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I know what you’re thinking. “A memoir? Really?” To be completely honest, I didn’t want to write this book. When my agent first contacted me with the idea, I shut it down immediately, and another four times after that. Who would want to read about my life? I’m only in my late thirties, far too young for a memoir! However, she persisted, and after several long wine-fueled conversations, I decided that I would, in fact, write a memoir. Certain names have been withheld or changed at the request of my attorneys. My story thus far isn’t particularly long, but it was eventful to say the least. I suppose the only way to start properly is from the very beginning.
I was born in November of 1981 to my loving and devoted parents, Ned and Catelyn Stark. I was their first daughter, and received the ultimate princess treatment. Everything I wore, slept on, or played with, was pink. I grew up in a home that would eventually contain Arya, my younger sister, and my four brothers, Robb, Jon, Bran, and Rickon. The six of us got along as well as could be expected in a house full of rowdy siblings. The boys kept to their own little group for the most part, leaving Arya and I to ourselves. Arya often teased me by putting bugs in my hair or sticking a toad down my shirt when I wasn’t looking. She was different from me from the very start. She wore pants, never dresses, and she didn’t care at all to be pretty or presentable in any way. At the time it frustrated me that she didn’t care at all about her appearance, but I rather admired that about her as I grew older.
My school years were miserable. I was teased for being a ginger, and for having freckles. In my early teens, I wore braces, which brought even more attention to my already awkward appearance. My legs grew before the rest of my body could catch up, so for a few years I was given the nickname “giraffe.” I worked hard at my studies and had good grades all the way until high school graduation. Arya didn’t do as well in her classes, but she excelled at every sport imaginable, earning her several full college scholarships to choose from. By the time I reached my Senior year of high school, my body had filled out more, my braces were off, and I had started experimenting with different makeup looks. I still received loads of attention, but it was mostly from boys, and they weren’t teasing me anymore. They asked me on dates, or to school dances, but I turned down each and every last one of them. By then I had achieved success in the pageantry circuit, and between that and studying for school, there just wasn’t any time left that I wanted to devote to boys who had been so mean to me for no reason.
By winter of my senior year, I had won enough pageants to earn the title, “The Darling of Winterfell.” I appeared in several newspaper advertisements, a few local TV commercials, and I was invited to cut the ribbon at several grand openings. People would stop me as I walked down the street and ask for a picture together. My town was very proud of me, so much so that they had my name printed on a brick and added to a walkway in the center of the town square. I squealed with delight the first time I saw it, and took a few photos so that I could see it whenever I wanted. Doing well in school was nice, but the fame and recognition that came from being a beauty queen was out-of-this-world fantastic. I had fans, and the truth was, I wanted more.
It was at one of the beauty pageants that I met the girl who would become one of my closest friends, Margaery Tyrell. She and I were the same age, and both were told that we had a “classic” and “pure” look about us, although her gowns tended to be a bit more revealing than mine, especially when it came to how the necklines were cut. She and I would trade hair and makeup tips backstage, and when apart, we would sometimes talk on the phone for hours about boys, school, and the future. One night, we made a pact that when we both graduated from school, we would travel to the West coast together and try to make it as actresses in King’s Landing. We would fantasize at great length about starring in a film with huge well-known actors, making millions, and wearing the best gowns and jewelry that money could buy. Daydreaming about our fabulous future lives as stars became one of our favorite things to do. And months later, when we had both graduated, we did exactly what we had promised.
My mother and father were not pleased. They wanted me to go to college and get a degree in something, anything. The truth was, although I loved learning, I hated school. I didn’t like being herded from class to class like cattle. I didn’t like having to put up with bullies, and I didn’t like the jealous looks I received from some of the girls whenever I had won another pageant or they caught their boyfriends looking at me. So, I went ahead with my travel plans. Margaery picked me up in front of my parents’ house and we spent the next week driving across the country in her old mustang. All the while we ate greasy fast food and chatted about what actors we wanted to date, or whether we would bump into any celebrities at the gas station or the market. By the end of our drive, we started seeing large signs for King’s Landing.
My time there would spark a drive and determination in me that I didn’t know existed. I would have fame greater than anything I could have dreamed of. I would also have two life-altering relationships. One, with Mr. Gold, would teach me a painful lesson about taking care of myself. The other, with Mr. Black, would have me leave showbiz for a quiet existence with the love of my life. But, I’m getting ahead of myself. The first thing I needed to do as an inexperienced actress was find someone willing to give me a chance.