drunken gentlemen from the other side of the pub. – Sick of his majesty’s empty promises?

-Yeah! – Another random visitor of the establishment supported the man enthusiastically.

-Well big mood, I tell ya. – The first man snorted. – Everyone hates them, but ain’t no one gon’ do a thing about it. So get back to your work.

Now I cannot put my finger on why that simple remark had such a profound effect on me… Was it the man’s voice, so full of despair and apathy and subdued anger? Was it my own exhaustion, the quiet rage at the thought of coming back home by foot, through the howling thunder and snow, in the absence of a sky bus? All in all, something must have short-circuited in my mind, as a sat back down, looked Arabella in the eyes and said, in a voice most confident:

-You know what? Let’s overthrow the government.

 step 2: define goals and objectives

On my way home, I was drowning in feverish frenzy, drunk without wine and hopeful beyond reason. Oh, for how long I have dreamt of this! Many a morning I have spent imagining what it would be like to live on a planet fair, unburdened, free from the thralls of corrupt government and incompetent king. I knew that I wanted it, and I knew that every one of us wanted it, and, somehow, despite all common sense, I knew that I could do it.

I stumbled out of the pub and wondered on unsteady feet towards the docks. The snow swirled and raged around me, and my blurry eyes struggled to focus on my surroundings. I stopped at the slope of the northern canal and gazed into the clouded sky, feeling the snowflakes land on my eyelashes and the wind slash my face. I cannot tell you why, dearest reader, but I felt so utterly happy.

-How much for an uber these days? – I announced cheerfully as I approached the line of carriages waiting by the canal.

-Three fifty for a mile. – Echoed one of the drivers – an older lady, who was stroking the head of a white, shabby-looking horse.

-Steep. – I whistled, and swung myself into the carriage. – Hampton Hall please, down at the cross of Richmond and Westby.

She nodded at me, and pushed the minute counter switch. One word to the horse, and I could hear the sound of its metal hooves striking against the cobblestone. I half-sat, half-laid in my seat, staring at the hole-ridden ceiling of the carriage, and listening to the sounds of the dreaming city.

‘Alrighty then’, I thought, pulling out my notebook. It had hardly any charge left, so the bleak night mode would have to suffice.

“Tasks for tomorrow”, I noted down, and drew a flower on each side of the line. “Destroy the government from the inside. Make King Edmund step down from the throne. Profit”.

 step 3: define tasks

It was only at noon next day when the realization of what I just committed myself to hit me like a bolt of lightning. I was enjoying my Roomas (the good kind – they don’t grow it right anymore) with my colleagues at the servers, and suddenly it dawned on me – I was going to take this planet apart, bit by bit. So powerful that was, so profoundly terrifying, that I had to excuse myself and sit in a locked bathroom stall, wheezing, my heart pounding in my chest. A few girls and a man must have heard me, as I was asked repeatedly whether I was okay.

I was not, but I was going to be.

I went straight home after the workday was over. I forced myself to gather my thoughts, and look rationally at this situation. This task, though ambitious, no doubt, could surely be accomplished. I knew this planet, knew it through and through. I knew politics too – it was the first thing I ever studied in university, and I hated it, I’ll admit, but it was useful nonetheless. All I needed was to sit down, think it through, and draft a plan.

And that is precisely what I did.

 step 4: build your team

We met in the abandoned park by the lakes at dawn the next morning. The air was bity with cold and static electricity, and the seven of us could not help but shiver as we walked towards our gazebo. It was buried underneath a thick layer of snow, and I laughed as Arabella pretended to push the fluffy heap onto my head.

-Good morning, everyone. – I greeted, inviting them inside before myself.

-Skip to the important bit, please.  -Arabella yawned, and took her seat at the table.

-Fair enough.

I took a deep breath in and gazed upon my freshly assembled crew. Arabella, a fellow circuit keeper and the fastest hacker I have ever met. Ambrose, a talented but not extensively successful journalist. Cecilia, an up-and-coming politician herself, but currently a secretary to one of the most famous politicians on the planet. Wilhelmina, a social media manager with hundreds of contacts at her fingertips. Josiah, an artist and designer, currently one of the official dressmakers to the king. Euphemia, a policewoman in the past, now a social activist and respected public figure. Matthew, a writer and a poet, who happened to be the lover of three separate government figures, all of different genders, all filthy rich. And me, a humble sysadmin with a dash of organization skills and arrogance to spare.

-Esteemed guests, - I said, and paused to clear my throat, - you all know why we are here. Now allow me to explain to you exactly what we will do.

 step 5: create a timeline

-This is flippin’ insane, Ersh. – Wilhelmia exclaimed, glaring, and I was forced to shush at her.

-Quiet. – I reminded, and she swallowed hard, remembering that anyone in the building was at liberty to overhear us.

The upcoming revolution was now two days old. On the surface, we continued to lead normal lives, working, complaining, gossiping, and counting the minutes to the end of the shift. In truth, we were right in the middle of action. Meeting all over the city – in undiscovered pubs and inns, in unguarded computer cellars, on the rooftops of nuclear boilers, and in the dead-ends of dark alleyways. We communicated over quantum radio and made sure to burn all of our transmissions after every call. We were brave, and vigilant, and determined, above all else, to bring this to a close as soon as possible.

-But that is too fast. – Wilhelmia insisted in a hoarse whisper. – You don’t seriously believe that this will be over before the Yule ends, do you?

-Indeed, I do. – I replied, and had the displeasure of being poked in the ribs. – What’s more, it is the only way to accomplish what we set out to do.

-How so? – She questioned.

-Conspiracies are short-lived. – I elaborated, and shifted in my tight, deeply uncomfortable sit.

The server ventilation shaft was far from a pleasant place to be inside of.

-The longer it goes on, the more likely it is to fall apart. Especially as we begin to bring more people into it.

-But ten days, Ersh! – Wilhelmia repeated. – How would that ever work?

-Simply and elegantly. – I smiled. – Remember, my friend – I am brilliant under tight deadlines, especially when said deadlines are self-inflicted.

Wilhelmia chose not to argue with me – for she knew, deep down, that I was right.

 step 6: adjust your plan accordingly

I did not get a wink of sleep on the fifth night of the revolution. The visions of failure haunted me like vicious yet intangible ghosts, and I tossed and turned in bed until the second moon grazed the sky. Giving up on sleep altogether, I got up, mixed up a glass of dehydrated water, and turned on the radio. I expected to be lulled back into calm by its soft, crackling static – but instead, I had my anxieties validated.

-Thank heavens, Erasmus. – The voice of Josiah erupted from the speaker. – I’ve been trying to reach you for hours!

-What is it? – I asked, and slumped down to the floor, my head dizzy all of a sudden.

-It isn’t working. – Josiah confessed, and I could practically taste his desperation. – Not a tad. He is listening to me, but he doesn’t believe me in the slightest, I fear.

-Okay. – I said, though I was as far from okay as one could be. – It’s fine. – It was not, in fact, fine. – Roadblocks happen. Let’s talk. We’ll think of something, I am sure.

And, unlikely as it was, we did.

 step 7: be flexible

The sixth day flew by so fast; I hardly noticed the night arriving. Eleven pm, and I found myself on the top floor back row of a double-decker, moving smoothly on its set path, the electric engine buzzing and murmuring somewhere far below. Outside, the snow was replaced by a thick fog, with neither of the moons in sight. The bus was almost empty and deathly quiet. I sighed, turned to my left, and met eyes with Matthew.

-How many in total? – I inquired, my voice down, still aware of the potential danger of being overheard.

-Forty-seven. – He informed, and the hint of a smile touched his lips. – Which makes it almost a third of the entire government.

-Not enough. – I shook my head, unsatisfied.

-Not enough? – He pouted.

-Time is not in abundance. – I said, and he looked away, avoiding my gaze. – We need to accelerate. Do you agree?

He sighed, but nodded.

-Good. – I glanced sideways, and drew a spiral on the mist-covered window. – You know what to do, Matthew.

-Yeah. – He said, smirking. – Unleash them memes.

 step 8: communicate with your team

All of us gathered together again on the afternoon of the seventh day, in a tacky, brightly lit and empty tea room. The forecasts mongered another thunderstorm, and the atmosphere was heavy still, but, somehow, it did not bother me in the slightest. I smiled as the maid droid placed a tray in front of me, and the smell of cinnamon and lemon zest reached my nose.

-We’re on the right track. – I proclaimed confidently, and took my acai rice pudding bowl and a steaming hot cup of Earl Gay off the tray. – Cheers.

-Cheers. – The team echoed, and we clanked our china cups together.

We spent the hour discussing the current affairs, congratulating each other, chatting, laughing, and feeling oddly optimistic about the whole endeavor. My step was light as I was leaving the tea room. We had a few challenges ahead, sure – but, overall, everything was going according to plan.

 step 9: address any problems before they occur

Then the eighth day arrived, and, all of a sudden, nothing was going according to plan. News rushed in through the radio one by one; they piled all on top of each other, and right as I was leaving the server maintenance room to enjoy my well-deserved Roomas break. I felt drops of sweat form on my neck and roll down my spine as I scrolled through the message feed of my wristwatch. Nothing terrible has happened so far, I admitted – but it could. So shaky. So many opportunities for it all to go to hell – and in rapid succession. Three seconds later, and I was overtaken by fierce, unwavering panic.

It must have been twenty years at least of sitting in the memory cube closet, hugging myself and trying desperately to remember how one was supposed to breathe, when someone knocked on the door. The first aid droid, I realized.

-I have detected alarmingly high levels of adrenaline and cortisol. – The droid’s voice sounded even sillier than usual, obstructed by the door. – Would the gentlemen like some treatment? I can offer morphine drops or deep brain stimulation.

-No. – I yelled back through the closed door. – No, thank you.

-Very well, sir. – The droid responded. – If you will need me, I’ll be at my re-charging station.

-Yes. Fine. Now leave me, please. – I groaned, and gently bumped my forehead against the wall.

I cannot tell you why, but somehow, that brief exchanged kicked some sense back into my mind. I let go of my shoulders, took a deep breath in, and told myself – “think”. Yes, the opportunities for disaster were plenty. Yes, we were on shaky ground now, even more so than before. Nevertheless, not all was lost. In fact, nothing was lost yet, I realized. You see, dearest reader, the benefit of having anxiety is that you can foresee potential problems and overcome them before they arise.

Fifteen minutes later, I had a solution for every single issue that could occur in the last phases of the plan. I thought about it further over my Roomas (with just a few drops of morphine), then found an excuse to leave the server buildings for a brief pause. Outside, it didn’t take me long to find a kid aimlessly wandering the streets.

-Any spare change, sir? – The kid asked, big blue eyes full of sadness. – I am all out of coins to buy Fortnight mods.

-Just your luck, your little rascal. – I smiled, and ruffled the kid’s curly hair. – I’ll give you a tenner – if you can bring this, - and I handed him a memory stick, - to lady Euphemia O’Malley. You will find her somewhere in the city center, most likely close to the town hall.

-Alright, sir. – The kid said, and snatched the memory stick out of my hand even before I transferred the payment. – I sure will try.

I nodded, said my farewells, and felt completely tranquil at once. Whether it was the effect of having dealt with the problems, or the morphine kicking in, I had no clue.

 step 10: learn to say ‘no’ and accept help

I took a break on the ninth day, knowing that the revolution was beyond my grasp at that point, and all I could do was step back and watch the dominos fall into place. I ended the shift early, and went to the ice rink up at Thatchley Square. It was full of preschoolers and noisy beyond tolerance, which prompted me to push my airpods deeper into my ears. I would take the majestic, sophisticated sounds of Ed Sheeran, Gwen Stefani, and other classics over the offensive modern chaos they played in public places any day.

Half an hour of skating back and forth across the artificial crystalline surface, and my muscles were starting to betray me. I sighed and leaned against the nearest wall to rub my aching thighs and ankles. Alas, I had not been built for physical labor. I was about to leave the rink, when something – no, someone – rammed into me at subhuman speed, making me cry out in shock and stumble backwards into the snow.

-Oh lord, - the someone exclaimed, - I am so sorry!

And I mumbled something incomprehensible in response, for there, in front of me, covered in snow and helping me get up from the ground was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Tall, lean and bright-eyes, she had bubblegum pink hair and a pierced nose and a tattoo of a rose on her neck. And she was staring at me… goodness me, she was staring at me as if she knew me.

-Erasmus Smith? – She asked, frowning, and my face lost all colour.

-Shush. – I said, immediately on guard. – Come to the dressing room with me.

We sat there, talking and drinking those awful food machine concoctions out of cellulose plastic cups, and she told me everything she knew about the revolution, and how she came to know of it. It brought me concern at first, but soon enough it left my mind, for I was told that she had no intention of upsetting our plans. And what’s more, she even wanted to join in – and take it up a notch.

-Out of the question. – I responded immediately, once she had laid out her scheme for crashing the entire political system. – We are not risking the original plan on a dare.

-But… - She protested.

-No. – I shook my head. – We’re sticking to our goals.

-Oh well. – She sighed. – It was worth the shot. Say… can I help you out, at least?

I considered it for a moment, then gave her a singular nod. It made her eyes glow with excitement and pride. Such a stunning smile she had…

-I have a different proposition for you, though. – I found myself saying. – What do you think about going to the holographic theater next week? With me.

-Oh. – She looked away, and a soft shade of blush touched her cheeks. – I’d be honored.

And thus, the exchange was not all in vain.

 step 11: write tomorrow’s task today

On the dusk of the tenth day, all – now as many as fifteen – of us gathered together by the docks, next to the roaring powerplant, where the moons were shining, making the freshly fallen snow glow and sparkle. We drank warm beer, talked, and watched the dodo birds and the pterodactyls play and chase each other on the canal slopes.

-All set to run. – Arabella concluded, after we revised every minute step over and over again. – Shall we?

I paused, took in a full lung’s worth of fresh cold air, and said yes.

We followed the first sparks of the fire on social media, observed as politician after journalist after king’s man turned all against each other, throwing accusations, spilling dirt, and digging political graves for each other – and we thought it lit. I did not wish to stay there at the docks for the entire night, so I brought the meeting to a close.

-One last thing before we go. – I announced, just as the people were turning to leave. – Write down a tweet for me, people.

“All political parties on the planet have fallen apart. The entire government has resigned. King Edmund is stepping down from the throne to marry a commoner. Bitches, let’s party.” I finished, and every single one of us cheered.

 step 12: celebrate milestones and victories

And bitches did, indeed, party the next day – party day and night as the biggest scandal of the century shook the planet to its core. I do not recall where I was for most of the Yule Tide. All I know is that by midnight I ended up in the town hall, which was utterly wrecked and overflowing with people. I came to my senses sitting on the floor, wearing nothing but booty shorts and an undone tie, and smoking weed through a pipe. It was the most splendid party I had ever attended in my life.

-To the revolution! – I shouted it, and half a hundred people – most of whom I have never met in my life – joined in cheerfully.

-All hail Ersh, - Ambrose added, - for without him, this wouldn’t have happened.

-All hail Josiah, - Arabella interrupted, - for if he hadn’t sucked the king’s dick, this wouldn’t have happened either.

-Oh leave it. – Josiah dismissed. – I’ve always wanted to do that anyway.

-When are you gonna tell him? – I asked. – That you aren’t marrying him after all, I mean.

-Well. – He shrugged. – I think I might actually like… do that.

-Wouldn’t that be funny, - Euphemia said, - if Josiah became a prince.

-Anything is possible now. – Arabella pointed out.

-Yeah. – I agreed. – Anything’s possible.

And that’s when yet another crucial realization dawned upon me, and made me instantly sober.

I have accomplished my goal – no question about that. Brought down the government, destroyed the monarchy, did away with every major political party – all like I had imagined. But the more pressing question was – what are we going to do now?

 And here comes *step 13, dearest reader, which no one had the courtesy of warning me about. The step is to ask yourself: what in the name of holy fuck you are doing in the first place, and why.

I advise you to complete this step before all the subsequent ones, for it took me all but twelve days of the Yule to bring my entire planet into chaos, and more than twenty years to carry it out of it and back into order.

Which is why I always say to the young, overly ambitious people who seek my wisdom – before you fuck some shit up, you better come up with a plan of how you will unfuck it – or do not go fucking it up in the first place, my child.

 Signed, Erasmus Waynard Smith.

[acsversace-news]

Judith Light just picked up her third consecutive Emmy nomination, this time for her heartbreaking work as Marilyn Miglin on the FX limited series “The Assassination of Gianni Versace.” The actress now has four prime-time nominations in her career, including two for playing Shelly Pfefferman on “Transparent�� and another for guest starring on “Ugly Betty.”

Light recently chatted with Gold Derby contributing writer Tony Ruiz about filming “The Assassination of Gianni Versace” the day after last year’s Emmys, the importance of the series and how she feels about her life at this stage in her career. Watch the exclusive video chat above and read the complete interview transcript below.

Gold Derby: Judith Light, congratulations on your Emmy nomination. You played Marilyn Miglin in “The Assassination of Gianni Versace.” First of all, it would seem to me that you and Ryan Murphy working together would be kind of a no-brainer and yet this is the first time you two have worked together. How did this come to you?

Judith Light: First of all, thank you for the congratulations. I really appreciate it. I’m so honored. This is a kind of television spectrum that there are so many people in and I’m so honored to be nominated with all of these incredible artists, so it’s very special for me this year. I did a play in New York on Broadway called “Other Desert Cities” and it was written by this extraordinary writer, Jon Robin Baitz, and it was directed by this other extraordinary person, Joe Mantello. Robbie wrote to me, I think it was on a Friday night, he said, “Just so you know, I’m working with these amazing people, Ryan Murphy, Brad Simpson, Nina Jacobson, and their team is amazing and I want you to know them. I think a script may be coming to you.” And I was like, “Okay.” And he said, essentially, “I think you should do it.” And I was like, “Okay, I’m gonna listen to everything you say.” And I said, “My schedule in September is crazy,” ‘cause that’s when they were shooting it. The script did indeed come and it was indeed extraordinary and Tom Rob Smith is a wordsmith. Illustrious, I’d have to say, is the word that I would use to describe him and his writing. Then it all unfolded from there and the one thing that was really standing in the way that is the thing that I really love about this story, is that the schedule was completely full and the one thing that I had that I could not change was on the day that they needed me to be in Los Angeles to start doing the hair, the makeup and the wardrobe fittings. I said, “If anybody on the planet will understand this, it’s Ryan Murphy.” I had to be in Washington to open the AIDS conference for the Elizabeth Taylor AIDS Foundation, and I said, “I said I would be there. I have to be there.” They said, “Of course. Just take the plane that night,” and I did, and then I did all the rest of the work the next day, but it took somebody like Ryan Murphy to really understand that. I’m sure other people would as well but I love that about him. That was very special for me.

GD: You get this script for “A Random Killing,” which was the third episode, and what do you look at first? Do you just look at your part? Do you read the whole script front to back? What is it you look for in your character?

JL: The whole script from front to back. I need to know what frame I’m working in. I need to know what the context is. I need to know how I fit into that, because this is not a solitary affair, working in our business. This is about teams, which is what I love about it so much, so I always look in a character for a character’s flaws, the things that pain them, the stuff that’s under the surface that you don’t see, that you have to really look for, and how to get into that. And I thought that what Tom Rob Smith did, and the specificity with which he related, that was the thing that really took me and pulled me into it. So there were things that are in the show that Gwyneth Horder-Payton, who was the director, who was amazing, there’s this one moment where Marilyn is clicking her nails on a countertop and that’s what you see. That indicates so much about the character. That was written in the stage directions. So that tells you the kind of character that you’re dealing with and how much the things that were happening with her were imploding inside of her. And there’s that one moment where she does explode and you see all the cracks happen. So the way that it was structured and created, those were the things that really drew me in. And I love Mike Farrell, and I think he is remarkable to work with, so there was also that piece of it.

GD: One of the things that struck me was the relationship between you and Mike Farrell, who plays your husband, Lee. You only have one episode to convey this deep relationship and marriage and really just a few scenes between Lee and Marilyn. What did you two talk about to build that relationship, or was it just a natural chemistry between the two of you?

JL: There was a real naturalness to the whole endeavor. We had to practice dancing together and so when you do something like that, all of a sudden things come together because you’re doing something physically together and you’re in your body. You’re in your feeling. You’re in your emotion, so I think that really helped and there’s this one moment where I’m introducing him where he’s getting this honor, and it was just very natural the way we were working together so there wasn’t anything that was spoken or structured. We just knew that we were simpatico on a lot of levels.

GD: As an actor, is it more difficult to play a real person or does that even enter your mind at all?

JL: That’s a really good question. It’s difficult to play a real person, because you don’t want to caricature anyone, and that’s why I didn’t look at anything that Marilyn had been involved in. I know she’s been on home shopping networks and QVC and stuff like that, but I really wanted to stay away from all of that, because of the story and the painful nature of the story. I really felt that I wanted to be deferential to her and this great loss of this great love of her life, and to do it justice and to also be responsible and to not create a caricature is always a challenge.

GD: The episode, “A Random Killing,” is sort of bookended by these scenes of you really looking directly into the camera, starting with that first scene where Lee’s body is discovered and you just say, “I knew it.” So when you’re playing a scene like that, do you have an intention of what you want the audience to take from it or do you like it to be a bit more ambivalent for the audience?

JL: Again, I go back to the, “I’m playing a real person.” In a way that Gwyneth directed me was to not give anything away, is to allow you as the audience to really take what you believe she is saying from that. There are a lot of things that led up to that that would lead you to believe that over time she knew what was happening, lived in denial, perhaps. We do have that scene on the stairs where Lee says to Marilyn, “Please don’t go.” And she says, “Why?” So she could have sense that she knew he was saying to her, “Something’s gonna happen, please don’t go.” So there are a lot of complications and layers, which is what I love, and what I think what great writing is and great storytelling.

GD: Correct me if I’m wrong, I read or heard this somewhere, but I heard that the scene where Marilyn finally breaks down and talks about her life with Lee and their marriage and his death, that you filmed that scene shortly after last year’s Emmys. Is that true?

JL: The next day.

GD: Really?

JL: The next morning. I had to get back to New York so I only had a couple of days to be here in L.A. after the Emmys, so the Emmys were on Sunday night. They just couldn’t schedule it any other way and sometimes you’re locked into things on locations, as people know, and you can’t change them. So yeah, that’s what we did. And I said, “Well maybe not early in the morning,” and I think maybe I had to get up at five. You just do what you have to do. I like to say that I like to live my life not doing what I want, but what I think works. When you do things that work for other people and yourself, it ends up working all the way around and so I just feel very strongly about that. I used to go through my life all the time saying, “I want this and I want that. Why don’t I have that?” I’ve been talking about this recently a lot because I’ve been thinking about it a lot. There’s nothing to get in life. It’s only what you give. Just keep giving. Just do that and all of a sudden, things happen in ways that are quite remarkable, like my getting nominated. I don’t think one ties to the other, necessarily, but there’s a way in which I think life, for me, works in a much more powerful, kinder, gentler way.

GD: When you look back at your career, one of the hallmarks of your career has been your ability to go back and forth between film to television to stage. What draws you to a character or to an experience?

JL: Do they speak to me in a way that I feel that I can do something with that character to be of service, to give an eyeball into this particular person’s life, this person’s psychological trappings? What draws them? What is important to them? And when I find that, then I feel that I can connect with that character and do something with that character. It’s not about a career move or what’s a good idea or any of that stuff. It’s about, how do I connect with that human being and can I translate that feeling, that emotion, the life of that person? Can I bring that to fruition so that people will be able to take it in? And it will be illuminating for them in some way just as I hope it will be illuminating for myself.

GD: It’s interesting too because one of the themes of this series is not just about this particular murder or this particular killer, but it’s really about the failure on the part of investigators, in part because these killings involved predominantly gay men. And you’ve been such an ally to the LGBTQ community for so many years. How do you think this series resonates in the political and social climate of 2018?

JL: I think it’s a history lesson. I think it’s a reminder that if we don’t pay attention to what has gone before, if we do not learn from our history we are doomed to repeat it. I would have to say, because I’ve been an advocate for the LGBTQ community for such a long time, that there is still a great deal of homophobia in this country and around the world. When you see something like this and you point at the things that you’re pointing at about this investigation and what happened, I think this is a culturally important moment and a culturally essential conversation to be having. That’s one of things that I really respect and admire about Ryan is he takes these stories to show exactly what happened and how, in fact, this story might have had a very different ending if we related differently as human beings, to other people, and who they are and the way they are and how they are in their lives, and if this young man had been nurtured, if he had walked into a world that held him with open arms and said, “It’s fine that you’re gay. We love everything about you,” this might’ve had a very different ending and this would’ve been a very different story. That’s the sorrow, to me, about this, and what is so important to me about showing this and putting it on television, and hail to FX and Fox for doing it, because it takes a lot to present this to the public, and the public, they came in droves to see this, and that’s what I think has been the tremendous success of this. 18 Emmy nominations tells you a lot, not just about the artistry but about the compelling nature of this story.

GD: We are currently in this era of limited series where you get to tell these types of stories. Is this a format that you’d like to revisit? Tell us what’s next for you.

JL: Well, I’m leaving in a few days and going back to New York to shoot a film, so there’s that, and I just came back from Atlanta. I finished shooting a recurring part on a series for Facebook Watch called “Queen America,” with Catherine Zeta-Jones. So there is that and then there will be a couple of other things that will be coming down the pipe that I can’t really talk about right now, but there are definitely other things and I’m doing a lot of readings of plays and looking to find my way back to doing something in the theater again. Finding my way to being of real service in the work that I do and in the life that I live. There are things that really matter to me about what’s happening in the LGBTQ community, particularly in the trans community right now. I think there’s such great work being done, of course the great work that we have done on “Transparent” and now that Ryan is doing on “Pose.” So those are the kinds of things that I’m looking at and seeing and how to use the art and the artists that I get to work with to actually tell stories that are powerful and impactful.

GD: Well Judith Light, congratulations again on the Emmy nomination and just a magnificent performance. Thank you so much and best of luck at the Emmys this year.

JL: Thank you, I’m really happy to talk to you. Take good care.

[shortend]

Comic Script Prompt: Overwatch Support Clinic

Good afternoon, Ladies and Gents. Usually I write little scripts for fan comics as a morning writing warm-up with no intention of ever getting them illustrated. I wanted to try something a little new and different today. The following is a ten page script I wrote based on Overwatch, which as you may know is a very fun online first-person-shooter with oodles of plot that for some reason is rarely if ever conveyed in the actual game itself (like Final Fantasy XV, but with gorillas.) If by some miracle some daring illustrator is willing to take up the challenge (which would imply that they found this post buried somewhere) they are more than welcome to follow along and use this script or any portion thereof in their own artistic endeavors free of charge provided that they credit me as the writer for my contribution, as is only fair. (EDIT: I wouldn’t mind being tagged or sent a link to the finished product either, considering I would never otherwise find your brilliance.) I would love to see as many takes on it as possible, so I would be grateful to those who are willing to share this script in order for it to be seen by artists far and wide. If you’re looking to get into comic book illustration, or are just bored and need something to mess around with before your own inspiration takes over and leads you to make your own art: this is as good a place as any to start. This goes to writers too. Do not be afraid to post fan scripts online. Everyone needs practice, and it could lead to exciting collaborations. Thank you. For those who are new to illustrating comics: the rules are simple. Read the script. Outline and illustrate based on how you feel the story is best told. The panel counts and even the descriptions of the panels are only suggestions. The writer’s job is to give you the story to tell. Therefore you are the story teller. It’s only polite to stick to the dialog as closely as possible, but most writers can’t even draw stick figures, so the layout of the actual comic falls to your expertise. Go get ‘em. PAGE ONE AND TWO (Two Panels)

Panel 1. Double page splash panel of the Overwatch results screen. A quick Google image search should give you all of the reference you need for the details. The four highest scoring characters of the match are listed from left to right: Zarya from the red team credited as “47 Damage Blocked, Lost Miserably” with six likes; Widowmaker from the blue team “Fired Grappling Hook at Open Air 36 Times” two likes; Bastion from the blue team “Camped For Three Days Without Getting Kicked” three likes; and finally our hero, Mercy from the blue team, with “1,427,946 Healing Done, 98% of damage taken, 78% Kill Participation, Held the Team Afloat” and zero likes.

MERCY (Caption): “It is a thankless job.”

Panel 2. Close up on Mercy's score card. She looks solemnly down from her profile picture at her lack of recognition.

MERCY (Cap.): “One of those things where, if you do it well”

MERCY (Cap.): “No one notices.”

PAGE THREE (Three Panels)

Panel 1. Exterior. Route 66. McCree runs towards the camera in panic as he's perused by enemy D.Va, Roadhog, and Reinherdt.

MERCY (Cap.): “And then of course...”

MCCREE: Ah needs healin'!

Panel 2. Mercy stands in the foreground ducked around a corner in a tunnel with an expression of grief on her face as McCree struggles in vain to hold off his attackers outside in the background.

MERCY (Cap.): “If my choices are to let someone die, or to die alongside them...”

MCCREE: Dadgumit! Heal me whiles ah'm still above snakes!

MERCY (Cap.): “There is only one real option.”

Panel 3.

Genji clutches the limp body of McCree in his arms as Solder 76 stands behind, looking over his shoulder at Mercy who stands in the background looking hurt.

MERCY (Cap.): “But nobody remembers that I can't protect anyone if I am dead.”

GENJI: How could you allow this to happen?

SOLDIER 76: What the hell's the matter with you?

MERCY (Cap.): “All they see is my failure to act.”

PAGE FOUR (Seven Panels)

Panel 1. Interior of Zenyatta's counseling office in Overwatch HQ. There are few decorations, and no material possessions. Maybe a nice potted plant in the corner. Mercy sits upright on a long couch, elbows on her knees in a closed posture. Zenyatta floats cross-legged across from her.

Panel 2. Close up on Zenyatta.

ZENYATTA: Do you find your career path rewarding?

Panel 3. Close up on Mercy looking down at the ground.

MERCY: No.

Panel 4. Same angle as she continues to stare downwards.

Panel 5. Same angle as Mercy puts her hands over her face.

Panel 6. Mercy looks up into the air, conflicted and anguished.

MERCY: Yes.

Panel 7. Same angle. Mercy hangs her head down in sorrow.

MERCY: I don't know.

PAGE FIVE (Five Panels)

Panel 1. Wide angle. Mercy sits on the couch with her arms wide. Zenyatta listens and rubs at his chin in consideration.

MERCY: I am very good at my job. We win consistently.

MERCY: That should be enough, should it not?

ZENYATTA: Excellence is it's own reward.

Panel 2. Low angle looking up at Zenyatta.

ZENYATTA: Let me ask you something else.

ZENYATTA: Do you find your career fulfilling?

Panel 3. Mercy looks a little confused. Didn't she just answer this question?

MERCY: “Fulfilling?”

MERCY: How do you mean?

Panel 4.

ZENYATTA: I find that rewards come from outside oneself.

ZENYATTA: A pat on the back. The Likes you receive at the conclusion of a match. A cookie at the end of the day.

ZENYATTA: I myself do not favor organic meals, but am told Winston's baking is transcendent.

Panel 5.

ZENYATTA: Fulfillment on the other hand comes from within.

ZENYATTA: Do you take pride in your craft, Angela?

PAGE SIX (Three Panels)

Panel 1.

MERCY: Yes, of course. As I have said: I am good at my job.

MERCY: There is nothing I would rather do.

ZENYATTA: Yet there is disquiet in your soul.

Panel 2. Full angle of Zenyatta.

ZENYATTA: I believe you when you say you find fulfillment in healing.

ZENYATTA: The art of healing is a noble endeavor, though the rewards are few.

ZENYATTA: Support characters like ourselves are inclined to focus on the suffering of others.

ZENYATTA: How quickly we forget that all life feels pain, including ourselves.

Panel 3. Close-up on Mercy looking thoughtful.

ZENYATTA (Off Panel): Do you find that there are those who make your “job” easier?

MERCY: Yes...

PAGE SEVEN (Five Panels)

Panel 1. Mercy kneels on the ground wounded behind a curved barrier. She looks up at Orisa with a smile. Orisa waves hello to Mercy.

MERCY (Cap.): “Barriers are a godsend. They give me opportunity to recover, and line of sight to those in need.”

Panel 2. High angle. Hanzo and Widowmaker stand in the foreground atop a building with their backs to the camera, opening fire on the enemies in the street below. Mercy flies towards the snipers and away from the chaos below. May as well have a friendly Pharah flying around nearby too.

MERCY (Cap.): “Snipers increase my mobility and give me a way out of a tight spot entirely.”

Panel 3. Interior of Zenyatta's office. Mercy rolls her eyes and gives a wry smile.

ZENYATTA: What of damage characters that keep opponents at bay and secure objectives?

MERCY: You mean the headaches? The ones who get all of the glory?

Panel 4. Mercy waves her hands frantically.

ZENYATTA: True. The merciful are quick to be overlooked in times of war.

MERCY: No... I... I didn't mean...!

Panel 5.

MERCY: I am not in it for the glory. I am not jealous.

MERCY: I only want everyone to survive and have fun, but...

ZENYATTA: But?

PAGE EIGHT (Four Panels)

Panel 1. Mercy looks down at her hands feeling ever so full of guilt over her own needs.

MERCY: …

Panel 2.

ZENYATTA: Angela... it is alright.

MERCY: I just...

Panel 3. Zenyatta tilts his head inquisitively. Even when counselors can see the problem, they seem to prefer their clients to say it out loud to themselves, and show remarkable patience in their ability to refrain from answering for you.

Panel 4. Whatever you deem to be as heartbreaking for the reader as possible: go for it. The realization and admittance of a problem can be heavy, and the audience needs to feel that from Mercy.

MERCY: I want to be recognized.

PAGE NINE (Five Panels)

Panel 1.

ZENYATTA: It is not against the rules to ask for support from even those whom you are sworn to protect.

ZENYATTA: It does not matter if it is a barrier, a biotic grenade, or a kind word.

ZENYATTA: You need only ask.

Panel 2. Mercy looks surprised to find that time has flown by so quickly. Isn't that always the case?

ZENYATTA: I am afraid today's session must conclude.

MERCY: Already?

ZENYATTA: Time is an illusion, but the illusion is about to run out.

Panel 3. Zenyatta and Mercy bow to one-another in the middle of the room.

ZENYATTA: Angela, I advise you to pay no mind to the results screen in the future.

ZENYATTA: Look instead to the actions of your allies in-game.

ZENYATTA: They would not protect you if they did not deem you worthy of protection.

Panel 4. Zenyatta shows Mercy to the door.

MERCY: What about the suicidal Genjis who complain when I don’t revive them from miles away?

ZENYATTA: Pain is an inevitability of life. As are salty scrubs.

Panel 5. Zenyatta holds open the door for Mercy, who exits, feeling like a little bit of a weight has lifted.

ZENYATTA: Peace be upon you, Sister.

MERCY: Thank you, Zenyatta...

PAGE TEN (One Panel)

Panel 1. Mercy walks through the waiting room where Reaper, Bastion, and Genji are all waiting outside for their respective appointments.

MERCY: I suppose we could all use a helping hand sometime.