As a foil for Carrie, the first thing Dean had to be was dead. And being dead, the next thing to find out was how, when, where he had died. I can't remember deciding that he should be from the nineties, but I think it was an early decision - it's a decade I remember well, I like nineties music and hate nineties fashion, and of course Mary Jo's memories of being Dean's age at the time would come in hugely useful. 

As for the way in which Dean died, suicide was always going to be the most interesting option dramatically. Murder would make the story into a crime or revenge drama, illness or accident didn't give the amount of dramatic scope I wanted for the length of the play. Making Dean suicidal meant that his journey would be an internal one, his battle would be with himself as well as with the characters and attitudes of the world he finds himself in. And of course, suicide is something that is frighteningly common in young men, and something we still don't talk about enough. At the time of writing, two young men who were in my year at school have committed suicide; I have met others of my age who have tried. Whilst I didn't want Dean's suicide to overshadow the rest of his character, it wasn't something that could be skirted around either. And with so many negative media depictions of the mentally ill, it seemed important that Dean would be the one character not to be a bit of an outcast - unlike the other three, he is generally easygoing, charismatic, the one we'd all want to have a pint with; but also the one who experienced despair so deep that he ended his own life.

The other side of Dean's story is his relationship with Jess - though this is arguably more life-changing for her than it is for him. This is where we see the man Dean was in happier times and, in true love story fashion, Jess becomes his main reason to keep living - or trying to live, as the case may be. When Giving up the Ghost was first workshopped in front of an audience in Glasgow, the question of whether Jess and Dean's love should triumph caused quite a debate - but you'll need to buy a ticket to find out if they get their happy ending. 

Carrie was the first character to take shape in Giving up the Ghost, and was definitely a direct response to a certain famous television psychic who regularly tours to the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall, where Claudette and I work as front of house staff. I shan't mention her name here, and unless you are as uncomfortably familiar with her work as we are, you probably won't recognise her, as we did reluctantly agree that Claudette should tone down her very accurate impression in performance as Carrie. Suffice to say, the psychic in question peddles a brand of emotional manipulation that seems to target the vulnerable and make assumptions about their loved ones which - if believed - would change the way they were remembered. One particularly unpleasant 'reading' which sticks in my mind involved the psychic advising grieving parents that the roots of their son's suicide lay in a struggle with his sexuality - something which the parents admitted had never crossed their minds previously.  

It seemed then that Carrie would be a fairly despicable character, although what really attracted me to writing her was the potential for humour in her incompetence - the opening scene of Giving up the Ghost is all about this. The character of Dean was initially envisaged as a way to mock Carrie further, the ultimate irony for an utter fraud being to have their lies come true. But as the two characters began to talk, Carrie developed into a deeper character than the callous and calculating mercenary who stood on a stage and lied to desperate people. As soon as I introduced Mary and concluded that they were sisters, Carrie's whole back story materialised. Both Carrie's and Mary's views are extreme and potentially alienating to the average audience member - but as intense reactions to a childhood trauma, they become both more understandable and more compelling. 

Entirely unintentionally, mothers and our relationships with them are a major theme in Giving up the Ghost, so the fact that Claudette will be six months pregnant when we perform at the Fringe only adds new layers to Carrie's character - you might almost imagine it was intentional.