Charles: I’m hilarious. For example: How do you make a sausage roll? Toss it down a hill.
Cecily: There’d better be pastry at the bottom of that fucking hill.
Writing
Two friends, on fans.
Cecily: You have an increasing fanbase. People enjoy Charles’ romantic cynicism.
Charles: I’m blushing… If that was the sort of thing I’d do…which as you know, I don’t.
Two friends, on writing.
Cecily: I write contemporary, condensed, flash autobiography.
Jean-Claude: You mean you’re on Twitter.
Cecily, on literary devices.
Cecily: I have created whole characters out of hyperbolic metaphor, and written of kaleidoscopes of butterflies without the need for any metaphor at all.
Two creatives, on writing.
Xavier: I’m writing a play and I don’t like it yet.
Cecily: I’m writing a life, and I’m starting to dread the next plot twist.
Sisters, on celebrity.
Cecily: You’re building quite a fan base.
Delilah: Excellent. Wait. What? Amongst who? Satanists?
Cecily: Everyone. Your darkness is a lovely foil to Cecily’s sparkling naïveté.
Delilah: Wonderful. But how do you know?
Cecily: People write me and tell me.
Delilah: Interesting. I guess without this face, the darkness becomes a lot easier to accept. How are they regarding Alexander?
Cecily: They’re either Team Cecily or Team Alexander.
Delilah: I never expected your writing to get ‘teamed’.
Cecily: I am polarizing.
Delilah: Yes. But I assumed fans of your prose would deride any hint of group identification.
Delilah, on Wilmot.
Delilah: Women love John Wilmot. Trouble is, I am not a 17th century rake. I’m a tiny female something-o-path with no desire to charm women out of their drawers.
thedailymails 