#sloane murphy

BIO:

Born and raised in Cider Point, the youngest child of two.

In many ways, her older brother was the heir, and she was the spare. He was steady; brilliant, and precise. She, in turn, was loud and dramatic. He’s a lawyer now, in Boston. They’re still quite close.

Theatre was her first love, and oh, how she loved it. She spent her childhood performing for anyone who would watch her. 

She loved her upbringing, but since she was young, she felt like she was meant for something bigger — like the town was never going to be enough to lift up her dreams.

Her parents, the owners of a flower shop in town, loved her loudly. They saw a spark in her and knew that she felt happiest on a stage. Much like some plants, she thrived in the light.

She grew up in a house, dotted with flowers outside. She quickly fell head over heels for her the boy who lived nextdoor. From the moment they met as kids, they became best friends. Something simply clicked, and Sloane’s love for him grew as they did. 

As time moved through, she sought out every opportunity to act, sing & dance. She was cast in everything, rising to be a bit of a star of the Cider High theatre department. She loved it, but it wasn’t built on ego. 

During this time, she and her neighbor started dating, naturally. It made sense, and their relationship was such a happy one. It was filled with school dances, trips to Boston, and milkshakes at the diner. 

Sloane had friends whom she loved, but the neighbor was her best. She believed he was her soulmate, as far as other people went. But there was a nagging voice in her head that told her that it wasn’t going to last. Not if she allowed herself the chance to chase her dreams.

He was the most supportive of that, because of course he was. He wasn’t going to let her stay for him, and she would have been miserable if she had. But as she sat on the plane, to her new life, she felt her heart break. This was her first love, but it wouldn’t be her last.

New York City chewed her up and spat her out within minutes. She was one of so many starry-eyed, small-town girls. She wanted so much, but she was just like the rest. Nothing made her special here.

She held too many jobs to stay afloat. Waitressed, worked as a barista, walked dogs, temped at offices, and tried being a cater-waiter at one point. Auditioned constantly— black box theatres, student films, commercials, anything. Booked some roles in small shows, but nothing really stuck.

Developed a love for storytelling beyond acting—kept journals full of dialogue, and people-watched wherever and whenever she could. 

In her first year, she went hard into dating. She was not only grieving the end of her childhood love, but she also had dwindling funds. Dinners and drinks meant she was being fed. 

It was a few years of this. Of auditioning hard, to no avail. Of pounding the pavement, with nothing. Of dating creeps just to have a solid dinner.

And then one night, everything suddenly changed. She was temping at a gala, and she ran into Jefferson Mays, a prominent casting director. He was charming, and much, much older, but Sloane was starry-eyed, and he liked that about her.

She maybe thought he’d see potential in her… and that’s sort of what he promised, at first.

Really, he wanted to keep her. As arm candy. As someone to have in his glittery, gorgeous penthouse. Someone to stay. How was Sloane supposed to say no to that?

Through the two years of dating him, her sixth and seventh years in New York, respectively, she auditioned for less and less. She didn’t really have to work as hard, outside of acting, because she was taken care of. But as the time went on, the spark began to dull. 

And then he proposed. And everyone was concerned, because this was a man who was far older and this wasn’t his first marriage, and he had so much power in the very industry she loved. She said yes.

It was two more years of being engaged, and he promised an elaborate wedding. That never saw the light of day. 

Sloane caught him with some young Broadway dancer, and of course it hurt. Even falling out of love with him over time, she felt so stupid. Still. 

She left and took the ring and sold it immediately. She stashed the money and tried to make New York work for another year, but it felt empty. She was all but blacklisted, and she didn’t want to hustle anymore.

Packed her things and moved back to Cider Point, telling everyone it was “just for a few months.” It’s been nine.

Besides her parents, few people in town even know she was engaged. They know she tried and failed, and that was that. 

Moved in with Avani on Electric Avenue, happy to try and  heal with a friend by her side. 

She has enough barista experience from all of those odd jobs, so she now works at Coastal Coffees. Her regulars adore her. But she can’t shake the feeling that everyone is a bit disappointed in her outcome. She knows she is.

Started a podcast, almost as a joke, when she got back to town. “Spill The Beans” is a show about a barista who just moved back to a small town. It’s about Cider Point life, and all of the gossip that comes along with it, that comes along with starting over. She self-financed it with the money she got from the ring. THe podcast has blown up.

A little impulsive, a little nostalgic, a little lost. Craves purpose and meaning but is slowly learning to find it in small, quiet moments.

Headcanons:

Sings showtunes while doing dishes. Loudly, dramatically, as if she’s back onstage.

Uses way too many exclamation points in her texts.

Has a bad habit of leaving half-empty coffee cups all over her house. One in the bathroom, one on the windowsill, one in the car.

When she was in New York, she bought a bright blue Mini Cooper that she affectionately named Blueberry. She loves it.

Talks to herself constantly: rehearsing lines, podcast intros, imaginary arguments, fake acceptance speeches.

She keeps polaroids everywhere: taped to mirrors, tucked into books, stuffed into drawers.

Her laughter always makes people look up: it’s bright, a little too loud, and completely genuine.

Has old relics of her relationship with Javi in a shoebox underneath her bed. Will not part with it, no matter what.

Always writes “xo Slo” at the end of her to-do lists, like she’s signing off a letter to herself.

Flirts accidentally. She’s just warm and interested in people, and sometimes that reads the wrong way.

Romanticizes everything — even her own sadness. She’ll cry in her car and then think, at least this will make a good podcast episode.

Constantly buys herself flowers - a quirk she picked up from her parents. 

She never uses names on the podcast, but everyone in Cider Point knows who she’s talking about.