THEY CALL ME POTATO

YOU COULDN'T MAKE IT UP!

2012-01-20T17:36:00.001Z

Eu costumava saber Português, mas agora eu não conheço nenhum.

Hello, good evening, and welcome to another edition of YOU COULDN'T MAKE IT UP! I'm your host, Kumquat Salvation, here once again to regale you with tales of my recent exploits amongst society. Ladies and gentlemen, every word of what follows is true, except for the bits I made up. Prepare yourselves for fact so fantastical it renders most contemporary fiction as exciting as a wet banana. SHIT!

I often find myself knee-deep in every aspect of class, be it upper, middle, or lower-middle, whilst out on the street. In order to better acquaint myself with how ordinary people live their miserable lives, I like to mingle with the Great Unwashed on public transport. BALLS!

That's right, folks: tonight's edition looks at the humble bus, and the people who use it. Recently, as in yesterday, I happened to catch the number 4 service from Ashby High Street to the town centre, in Scunthorpe. Not a route I've travelled often before, but after yesterday's excitement I may well endeavour to make it a regular occurrence. BUM!

Once I'd safely ensconced myself upon a relatively comfortable seat, we were away. It was then an older gentleman, perhaps 65 years of age, sat himself behind a younger woman that he clearly knew. After exchanging genial pleasantries, he began to bombard her with the most slapdash trivia. To-wit: "Rizzle Kicks are number three in the charts right now," he said. His friend was clearly uninterested and replied "I can't say I really pay attention to that sort of thing." His next tack was to point out "You know me, I like to keep track of the strange, the bizarre, the grotesque." My own personal thought was "I don't believe Rizzle Kicks fall into any of those categories" but I kept my well-educated mouth shut. In any case, the man then asked his friend if she'd seen the film Antichrist. I for one wasn't at all surprised when she answered in the negative. Unfortunately for her, this answer served only to prompt the man to fill her brain with a torrent of specific information, such as the actors, the director, mention of certain themes explored within the film, and so forth. "It's the most depressing film I have ever seen," he concluded. You don't want to watch it, but you can't look away." I found his succinct review lacking in conviction, as the man clearly had no desire to look away whilst watching. One suspects he rather enjoyed the female flesh on show during the film's runtime. PISS!

At was at this point my attention was diverted by the arrival on the bus of a young woman. She was moderately attractive, but what caught my eye was her deformed claw-hand. It was little more than a large thumb and elongated finger. I stopped paying attention to HER when I realised the woman behind me was talking about rats in a supermarket's warehouse. However, I hadn't paid attention to the appearance of this particular woman and thus was surprised when she got off the bus, and it turned out to be a man with a woman's voice! COCK!

As I mentioned earlier, that was yesterday. Today's sojourn on public transport involved a different bus (the number 6) and a distinct surfeit of interesting individuals. However, there was a young gentleman who asked the bus driver "It all right if I get off here, mate?" Except the poor youngster neglected to realise that the bus had stopped in the middle of the road, at traffic lights. The driver politely informed him that he would have to wait until they reached the next stop, which was only around the corner. GUFF!

The last piece of news involving my time spent on a bus today features the same number (6) but a later journey - just this very eve, in fact. It also involves the return of a man whom I have had the displeasure of journeying with before (but only in the sense that he has been on the same bus as me). He is an old man, of a decidedly scruffy persuasion, and he stinks. Oh Lord, the man has a genuine stench about him. It is a powerful and potent smell, one that clearly affects other passengers as much as it affects me, though we are all too polite to mention it (I did, however, overhear some college-age girls remark that he smells of "poo" on a recent journey). I have been wondering exactly how I might describe his smell, because 'poo' is both far too crude, and indeed inaccurate. Initially, I would have called it a mixture of 'wet dog and disease', but tonight, with the man freshly damp from recent rainfall, the answer hit me as surely as his pungent aroma assaulted my nostrils. He smells like the inside of a pumpkin. COUGH!

And that, my friends, brings us to the end of tonight's episode. I do hope you'll join me again, when next we travel through the dregs of the population and experience things of which the only sane response is YOU COULDN'T MAKE IT UP!

WHAT!?

SSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

2012-01-16T12:37:00.003Z

Keep it down, will you? Some of us are trying to write. nb. This post contains lyrical waxing and personal statements, which some viewers may find offensively boring.*

First things first, for those out of the loop: A Glitch in the Continuum and Attack of the Fifty Foot Book are no more. Basically, a mixture of cold feet between the publisher and some authors have caused these anthologies to breathe their last. It's no one's fault, really. Just one of those things. And in working on 'this side of the fence' I've come to understand just how mercurial the small press can be. I'd like to be able to resurrect these anthos in the future (because I think they both had really cool concepts, if I do say so myself) but we'll have to wait and see. In any case, I hope to be able to edit/compile other anthologies, for whichever publisher, but this is something I'm going to concentrate on after I'm all sorted.

"Sorted"? Yes, I'm moving house! What?

Living the highly profitable* lifestyle of a published writer allows me to make my abode in such a place as a damp-riddled maisonette. Every morning, I get a breath of bracing cold air thanks to the highly effective* double-glazing, and feel the invigoration of the same cold temperature once I leave my bed thanks to the equally effective insulation. Sets me up for the day ahead!

But, I can't live in this sort of luxury forever, and so I'm moving, somewhere really downmarket. A semi-detached house, with central heating. How the mighty have fallen! Please, don't cry for my awful circumstances. I get to share them with my platonic wife. She likes to remind me that I need to finish washing her pots. It's a fun thing we do. She also likes to tell me how to pack boxes, because moving house repeatedly over the last few years has not given me this rare and useful life skill. None of these things in any way wind me up and kill any writing buzz I might have had.*

But seriously. I've been struggling to write lately, for these reasons, and because I hate the idea of starting a new story when I have a shitload of unfinished ones stuck on a broken USB stick. I have duplicates of some of these stories, but they're 'unedited' and I can't face re-doing all the changes because I intend to get the USB stick (hopefully) fixed. In the meantime, I'm trying to work on a few stories, including a pulp/horror/superhero piece that is currently stuck somewhere in the Fifties, but I might move to modern times, and a prequel story to yet another story that hasn't been published.

I do like to link a lot of my stories together - and was only really able to do this once I stopped writing things where everybody dies hahaha I'd like to think that, after I've been going for a few more years and picked up more of a readership, constant readers will start to notice references to other stories, or events, or maybe even the inclusion of previously-used characters. I know it's a little obvious to cite Stephen King as an influence, but when I was a teen I read his stuff religiously, a bit like how I am nowadays with Bentley Little. I thought his Dark Tower saga was so good I didn't want to finish reading it. So I stopped halfway through the last book. The way he weaves a multitude of his stories into that world is brilliant, and though I wouldn't want to do something on a similar scale, I do like the idea of there being this 'place' that incorporates elements/characters/what-have-you from existing realities/stories.

And on that non-ending, let's call it a night. Some of us have boxes to badly pack and other people's pots to wash.*

*not really

LAST MINUTE CALL FOR VOTES! PHOBOPHOBIA NEEDS YOU!

2012-01-09T17:15:00.000Z

I have been ridiculously out of the loop in recent weeks regarding many, many book-related things. Not least of which is that the latest Preditors and Editors Poll is upon us! If you (yes, YOU!) have a spare moment, please could you make the world a better place by going HERE and voting for Phobophobia? Through unsubstantiated research it has been shown that voting for Phobophobia in this way helps alleviate world hunger, and makes a cure for various terminal illnesses 0.5% more likely. Thank you.

2011 IS THE YEAR WHAT WAS THE YEAR WHAT WAS, BUT WHAT ABOUT 2012?

2012-01-04T11:56:00.001Z

And what a rollercoaster it was! Here's the year boiled down into handy statistics:

Dictators killed: 2
Locations discovered: 127
Pockets picked: 6
Pants exploded: 98
Enemies murdered: Millions
Books read: 26
Spells cast: 2
Hours rested: 2920
Children kidnapped: At least 4
Newspapers destroyed: 1
Bands disbanded: 15
Films watched: Hundreds
Pies eaten: 45
Lotions bought: 4
Bounty earned: £256

2012 looks like it's going to be even busier, with at least two apocalypses scheduled for later on in the year and whispers that JK Rowling has finally mastered the dark arts of necromancy in a bid to control the royal family. Jedward are set to team up with David Hasselhoff in order to release an album of covers so horrendous they can cause listeners to turn inside out, and Derren Brown's new show 'OBEY' promises to turn the entire UK into his army of mindless slaves. Film critic and arch writer Kim Newman reveals he's never liked cowboys, and in a stunning twist, gets put in the Celebrity Big Brother house with a cowboy. Musical nymph Pixie Lott has sex with a robot and conquers Finland, whilst giant lizards finally obliterate Tokyo in an event badly-dubbed by the Japanese prime minister as "Obvious, really."

Two little boys are found growing out of Rolf Harris, and a lawsuit is brought against Russian mafia spokesperson Téo Leoni for not actually being a Russian mafia spokesperson. After Hollywood remakes every film ever it self-combusts under the pressure of trying to come up with an original idea. Five minor wars break out like teenage acne in countries no one has ever heard of, but that doesn't stop various governments from pledging their support. The resultant military spending sends various national debts into figures so high they destroy the concept of mathematics. All goods and services in the EU can be bought by spending different amounts of time in prison, or by eliminating certain undesirables within the local community.

Microsoft unveils its new games console which is called, simply, the 'Box'. Games for it cost £100 brand new and aren't noticeably better than games for the previous console, although they do come with more Achievements. When Britain's prime minister realises how popular Achievements are, he implements a scheme in which people can gain goods and services by 'Achieving' certain targets and goals. The rest of the EU take note and pretend the previous method of obtaining goods and services never happened. Channel 4 reveals its new gameshow, which involves contestants guessing the answers to questions, but only after first pressing a buzzer. Prizes include money, and the chance to appear on telly. BBC 3 unleash twenty new comedies, each successively worse than the one before. Simon Callow guest stars in five of them.

And finally, in a light-hearted end to the year, Stephen King rewrites The Bible to include an African-American janitor with telepathy, a small boy with special needs, and the return of an ancient evil that dwells beneath a small Maine town. Critics call it "His greatest work."

AND I SHALL GREET FAME AND FORTUNE WITH A DEAD-EYED SMILE

2011-12-15T17:20:00.002Z

If you've stumbled across this blog because of the article in the Scunthorpe Telegraph (below) that's brilliant, but please for the love of God have a read of the previous post below this one, so you can see some decent pics of the signing and read an actual report of it. THFANXCKSZ! There's also a report of the event on the Dark Continents blog HERE.

If you're intrigued and not a little curious as to what 'horror and pulp fiction' I've had published, cast your eyeballs at the Buy my books! Read my stories! link over there --> I cannot be held responsible for any heart palpitations or feelings of intense giddiness caused by the stories.

Apart from working in an art gallery, I also help run an arts education collective called Tinpot - we're currently on the steering panel for the Scunthorpe Young People's Film Festival, and you can find out more HERE.

Lastly, some of you may have seen me reach the heady heights of local press coverage before thanks to my band Handsome Bastards (or 'Custards' as the Telegraph likes to call us). You can find out more about us HERE! We'll be playing at The Light on Thurs 22nd Dec, along with Dropdeads, Fallen Zero, and Tripdown Project. £3 on the door!

If you're ready to have your mind blown by all the other bits and bobs I do, have a wander about and fill your boots! FILL THEM!

DOUG BRADLEY WAS MY 9TH VICTIM

2011-12-12T13:11:00.001Z

And so Wayne Goodchild returned to Scunthorpe, as the worst possible climax to an excellent time away in London. Why was he in London? And by 'he' I mean 'I'. For the PHOBOPHOBIA book signing and launch, of course! What are you, one of the few people who haven't made a point of reading this blog on a regular basis? You're dead to me! But before you die of shame and guilt, let's find out how much fun Wayne Goodchild had! And by 'Wayne Goodchild' I mean 'I', again.

Piles upon piles of Phobophobia, just waiting to be scrawled in by eager hands.

Friday 9th December 2011 was the date, Forbidden Planet in London was the place! This was my very first book signing, and I was super nervous about it, but also really excited. Thankfully, the two feelings didn't mix and create a level of apathy, but co-existed like lovers who've become good friends.

I'd not been in London for a while, and the last time I'd been there I'd been pretty miserable, for one reason or another. Luckily, this time London was good to me and I ended up enjoying myself. This was in part due to my best chum (and former London native) Hayley McPhun (who also took all the pics in this post) meeting me and making sure we got where we needed to go, and also thanks to all the other authors who were really nice and welcoming. But who WERE the other authors, Wayne? Shut up, and I'll tell you! But first, let me tell you about how we dealt with a really friendly ticket guy at Kings Cross who told us I was the fourth reverend he'd met in an hour! There was a problem with our tickets, and when he called us back over he shouted "Reverend!". It was ACE. But anyway:

Dean M. Drinkel, G. R. Yeates, Jonathan Green, S. L. Schmitz, Barbie Wilde and Adrian Chamberlin were those other authors, with me caught in the middle like the world's strangest sandwich. Happy now? Yeah, thought you would be.

The floodgates open!

We were sequestered on the bottom floor with all the BOOKS. Good lord, so many books! There was even a section for 'Alternate History'. Amazing! Anyway, the signing started at 5pm and lasted about an hour and a half, in which time I got to sign 15 books! I'm afraid to admit I wasn't really sure what to write, as everyone had their own little messages or things to put alongside their name, but when I told a lady called Liz that she was the sixth person I had ever signed a book for (sorry Mum, but you don't count) Jon suggested I make that relate to what I signed, as it'd be cool to get to the point when I could know for a fact if a person was my 1000th - so I did! I started putting "You're my X victim!" with the X being whichever number. Later, at the book launch at the Mug House pub, I signed a few more books so now the next person I sign anything for will be my 22nd victim!

My chum Andy Peat turned up! I was suitably pleased.

It was all going great guns, and to be honest I was enjoying soaking up the atmosphere as much as being on a table with six professional authors, and then the evening went up a notch when DOUG BRADLEY turned up!

Here I am, trying not to wet myself with awestruck glee.

Barbie was in Hellraiser 2 as the female cenobite, so there's the link to Mr. Bradley (I couldn't call him Doug, it felt weird haha). He picked up a copy of Phobophobia and we all signed it for him! Incredible! I put 'It is an honour to make you my 9th victim!', which may well puzzle him for many years to come hahaha. I tried to inconspicuously mouth who he was to Hayley, as she doesn't like horror and didn't know who he was. When I managed to tell her, she passed on the info to my friend Andy as "He's that nail head guy". Brilliant.

I can't repeat enough how amazing the night was, and how much fun I had. At the risk of sounding corny and maybe pretentious, it was the first time I've ever felt like I truly belonged somewhere, but not in a tangible, easily describable way. It simply felt right. I have never been around, not only other authors, but members of the public who have a genuine interest in what I do.

Not snapped by Hayley, because she was too busy guarding my pint haha

The night ended in The Mug House pub on Tooley Street, and the only downer on the whole night was the discovery that London pubs have last orders before 11pm. Shocking. If I'd have known that I would have hit the booze like Oliver Reed. Or not, because I am a responsible adult ;) I got chatting to a few random writers and they were all really nice and friendly too. I repeat: I can never get bored of talking about my writing to complete strangers. Never.

SMUG.

Afterwards, me and Hayley wandered back to a little hotel/hostel on Caledonian Road called The Castle, that was much nicer than we expected, despite the fact you had to slam the door to make sure your room was locked. In the morning - after I lost sight of Hayley in Kings Cross station for a few terrifying minutes - we had time to wander around the Barbican and take it easy for a couple of hours, and it was just a really nice time (although I was surprised by just how grey the Barbican 'village' is). We ended up back in Scunthorpe late Saturday afternoon, and spent the rest of the weekend chilling out and trying to ignore how anti-climatic being back in Scunny is. I did wish I'd booked an extra night in London, or even a few nights, so as to have a proper time of it, but with any luck the Phobophobia signing was but the first of many, and hopefully it won't be 5 or 6 years before I'm next in the Big Smoke.

COMING SOON TO EYEBALLS NEAR YOU

2011-12-07T11:25:00.003Z

Here're the next few books I'm in/involved with, that're being sorted for release: Phobophobia's official launch is THIS FRIDAY (details here). No More Heroes is due for release any moment now, and Read the End First will probably be ready very early next year. I've also edited/compiled an anthology of time travel/alternate reality sci-fi called A Glitch in the Continuum which is coming out with Pill Hill Press, that should see the light of day before Christmas, but I'm waiting for the revised cover artwork to come through for that before I can properly pimp it.

DIG IN!

PHOBOPHOBIA

There is nothing to fear but fear itself...

Twenty six orginal tales of horror by established masters of terror and talented new voices lie within this Lexicon of Fear.

Beware the dark power of words in Bibliophobia... a carnival double act made in Hell can be found in the clown cemetery in Coulrophobia... an artist loses his power to create ice sculptures because of his fear of cold in Frigophobia... but that is the least of his problems as his therapist suffers the same phobia...

The fear of open spaces manifests itself in Kenophobia, a tale of the ultimate emptiness - the Great Void that awaits us all... the fear of beautiful women is fully justified in Venustrophobia, a tale of futile defence against the Succubus...

...but beware: the cure may be worse...

Denying yourself a place in Heaven is one way to avoid Jesusphobia, but the only alternative means Hell to pay... a playwright fights his fear of the colour yellow by creating an unusual addition to his Dramtis Personae in Xanthophobia... a Witchfinder's fear of open water will only be relieved by imbibing one of the two deathly fluids in Aquaphobia... and a widower follows the age-old advice of turning to face your fear in Qiqirn, only to uncover the true nature of an Inuit dog spirit that carries the essence of cold terror from it's ancient homeland into the realm of human grief...

Open the pages. It is time to learn your A to Dread...

AVAILABLE HERE!

NO MORE HEROES

On 20th November 2009, a catastrophic event dubbed THE CATACLYSM wiped the world's greatest heroes and villains off the face of the planet, and created a death toll stretching into the millions.

Though most of the world survived, it is now in the grip of super-villains who avoided The Cataclysm. It may not have been quite be the victory they expected, but it is the outcome they wanted: all the heroes are dead and the world is theirs.

Or so they believe...

AVAILABLE HERE!

READ THE END FIRST

Read the end First

24 Apocalyptic Tales

24 Time Zones

Ever wondered how the world would end if you could decide?
This anthology takes the concept of The Apocalypse a step further.

24 authors picked their own time zone to destroy. Each story is an original take on the apocalypse, seriously how fun would 24 stories about giant chinchillas eating us really be?

Each talented author is weaving an apocalyptic tale to leave you wondering what if the prophecies are right?

What date should we believe? I have no idea, all of them, perhaps none of them. The stories in this collection will make you wonder if it comes what happens, and will most definitely give you ideas that never occurred to you before.

AVAILABLE HERE!

OUTERSPACE AND INTO MY ARMS (OR: QUICK, SOMEONE NAIL DOWN THE MOON!)

2011-12-04T14:17:00.001Z

My name is Pretzel Chimney. You've never heard of me because I don't exist yet. No, I'm not a talking foetus or anything ridiculous. I'm a pottery-powered super-hero. As long as I'm holding pottery, I'm gifted with remarkable, and yes, incredible powers, the likes of which you might find in any comic book or even some form of instruction manual. I exist in the future but I'm sending this message back in time in the hope it'll help avert the diabolical tragedy that we haven't been able to avert in the future, which is right now for me, but in the future for you. I think it'd be best if I start at the beginning.

Millions of years in the future, counting the creation of the universe as the starting point, things are looking bad for our planet. Yes, that's right: EARTH. And things aren't looking too bright for it. Our planet, that is! Wars and famines and murders and taxes are rife, long-running chain stores are biting the big one, and politicians have given up kissing babies in public because the instant they do, the rival parties brand them paedophiles and get them lynched. This is not as easy as it sounds, getting politicians to stop kissing babies, because since 2018 babies have been genetically-modified to taste like candy, partly in an effort to maintain a 'new baby' smell, and also in a confused attempt to kill the phrase 'like taking candy from a baby'. Well, you can't do that now, fellas, because the baby IS the candy, and that's called kidnapping.

I work for an international justice cartel called The Unstoppable Inexorable Justice Anti-Crime Squad Group Club Team, which is comprised of various heroes from around the globe, and like all reputable law-enforcement organizations we're funded by the Mafia. We work cases and solve crimes and generally fuck bad guys right up, but unfailingly, our biggest and most dangerous problem is The Terror Gang of Terror Gang, led by the mysterious bastard named Guff Bandwagon. Seriously, he's a real bastard. Once, he entered the Sport's Day at a children's hospice, then won all the races. The UIJACSGCT cross swords with him and the TGOTG on a regular basis, so much so that we've had a public holiday named after us.

There was a brilliant but absolutely bananas scientist called George Armitage who, in 2019, invented a bomb that could give people super-powers. He called it the SUPER-BOMB! (the capitalisation and exclamation point are both his) and his plan was to detonate it over a random city, see what happens. So, he drops it out a plane and it goes off over New York, which by this time had slid a bit further down America due to extreme coastal erosion in Florida. The only trouble is, also by this point, everyone in New York already had super-powers, so he couldn't tell if his experiment had been a success or not. Plus, he'd had to use the prototype SUPER-BOMB! because he didn't have enough money to build more than one. So low were his funds, in fact, that he reportedly had to move back in with his parents. Suffice to say, shame followed George Armitage around like a particularly lusty tramp.

That last fact is only important if you think it is. I'll let you make your own mind up.

Oh yeah. Apparently it's unwise to reveal too much of the future to anyone in the past because it could have dire consequences upon the future. I'm sure you're also probably thinking 'Obviously we don't stop the diabolical tragedy already hinted at because otherwise Pretzel Chimney wouldn't have sent this note'.

To you I say: the tragedy hadn't been averted at the time I wrote this note because I hadn't sent the letter back for you to read yet. However, now you are and soon you'll put a plan into action that means, from the moment after I sent the letter back, my present – your future – everything is a-okay. So thanks for that.

Okay, now I've painted a picture of what is to come you need to pay even more attention to my words. Guff Bandwagon is aided and abetted by a vast consortium of diabolical evildoers, all possessed of insane powers and terrible manners. Chief among them is Panda Nazi, Guff's right-hand man and weapons expert. Some say he is the real brains behind the TGOTG, but others say the real brains is Mental Conundrum, perhaps the only member of the TGOTG who actually has an appearance and powers relevant to his name. Whoever's the real brains, they came up with a scheme to collide the moon into Earth. Yes, I know I took my time getting to the really important information, the bit that has an actual impact on my present, your future, but I like the sound of my own voice, especially when I'm writing it down for others to read.

So there you have it. I don't know how or why exactly the TGOTG want to do this, although TV pundits have stipulated it's because they're supervillains and that's the sort of ridiculous thing supervillains do. All I know is, if the moon hits Earth, it'll cause a level of destruction and horror not seen since Oprah Winfrey married Robert Downey Jr and had a baby with five heads and each head farted sandwiches. I'm telling you, the future is a crazy place. Oh crap, maybe I shouldn't have told you that, because you might decide it's not worth saving. Maybe you're really working for the TGOTG! Maybe, you don't give a shit. Well, you should! Give a shit, that is! Billions of people will die if you don't put a plan into action that'll inexplicably save the future. I actually came up with a plan, but in the interests of protecting the space/time continuum, I can't tell you it. Okay, so I can hint: you have to stop the moon hitting Earth.

Go now, and put something into action! If I can offer any other suggestions, I'll send another note through time and the internet, but mostly through time. And the internet. I understand that this may all sound a) implausible b) insane c) anti-climatic but that's the kind of world you're destined to live in ever since the Great Remake Eruption of 2021, in which movie studios failed spectacularly to create anything new, thereby instilling an inescapable malaise into the general population of Earth once they realised that they already knew how all films ended because they'd already seen all films.

Save us! Save the future! Make like an egg and get cracking! If it looks like you're taking too long to do anything, maybe because a new tweet has appeared on Twitter that you just have to read, or maybe because someone's posted a picture of a cat on Facebook (all things that are extinct in the future) I'll end this note with a SHOUTY BIT LIKE THIS!

DINNER DINNER DINNER BATMAN!

2011-11-30T00:14:00.001Z

I'm 32 years old and I still watch cartoons. Such a statement causes my family to tut and shake their heads, like I'm really that unwilling to grow up, but cartoons these days are a million miles away from a lot of the stuff that was around years ago. There have always been serious (or nearly serious) cartoons (one of my favourites is/was Ulysses 31) but the sheer abundance of modern cartoons that forsake goofy villains and talking animal sidekicks and feature some variation on the idea of a superhero fills my heart with giddy joy.

BEN 10 is a little goofy, but BEN 10: ULTIMATE ALIEN is both an interesting idea (the same characters but older) and more sensible/mature/a little brain-melting for kids (one episode sees the team meet a time-travelling professor, who's been stuck in time for literally forever. He remarks at one point how he "went insane, until that got boring and he went right back to being sane again"). MEGAS XLR provided a comedic slant on the giant fighting robot genre that hasn't seen much action since Voltron, and featured Bruce Campbell playing a MODOK-like alien called Magnanimous, who piloted a giant Elvis robot with a chainsaw hand. How many kids are going to get THAT?! GENERATOR REX is Guyver for kids. The reboot of HE-MAN kept Orko as a comedy character but stopped Cringor/Battle Cat talking, and melted Skeletor's face off in the pilot episode. The new THUNDERCATS has removed Snarf's ability to talk, knocked several years off the characters' ages, and kept them on their homeworld of Thundera, where they wage war against Mumm-Ra (still evil, still cool) and the 'evil' of technology/progress.

And then there's BATMAN.

The 1990s animated series was brilliant, primarily because it captured the tone so perfectly. Gotham was an art deco nightmare cloaked in perpetual night, where freaks robbed banks aided by goons wearing Halloween masks. There was violence, and fear, but filtered through a PG certificate (characters could fall from any height, as long as they landed in water; blood was very, very occasionally shown, though wounds typically weren't, etc). Batman was as much a part of the shadows as his enemies, but protected society instead of attacking it. There was lightness, sometimes, but the tone largely remained dark, and the show was all the better for it. The few spin-off movies took things slightly further (MASK OF THE PHANTASM remains not just one of my favourite animated films, but one of my favourite films full stop). PHANTASM saw not only a skull-masked assassin offing crime lords, but Batman duking it out with The Joker in a dilapidated World Fair, before knocking one of his teeth out with a splurt of blood. SUB-ZERO focused on the tragic origin of Mr Freeze, and showed that not all villains are the typical understanding of 'evil'.

BATMAN BEYOND saw a very old Bruce Wayne hand over the mantle of the bat to a young man called Terry, and featured various peeks at old/familiar characters, but in a 'alternate future' setting (for instance, The Joker is absent completely, Barbara Gordon isn't crippled and is the new Commissioner) that worked well, despite the focus to a different sort of Batman (one who was probably more like Nightwing than the typical Dark Knight).

In fact, a lot of the DC animated series have been very good, like the JUSTICE LEAGUE ones. Mainly, this is down to cartoons being able to show/do what feature films cannot, and also because there is a clear respect for the source material.

Which brings me, eventually, onto BATMAN: UNDER THE RED HOOD. The Red Hood was an original alter ego of the man who would become The Joker (a fact that's nicely dealt with in this film) but the current version is...someone very close to Batman. I thought already knowing who he is might spoil my enjoyment of the film, but in truth watching Batman figure it out was thoroughly enjoyable - two particular scenes stand out: one involves something Red Hood says to Batman, the other involves the 'reveal', and the off-screen reaction of Alfred.

But, for those not in the know: Black Mask (a crime lord with a burnt-on black skull for a face who appears to be channelling Tony Montana) runs Gotham's seedy underbelly. That is, until the gun-toting Red Hood appears and starts killing any of Black Mask's crew that refuse to swear allegiance to him instead. However, he isn't simply another maniac - he stipulates that if any drugs are sold to kids, he'll kill whoever sold them. A gangster with a heart of gold? Not quite. Try 'Batman with a skewered moral code'.

Everything, and I mean everything in RED HOOD is brilliant. The animation, score, character designs, pacing, dialogue...even the title sequence (which utilises live action) is great to watch. The only thing that caused me initial concern was the realisation that different people were voicing Batman and The Joker. Kevin Conroy and Mark Hamill are the voices of these two, to such an extent that they're incorporated in mediums removed from TV - namely, computer games (DC UNIVERSE ONLINE and ARKHAM ASYLUM/ARKHAM CITY). They haven't voiced every iteration of these characters, but it's safe to say they're the very definition of synonymous.

Bruce Greenwood (who's voiced some Marvel animated features) and John Dimaggio (Bender in Futurama) take on the roles of Batman and The Joker, and both are great. Greenwood nails Batman straight off the bat (arf arf!) but Dimaggio takes a little getting used to, his Joker being a little more gravelly than you'd expect. But, then he laughs and it all falls into place...Jensen Ackles (from SUPERNATURAL, one of my favourite shows) voices Red Hood, and a bunch of other top/familiar actors provide other vocal duties. Black Mask is the highlight of the film, for me, as he's a different kind of psychopath than The Joker; one who is prone to spontaneous outbursts of violence, but is collected enough to realise when he's being played for a fool. Usually.

Interestingly, one of the recurring themes is how two otherwise-savvy villains (Black Mask and Ra's Al Ghul) underestimate The Joker, the most notoriously mental of all Batman's foes. Both men think they can control him, but since The Joker is chaos, that's a futile hope and perhaps tells you more about their arrogance than even they realise (they're both men used to controlling everything, so to control The Joker would show everyone else just how powerful they are - ie if he's in their pocket, there really is no stopping them).

In a nice touch, Nightwing plays a major part in the story, and his quips and unconcealed awe at the skills demonstrated by Red Hood really help lighten what is otherwise a very dark story centring around grief, regret, remorse, all that fun stuff. There are also several wonderfully integrated flashback sequences, which see ghostly memories played out in front of Batman. One of these is especially, and surprisingly, poignant.

Batman is a character birthed from grief and death, and the events in RED HOOD force him to confront past memories and mistakes, and show that, infallible as he may appear, underneath the cowl he is only human. As much as I enjoy seeing superheroes endlessly wailing on bad guys, I much prefer to see them get a pasting every now and again - even if only on an emotional level - as a reminder that no one is safe from a lot of the things that affect 'normal' people, not even guys who wear their underpants outside their trousers.

BATMAN: UNDER THE RED HOOD TRAILER

I CAN'T TAKE MY EYES, OFF OF YYOOOUUUUUUUU

2011-11-17T17:40:00.002Z

Handsome Bastards got a proper nice little review in the local paper. We got through to the grand final of the 30th annual Rock Open, and got to play at the brand new Baths Hall venue. Bill Bailey played there the night before. I have been on the same stage as Bill Bailey.

"There was a palatable shiver of expectation from the assembled masses as Scunthorpe's own electro/ rock noise terrorists Handsome Custards took the stage.

"Owning the stage completely and making it their own, this is a band that you simple cannot take your eyes from." - Dan Gouldthorpe.

[They can't call us Bastards or they'll get complaints haha]

THEY CALL ME POTATO NOW CONTAINS A 27% GREATER CHANCE OF HURTING YOUR EYES

2011-11-10T16:52:00.001Z

Here's the cover for PHOBOPHOBIA!

You can see the full table of contents on the Dark Continents blog HERE!

This is the book for which there's an official signing and launch!

LONDON. FRIDAY 9TH DECEMBER. FORBIDDEN PLANET. SHAFTESBURY AVENUE. 5 - 7PM. SIGNING.

LONDON. FRIDAY 9TH DECEMBER. MUG HOUSE PUB. TOOLEY STREET. 7PM ONWARDS. LAUNCH.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH, NEBRASKAAAAAAAAAA!!!

2011-11-08T18:12:00.000Z

Pill Hill Press have agreed to take on ATTACK OF THE FIFTY FOOT BOOK and A GLITCH IN THE CONTINUUM. With any luck they'll be available in a month or so!

HOT DOG! JUMPING FROG! NEBRASKA!

I FEEL LIKE I ORDERED BEANS ON TOAST AND HAVE BEEN GIVEN A FULL ENGLISH

2011-11-07T13:23:00.000Z

An offer has been made and officially accepted on behalf of A GLITCH IN THE CONTINUUM and ATTACK OF THE FIFTY FOOT BOOK. Unfortunately (but not unexpectedly) a few authors have dropped out so I'm waiting to hear if either book is actually still viable.

HANDSOME BASTARDS are playing the 30th Annual Rock Open at the brand new Baths Hall in Scunthorpe this Saturday (12th). Bill Bailey's playing there the night before! We're asking anyone who has the means to record themselves if they want to be a part of our set - record yourself saying 'Handsome Bastards' (in any style/way you want) and send it to wayne[dot]goodchild[at]virgin[dot]net - we'll do the rest!

This week marks the second one of some film-making sessions I'm helping to run and organise. Along with a colleague from TINPOT, we're at a primary school, college and youth centre, looking at elements such as scriptwriting, storyboarding, and editing. The aim to to, where possible, help kids make films for the SCUNTHORPE YOUNG PEOPLE'S FILM FESTIVAL (for which Tinpot are also on the steering panel). It's been going for a few years now, so to be involved so heavily with it is very exciting. We're also going to run a (hopefully regular) FILM CLUB to garner further attention to the SYPFF (and some cool films - the first one is THE LOST BOYS).

Go here for FILM CLUB.

Go here for TINPOT.

Go here for SYPFF.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go punch crime in the face.

YET MORE SERIOUS NEWS. GOOD GRIEF!

2011-10-31T09:44:00.001Z

Been busy trying to wrangle a deal for the cancelled anthos, and I'm making some satisfying headway. I'll be contacting the affected authors about this very soon.

Cafe Doom's Seventh Annual Short Story Competition is now underway - if you entered, the stories are up and ready to read and vote on. You've got until the 14th of November!

I'm helping to organise/run workshops for a film festival, and apparently they start this week, which is news to me, so I'll probably be super busy with this too.

AARRGGHHH!!!!

BAD NEWS. GOOD NEWS. DEAD BOOKS.

2011-10-26T14:34:00.002+01:00

BAD NEWS: Glitch in the Continuum is CANCELLED. Attack of the Fifty Foot Book is CANCELLED. Through the Wormhole is CANCELLED.

GOOD NEWS: No More Heroes is being published.

I want to find other publishers for the three 'dead' books, so if anyone has any suggestions/can help in this regard, it'd be much appreciated.

WAYNE GOODCHILD IN SERIOUS NEWS SHOCKER! AGAIN!

2011-10-24T17:23:00.000+01:00

Twice in one day! Some people might call me a 'serious news' stud for that hit rate. But down to business:

Due to economic reasons, Twisted Library Press are putting a hold on all their anthologies for at least six months, and some will even be getting dropped. This is awful, terrible news, but not unavoidable nor unrealistic, really. You can read Doc Pus's announcement HERE.

I've currently got four anthologies with TLP waiting to see the light of day, so there's probably a good chance I'll be waving goodbye to some of my babies. Yes, I just called them 'babies'. Shut up! I feel like I'm on one side of a divorce and I'm waiting to see who gets the children.

I don't know which anthos are getting the ol' heave-ho yet, but as soon as I do I'll let all the relevant writers know. I've got a few stories waiting to see the light of day, but I'm more bothered about the anthos I've done because of the amount of people and effort involved with them (the art alone for Through The Wormhole is AMAZING and deserves to be seen on a book cover). But, I think a lot of people who've been following or involved with TLP (formerly Library of the Living Dead) knew, deep down, this day would come. Doc's pockets aren't bottomless pits, after all, and the sheer number of upcoming anthologies meant that critical mass would have to be reached sooner rather than later. It's sad, and gutting, but would be grotesquely unfair to start pointing fingers and bitching about it, as it's no one's fault save THE GOVERNMENT! Cue bad satire: oh wait, I can't be bothered.

If any of my anthos get the chop, I'd like to think I'd be able to 'shop' them around with other publishers, but I don't know if this is bad form or not, as it's all new to me. I'd publish them myself if I had the money, but I can't even afford to pay my latest electricity bill, nevermind churn out a run of books the size of bricks. Maybe if I won the lottery...maybe if I started playing the lottery first...

Anyway, any and all updates will appear on here, as well as my Facebook and Twitter feeds, but you're best off keeping an eye on the TLP forum.

I'm not crying, I've just got some rain on my face.

WAYNE GOODCHILD IN SERIOUS NEWS SHOCKER!

2011-10-24T09:41:00.000+01:00

In the not-too-distant future I'll be firing question bullets at author ROBERT HARKESS, in honour of a blog tour he's doing of...blogs. He's got a YA sci-fi novel to promote (called Aphrodite's Dawn) and I shall be asking him about this, as well as his other writing. I'll likely also ask him a few things that have got absolutely nothing to do with anything else, who knows? You'll find out...in the future! So keep your eyeballs peeled like onions on here and Rob's blog *HERE*.

GO ON THEN!

LET'S GET DRUNK AND FKKK EACH OTHER'S BRAINS OUT!

2011-10-23T19:18:00.000+01:00

Finally finished reading Bentley Little's DARK DOMINION, and I say 'finally' because it's 500 pages long and the first 300 or so are pretty boring. But then it goes utterly and completely mental and is worth the slog. But more on that in a minute.

Bentley Little is one of my favourite writers, but I fell out of love with him for a short while after reading THE ASSOCIATION and THE POLICY back-to-back...and realised that they were, basically, the same story. Now, a lot of writers (and film-makers, and artists etc etc etc) explore and use the same theme(s) over and over again, but it was quite startling just how similar these two books were (in terms of beats hit, rather than content) seeing as they both dealt with (and I'm boiling it down, here) an individual battling a corporation (ASSOCIATION has a man dealing with a, ahem, housing association and POLICY involves a man dealing with, ahem, an insurance company). Both very good, taken separately, mind you, but disappointing when read one after the other.

Still, they both did what Little does best and that is take the mundane and make it WEIRD with a capital W-E-I-R-D. ASSOCIATION does it with gradually warped 'rules' that the main character has to abide by within his gated community, and POLICY does it by having a character affected by the very thing they've just turned insurance down for (for example, someone declines earthquake cover, then the next thing they know, they're hit by an earthquake). DARK DOMINION (a terrible title matched only by the awful hazy cover painting of a girl in a vineyard, with grapes dripping blood) has very little (fnar fnar!) of this in the first three quarters of the book--there are hints and glimpses of people acting weird in a 'drunk and horny' way, but it's not until the last part of the book when things really kick off. Quick plot crunch:

Dion and his mum move to the Napa Valley to get a fresh start in life. Dion falls for Penelope, the daughter of the mysterious Daneam women, owners of a prestigious local vineyard. The two of them feel an attraction that might not be as random as they'd like to think, as it turns out both teenagers are linked with an ancient Greek god...

I was pleasantly surprised when the god makes an appearance, because it allows Little to cut loose with some absolutely demented situations and descriptions, most carnal in some way, although a few are just grotesque (including the transformation of people into animals). It's also at this point that all the boring build-up has a satisfying pay-off, including the 'removal' of some characters in delightfully mean-spirited ways (my favourite is when a character claims to have an amazing plan, then...but I won't spoil it).

DARK DOMINION (or simply DOMINION as it was later re-titled) isn't one of Little's best books (I'd peg THE ACADEMY as that, out of the ones I've read) but it is easy to read and original in execution. It also reminded me of a lot of pulpy 90's horror (it's from 1995) that I still have a penchant for, namely the work of Stephen Laws. Sometimes, I worry that reading too much of this sort of thing can have an adverse effect on my own writing (overuse of qualifiers, pleonasms, etc) in the same way I had to purposefully stop reading 1940's detective fiction for ages because I was using a lot of bad dialogue tags (such as "I like it," he smiled - you can't smile words!) that still occasionally creep into my stories...but then another part of me goes "Ah nuts to it, read what you enjoy and learn to write better."

The next two books on my reading list are the Rapture-as-Apocalypse LEFT BEHIND (lent to me by a work colleague who's a Born-Again Christian) and Aldous Huxley's BRAVE NEW WORLD (I thought it was about time I read some 'classic sci-fi' since I'm not a massive fan of sci-fi, and need educatin'). I've already read the first few chapters of LEFT BEHIND, and (cynically) admire how the main character is something of an agnostic, yet his wife is a (new) Christian...I only hope it doesn't ram God messages down my throat, because there's nothing worse than heavy-handed themes (religious or otherwise). I guess I'll find out soon enough.

HELP ME TO REMOVE MY SADNESS

2011-10-18T15:35:00.000+01:00

Hello, world! I recently lost a whole load of writing when my USB memory stick broke. There are companies who can, supposedly, recover data from broken memory sticks but the ones I've found are a bit pricey. But, I have to pay it to get my stuff back - there are a LOT of new and revised stories sitting on the stick, and it's depressing that I'm all hepped up and ready to work on a few of them, but can't. I was also going to start sending my novel THIS VILLAGE NEVER DREAMS back out, after re-editing it, but the first half of the new version is sat on the stick. Great stuff.

It's not all bad news, though. PHOBOPHOBIA (previously mentioned down the page) is the subject of a BOOK SIGNING at FORBIDDEN PLANET in LONDON! Friday 9th December. Full details to come! I'll be travelling down to London that afternoon, so hopefully I'll have time to pop by. Can't imagine many people will be asking me to sign their copies, though, because no one really knows who I am hahaha maybe I'll try and dress really important or something, or wear a top saying 'I'm Wayne Goodchild'.

AND TONIGHT'S SPECIAL GUEST STAR: MY HOUSEMATE! AND...ART!

2011-10-16T18:00:00.002+01:00

A few weeks ago, I visited Hepworth Gallery and Yorkshire Sculpture Park with a couple of chums, one of whom is ~~my housemate~~ a pillock. She's made a blog post about it, complete with some snazzy pics of the cool things we looked at and TOUCHED. If you like art, you'll LOVE her post! Here I am starting the latest craze to hit the UK, 'looking through art':

In fact, I should start plugging other people's blogs a bit more regularly - community spirit and all that. Maybe I'll do something naff like have 'this month's top blog is...' Yeah, maybe I'll do that. So well done Local Pillock, you're OCTOBER'S TOP BLOG! Three cheers etc etc etc. She also takes pics of all the cool stuff we nick out the bin behind a charity shop.

In other news, my band HANDSOME BASTARDS destroyed everyone's ears in an old church on Friday night. We will now be playing in the GRAND FINAL of a battle of the bands. It's being held in a rebuilt version of Scunthorpe's Baths Hall - somewhere that, once upon a time, used to be a cool and fun place to go and have a laugh. How it'll feel and look now a massive corporation have got their mitts on it remains to be seen.

Oh yeah, and I also did some writing and that.

LONDON BOOK LAUNCH!!! FOR A BOOK I'M IN!!! WITH SHIT-HOT WRITERS!!!

2011-10-05T20:59:00.000+01:00

Yes, it is quite something, isn't it? All the people listed below will be between the covers with me...in a book! Entitled PHOBOPHOBIAS, it's an alphabet of horror all about different phobias (mine's XANTHOPHOBIA! The fear of YELLOW! And is linked to the JONNY CAVE serial!). The launch for it will be @ the MUG HOUSE PUB, London Bridge on FRIDAY 9TH DECEMBER!!! Full details to follow, but I hope to see some of you chumps there!!!

Authors in the book:

Simon Kurt Unsworth, Adrian Chamberlin, Stephanie Tryda, Paul Kane, Sean Sweeney, Steven Savile, Kate Jonez, Dave Jeffery, Tracie McBride, Ian Woodhead, William Meikle, Rakie Bennet, Richard Salter, Marie O'Regan, Christopher L Beck, John Palisano, Greg James, John Irvine, DM Youngquist, John Prescott, Barbie Wilde, Serenity J Banks, Jonathan Green, Magen Toole and Dean M Drinkel (who's the evil genius behind it all)!!! AAAIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

CAFE DOOM'S SEVENTH ANNUAL WRITING COMP IS NOW GO!

2011-09-20T22:05:00.002+01:00

WRITERS! If you're not already aware of this, CAFE DOOM is running its annual comp - details here: http://www.cafedoom.com/forum/index.php?topic=4455.0 This is a top site, with some top prizes! GO ON THEN!

ABOUT TIME YOU SHOWED UP!

2011-09-19T14:50:00.000+01:00

Greetings, scumbags! I've been remarkably quiet on here as of late, and for that I apologise. Now shut up and read my words you bastards.

As as often the case with me, I tend to pile a lot of my energy into several creative ventures at once, causing one or two to slide into the background a bit. But, I guess it's not really at any sort of expense since the stuff I do focus on turns out effing awesome. This is the point where I plug my band again, and then ask you to consider supporting us by purchasing our CD. We're called Handsome Bastards and don't really sound like anyone else, and I feel confident in saying that because my musical taste is both impeccable and all-encompassing. You can pick up a copy of the TAKE ONE FOR THE TEAM ep here for A VERY SMALL AMOUNT OF MONEY. We use this money to fund orphanages in Africa. Fund them buying their cocaine, that is. What, you didn't know that's how those places operate? You haven't lived, my friend.

I've also been doing stuff with my arts education collective, Tinpot. Please take a moment to check out our Facebook page and 'like' us! If you don't, I'll know you secretly hate children.

And back to the business in hand, namely WRITING. I've got three main things to work on at the moment; a sort-of sci-fi script (which is being polished), a short story in which a very surreal and grotesque apocalypse comes to Scunthorpe (yes, I finally get a chance to decimate my hometown), and a short story about a sinister funfair.

The script is for a friend, that I may or may not be at liberty to discuss openly. I probably am, but I'd like to create some air of mystery.

The apocalypse story is for THIS BOOK which I was invited to write for. I'm always very honoured and thankful when this happens, and especially so when the other authors involved are reeeaaalllllly cool people *crawly crawly bum lick*.

The funfair story is for THIS SUBMISSION CALL. I don't think I've plugged Evil Jester Press yet, which is borderline criminal of me. It's run by Charles Day, a lovely chap I've met online (not like that, you perverts) who writes beguilingly innocent horror (I mean, in the style, not that it all ends up being a baddie in a monster mask like in Scooby Doo or anything). I'm chuffed to bits this venture's got off the ground running, and hope it continues. I certainly don't think it hurts having people like my editing chum Bill Tucker onboard to help compile anthos ;) Not that I'm assuming my story will be easily picked up for this particular anthology! Although I hope so, because it's already moving along at a cracking pace and has a very strange reason for the sinister stuff that happens. There's also a lot of real darkness involved (like the insinuation of rape, and the bleakness of living in a town that's inexorably dying from lack of jobs) that I think adds something extra to proceedings. I had success with a circus horror story already [ buy this to find out what it's like ;) ] so if lightning can strike twice in this particular sub-genre, I'll be pretty chuffed.

I think that's the main stuff for now. KEEP TUNED FOR MORE SEXCITING UPDATES????

SHUT UP, I'M BUSY!

2011-09-05T10:15:00.000+01:00

Keep them* peeled for NEWS! and UPDATES!

*your eyes, moron!

IN SPACE NO ONE CAN HEAR YOU EAT ICE CREAM

2011-08-22T11:30:00.000+01:00

A brief review of Alienology has appeared online --> HERE! and now, if you're one of those complete weirdoes who hate paper, you can get the antho as an 'e-book' --> HERE!

I'm going to try and use today to finish writing, or nearly finish, a short story called WOUNDS, which is all about a former mental patient who returns home with news that something rotten's lurking beneath the civilised veneer of the town - but is it? Or is he still deluded? Clue: he's not. I'm going for a Lovecraft vibe (what a surprise!) but I think I'm going to nail it with this one - lots of creepy instances that something isn't right, but hopefully no one will guess what until the end ;)

Well, I will do this ^ if my computer doesn't crash. Last night it told me 'A kernal thread terminated while holding a mutex'. I can safely say I've never heard that one before. Hmmm.

WAYNE GOODCHILD'S NOSTALGIA BOMB (AKA ARE ALL MEMORIES WORTH KEEPING?)

2011-08-21T20:29:00.005+01:00

That's possibly the most emo thing I've ever written, so apologies for that. But, are all memories worth keeping? I'm going to tell you what I think anyway, so shut up.

This afternoon I rediscovered my 'bag of memories' - literally a plastic bag filled with old stuff from my youth. That pic up there is a collage of some of it, but it also includes postcards, band adverts and a surprising amount of phone numbers; one for a friend who passed away a few years ago, some for people I still see regularly/not-too-irregularly, some for people I've fairly recently reconnected with via Facebook, and one for an older girl I saw for a short while called ******. This one's written in dark red lipstick on the back of a torn-off corner from a gig poster (all that remains on the front is a guitar-playing guy with mod hair dressed in an Indian-style gown, with 'PROBABLY THE 2nd GREATEST' underneath him. Underneath this is 'plus Special SPICE GIRLS' and a date: SATURDAY 2nd AUGUST). The number is labelled (by me) as her 'home' number; there's something weird about the fact that, not that long ago, no one had mobile phones, and when you were a teenager, you had to brave a call to your girlfriend's parents and ask to speak to her, rather than having the luxury of a direct line. Unless you set up some kind of "I'll call you at 6pm on the dot so make sure you're near the phone" situation so as to avoid talking to the oldies.

Here're the postcards:

When I was at college, and for a little while afterwards, we seemed to have house parties all the time. "The best years of your life" vary from person to person, and generation to generation, but in many respects my mid-to-late-teens were them for me (although I wouldn't necessarily want to relive them). That lass who wrote the first postcard - Katherine - I haven't seen for many years, but she was part of our cosy little group at college. A Christian who had a sense of humour, and didn't take my "Satanism" (don't ask) at all seriously, which is just the way I liked it. One of the house parties I remember the most was at Katherine's. I tried my first joint (rolled with cherry tobacco so I would like the taste), made an archaeopteryx out of beer bottles, and went to sleep in the (empty) bath, only to be woken up when my friend Paul (the same one mentioned in her missive) poured a sack of potatoes on me. The 'Kirsten' she mentions is one of the people I've reconnected with (sort of) via FB, but this raises a point I'll come back to in a minute.*

The 'Steve' and 'Andy' from the second postcard are guys I still see now and again. We all used to be in bands together, with such names as 'Exploding Toasters' and 'Baybehedd'. Here're some press clippings for bands I was in, from when we played the Scunthorpe Rock Open (a battle of the bands) many moons ago - Toxin were Steve's own band, and as you can see they weren't very popular with the judges - ouch!

That's the glorious inlay to the Unholy Cheese Fiends' debut tape (yes, tape!). We were a novelty (I mean, post-apocalyptic jazz) band that kept the joke going for two delirious years. You can even hear our music HERE, if you're some kind of maniac. I was the frontman ;)

*A minute later...Nowadays it's even easier to reconnect with old friends/colleagues/whathaveyou thanks to the internet and social networking sites, but for the majority of people the question remains: why? Most of the time what've you got to talk about, unless you were especially close to that person many moons ago? "What do you do for a living? Do you have any kids? Whatever happened to your plan to walk along the Great Wall of China?" The other truth is, people move on, their lives move on, and whilst many of us would like to think we don't really change that much as we get older, some people do, quite considerably. There's nothing inherently wrong with this fact, as certain people inevitably NEED to move on, and stop being a stoner/benefit sponge/dreamer/etc that may have suited their long-haired younger days but once the real world comes knocking you have to answer the door sooner of later. Wow, that was a naff sentence. Does anyone still say 'naff'? Apart from me, just then?

Anyways. As much as I like the idea of 'connecting' with people, there's usually very little reason to. For instance, if I can finally mention writing in a blog post on a blog run by a writer ;) I have met lots of really nice and supportive authors online, and they're all pretty interesting. But not interesting enough that I should want to read their blog on a regular basis. Why? Quite simply, because our paths cross elsewhere online, by and large I know what they've got cooking, so I don't feel the need to actively peruse their blog. I don't feel particularly 'guilty' or 'ignorant' about this because I'm sure this blog is overlooked or ignored more often than not for the same reasons, which is fine - plus I usually talk rubbish so there really isn't that much of intellectual interest to read hahaha unlike one of my absolute favourite blogs that I do take the time to read on a regular basis: BIG AMERICAN NIGHT. Almost every post has something interesting to say, plus there are nice pictures and cool music. You don't need this things to make a successful blog, of course, but they're what float my particular boat.

To go back to my previous point: why bother reconnecting with old friends? Because it's a nice thing to do. That is the real truth. Even if, like me, you don't feel cause to regularly ask them what they're doing, it's nice to know they're only a mouse-click away. Is this some sort of Freudian ego crutch? I don't know.

Why is all this playing on my mind so much? It's just a bag of stuff, surely...? Friends I don't see very often/any more, a girlfriend I lost through emotional ineptness, goth artwork and flyers for club nights that no longer exist. Is any of it worth keeping? Yes, because they're all memories. And you can't be selective about the good ones. You need the bad or bittersweet ones to balance you out, otherwise someone would have invented a time machine by now so we could all stop looking through rose-tinted specs and actually relive those halcyon days, over and over again. And the fights, the arguments, the hangovers, the parental bollockings, the stolen girlfriends and forbidden kisses. Oh yeah, those would be really nice to relive. Well, maybe the 'kiss-I-shouldn't-be-having'... ;)

Melancholy isn't really my thing, baby, but the Bag of Memories(tm) has jacked into my current passive maudlin state - I lost a cousin recently (she was younger than me - only thirty years old) and one of my other cousins, who's maybe 15 years older than me, said "if this is an excuse for anything, it's to make sure those of us remaining make a point about meeting up" or "reconnecting". True enough, a lot of my cousins etc live very close to me, but we simply don't talk. I have no doubt this is partly down to the age gap (they're all older, married, in 'normal' jobs) and partly because, once you've not spoken to someone in a while, it becomes far easier to continue that silence than to make the effort to clumsily break it and risk finding out that being distant may not have been such a bad thing after all. I don't necessarily believe that, but it is a legitimate fear. I suppose only time will tell. And that's something none of us have a lot of.

Whoops. This has been an exceptionally heavy, and long, post. Better inject some levity via two pics of me on theme park rides doing a militant hand gesture and flicking a V:

And something pertinent I got out a fortune cookie years ago:

IT'S ALL GONE DARK

2011-08-18T17:48:00.000+01:00

My pc keeps crashing, obliterating most of the work I do.

I forgot I have a script to write about mental illness.

Still waiting for a story payment.

Another story's publication has been delayed by a number of months.

Never got a delivery of books I'm in and ordered last year.

Tried playing Silent Hill: Homecoming on the 'Hard' difficulty. It was a little bit too hard.

I asked for two bookcases for my birthday. I got one. And it won't assemble properly.

People keep stealing my thunder for no reason other than they have time to kill.

I have not had a proper roast dinner for a few weeks.

One of my closest friends forgot it was my birthday.

I stopped watching an episode of Supernatural this afternoon because someone was coming round. They never showed up.

I don't think any of this is particularly important.

THE PIGS WILL GET YOU IN THE END

2011-08-10T09:30:00.000+01:00

Good golly! BACONOLOGY is now available! My story's called SISTERS OF BACON, is set in the 20's, and is about people turning into pigs. Every other story in the anthology is about bacon. WHAT MORE DO YOU NEED TO KNOW?

Get it now, or be condemned as a poncho-wearing vegan!

--> OINK OINK OINK OINK <--

I'VE BEEN RIPPED OFF. SORT OF. ALSO: HELLO, I'M STILL AWAKE!

2011-08-08T02:24:00.002+01:00

In trying to remember the names of people I've remixed, I used Google and found *THIS*

It's some sort of bizarre, badly-translated version of this blog.

Except, it sort of isn't. It appears to be a random amalgamation of every blog ever. Very strange indeed! A part of me wonders if that link might kickstart a blog feedback loop. If it doesn't, maybe *THIS WILL*

But enough of that, it's almost 2:30am. Time to hit the hay!

STICK THIS IN YOUR EARS, SUGARTITS!

2011-08-07T20:37:00.001+01:00

My soft-rockin', hard-lovin' band HANDSOME BASTARDS have recorded a wealth of sexy tracks which will be released in the form of two eps entitled TAKE ONE FOR THE TEAM and WINNING TIME! They'll be available soon, but for now, you can fill your head with our filth HERE and/or HERE!

GO ON THEN!

ANTS! ANTS! ANTS! ANTS! ANTS! ANTS! ANTS! ANTS! ANTS! ANTS! ANTS!

2011-08-02T12:26:00.000+01:00

I recently re-watched PHASE IV, an utterly strange sci-fi film from 1974 in which ants are bestowed superintelligence by cosmic rays (rather than the awful Dean Cain drug thriller with the same name). It is one of my favourite films for a number of reasons, least of all this mental premise. But more on that in a minute!

First things first, PHASE IV is no where near as hysterical and violent as that poster might suggest (although it is a cool poster). Rather, the film evokes dread more than outright terror, and fear more than horror. The movie opens with a voiceover from Lesko (played by Michael Murphy, who's been in a million things) musing about peculiar interstellar phenomena (shown via some stunning animation that looks a bit like it might have come from an old science-for-schools program but is still very pretty). No one's sure what this phenomena could mean, but one thing's for sure - its effect was completely unexpected.

It's affected ants, you see. And not just one type, but ALL species. Dr Ernest Hobbs (English actor Nigel Davenport), a scientist with a real mad-on for ants, cottons on to this and heads out to the Arizona desert to study the insects, accompanied by cryptozoologist and communications expert Lesko. Hobbs has noticed that ants have started working together to cleanse the area of their natural predators, and wants to find out why. It doesn't take too long before the insects make their intelligence known as they close-in on Hobbs and Lesko, who've set up a small dome in which to conduct their research.

PHASE IV is a relatively sparse film. For the most part, we're either confined to the claustrophobic interior of the research dome, or treated to the vast expanse of the surrounding desert. There is no real in-between, save for a brief visit to a small farm, and a deserted settlement (the appropriately 'abandoned-hope-and-failed-glories' named Paradise City) but that's about it for locations. There isn't too much dialogue, and what there is is to-the-point. It's also probably fair to say that the majority of the film's remarkably short runtime (less than and hour and half) is taken up by footage of the ants themselves, which is no bad thing.

These bits are brilliantly realised, and help alleviate any chance of laughing at the inherent absurdity of 'super ants' - there's something creepy about watching different species 'conversing' (and with tiny weird symbols on their heads!), not to mention shots of stuff like an ant dutifully making rows of its dead brethren in a large chamber (above). Extreme close-ups of the bloated and wasp-like (because she actually is a wasp, fact fans!) Queen make for uncomfortable and squirm-inducing viewing as she squeezes out yet another egg, to add to a rapidly expanding pile of newborn ants.

Saul Bass, Hitchcock's title designer, directs the 'human' parts with a good eye for weird visuals (plenty of solar eclipses and bug-eye vision) that are rendered surreal by their use, but what really sells this film for me, more than his direction or Ken Middleham's insect sequences, is the sound design. Electronic bleeps, bips and drones punctuate long stretches of ants wandering their subterranean hive, with a high-pitched chittering/shrieking/clacking noise soundtracking their attacks and time-lapse devouring of other creatures. I was reminded of one of my other favourite 70s films THE MUTATIONS (aka THE FREAKMAKER), in which copious use is made of time-lapse to show plants growing/dying, accompanied by weird, atmospheric electronic music. In that film, Donald Pleasance plays a scientist as unhinged as Hobbs, but one obsessed with creating human/plant hybrids. It's far more 'b-movie' than PHASE IV ends up being, but not to its detriment.

Once Hobbs is bitten, and poisoned, by an ant, he starts to unravel at an alarming rate, as his inherent obsession builds to fever pitch. He wants to utterly destroy the ants, whereas Lesko, acting with a rational mind, seeks to understand - and even communicate with - them. There are echoes of H. G. Wells' WAR OF THE WORLDS in how the scientists are themselves being studied by "intelligences greater than man's and yet as mortal as his own" and that these minds "slowly and surely drew their plans against us". This is the film's strongest theme, and is well-realised. PHASE IV is a bit like a chocolate-covered muesli bar, in that on the surface there's just the one thing to savour, but underneath there's more going on that demands some chewing over. That's not a bad comparison, given that I just thought of it cos I'm eating a chocolate-covered muesli bar.

Apart from the visuals, there are some very strong scenes in PHASE IV - and in one of the most chilling, it's primarily through a mixture of darkly humorous irony and human error that the only other featured characters meet their demise, as they stumble through thickening clouds of poison designed to kill the ants....who only return, stronger and more resilient than before. As for weak points, Davenport's portrayal of Hobb's burgeoning insanity is one of the only ones, as it edges over into the hysteria promised by the poster. Another weak aspect is Kendra, a survivor of a previous ant attack, who becomes little more than a plot device. However, having said that, her implication in the ants' plan is both chilling and weirdly optimistic - come the end of the film, humans may well still have a place on this planet, but not in the way we would hope.

WAYNE GOODCHILD GETS ALL ROMANTIC [REVIEW!!!!]

2011-08-02T10:24:00.000+01:00

Apparently so. Here's a review of the latest book I'm in, where it mentions my story MIDNIGHT IN A SMALL TOWN and picks up the vibe I was going for, but says the ending's...well, you'll see haha

DON'T GET ALL EMOTIONAL!

DAWN OF THE SEXY VAMPIRE [OR IN EUROPE: SEX BLOOD MAGICIANS 2]

2011-08-01T10:42:00.002+01:00

The first utterly thrilling instalment is HERE!

PART 2! That is to say, the next bit!

Tarquin Farquar could smell blood on the wind - he was a vampire hunter, and his nose was finely attuned to the smell of vampire trumps, because vampire trumps tended to smell like blood, because they drank a lot of blood, because they were vampires!

"Six years now have I been hunting these diabolical creatures," he mused to himself in a stern and badly-accented voice. Also, his sentence construction was a little weird. "Their rear exhalations make my nose burn, and my anger stir!" he declared in the exact same voice as he'd just used for that previous sentence. "When will it end, God? When will your holy crusade finally come to an end?"

"Not yet," God said. His voice always reminded Tarquin of Barry Manilow. "I made a terrible mistake putting over-sexed demons on the Earth, and I made an even terribler mistake putting those demons in sexy young bodies."

"But in your defence," Tarquin quickly interrupted, "you had no idea that, millions of years after you invented humans, some of them would get all funny in the pants about doing rude things with those sexy demons."

"That's true," God said. Although Tarquin couldn't see Him, he could easily imagine God stroking His beard thoughtfully. "Anyway," God continued, "I thought vampires might be a good way to keep ape men under control, by, you know, eating them. I should have just made more dinosaurs."

"Ape men and dinosaurs didn't exist at the same time, my Lord."

"Oh yes, that's right, they didn't."

"In fact, neither of them existed anyway, because you made Adam and Eve, and skipped right past all that other nonsense about an Ice Age and mammoths and all that."

"Very true. Sometimes I read books about them, and I think "they sound pretty cool; why didn't *I* think of that?'"

"What would your favourite dinosaur be?" Tarquin asked.

"Well, 't-rex' is the obvious answer, but in all honesty, I probably would have to say MechaGodzilla. All dinosaurs should be able to fire rockets."

"I wish I could fire rockets," Tarquin grumbled. "Anti-vampire rockets. From my fists."

"Patience, my friend," God intoned. "Your test comes from dealing with vampires with the gifts I gave you. That is, a finely-tuned nose and a deep, seething hatred towards ethnic minorities. Like most Christians."

Tarquin and God shared a chuckle at this obvious joke, although deep down they both knew they were laughing to cover the pain of miserable childhoods.

"I enjoy our talks, my Lord," Tarquin said, "but verily I must away, to do battle with the one they call 'Chris'."

"Oh yes, you've been hunting him for some time now, haven't you?"

"Ever since he exploded my niece, Sheila, I have been hunting him for some time now. Ever since he exploded her, in fact. That's how long I've been hunting him."

A beam of pure light shone over Tarquin, and God's dulcet tones said: "Good luck, Tarquin! I'm wishing you luck, and not in any kind of foreboding, ominous way, but because I genuinely like you and wish you luck in defeating the vampire called Chris, and maybe other vampires too, who knows? Not me! I don't know anything! Not really, anyway. I'm so out of touch with the world nowadays. I don't even know what an 'app' is, or why traffic wardens don't carry guns. Life is full of mysteries, and I, perhaps, am the greatest one. I sometimes wonder 'Who created me?' and then I start thinking back to my childhood, which wasn't very happy. And then I think, 'how could I have had a childhood if I don't have parents?' but maybe I was my own parents? So I must have had sex with myself, and that's a very disturbing thought. Oh golly, listen to me, this all a bit heavy for a pre-hunt pep talk. I'm sorry Tarquin. Tarquin?"

But Tarquin Farquar had already left on his perilous adventure. By the way, it was nighttime.

The moon was bright and plump, like a smart, fat girl at a school dance who's hopeful the star of the school football team will finally notice her. It's hard not to notice a fat girl, though, especially when she's squeezed into a corset and made to look like a fat girl's idea of a vixen. But much like the fat girl, the moon wouldn't stick around for long because it had a date with the horizon, whereas the fat girl didn't have a date with the horizon, but a noose in her grandparents' attic. She had no intention of hanging herself; she had a sick fixation on knots and liked to touch rope in dirty places, and the dirtiest place she knew was her grandparents' attic.

In any case, Tarquin knew he didn't have much time left to find Chris - every time he neared his quarry, his quarry didn't near him - he moved further away! His quarry, that is! Because his quarry was Chris, and Chris was...a vampire! But tonight...tonight he'd get him! "I'll get him, tonight!" Tarquin thought aloud (or: said). It was time to put his plan into action!

Tarquin opened his bumbag and withdrew a tightly-rolled tube of paper. He unfurled it to reveal an erotic poster of his niece, Sheila. Since her mother - Tarquin's sister - was a hopeless drunk, she had to earn money to pay bills, etc, and the easiest way was to pose for rude pictures, which then got blown up to A1 size so horny teenagers could put her on their wall. "I wish Chris hadn't blown you up," Tarquin sighed. His tears were held at bay by the sight of his niece's tits. If she'd not died, he could have stolen her away to his home country, where it was legal (and in fact, built in to the local law) for men to marry and sex up their nieces. Somewhere deep inside Tarquin, he knew this was his way of perpetuating the cycle of despair relevant to his family and bloodline, and that he was also technically an ethnic minority, so had God been laughing at him earlier...?

"TARQUIN FARQUAR!!!"

The vampire hunter started from his reverie - Chris had appeared, and even now floated in mid-air as if suspended by invisible wires or perhaps Hollywood CGI trickery. But this wasn't Hollywood, this was real life! The vampire wore a Terrorvision t-shirt, and appeared to have put on weight. But Tarquin had to secretly admit the monster looked good in a cloak.

"Vampire!" Tarquin shouted. "You have fallen into my trap!"

"I have't fallen anywhere," Chris said. "I'm flying, you idiot. And I didn't realise this was a poster, because my night-vision only picks up tits, whatever medium they may happen to be in."

"So you admit you were fooled by my decepticon!"

"Deception?"

"That as well!"

"Maybe. Also, I've secretly been following you because I heard you were trying to kill me, and wanted to see how dangerous you are. You've killed quite a few vampires, haven't you? And werewolves. And Creatures From The Black Lagoons."

"I'm working my way through the types of classic movie monsters, so that I am more relevant in this crazy world of high-tech pop culture references and gimmicks. No one wants to hear the exploits of a bog-standard vampire hunter. They want to know that he can also deal with other monsters!"

"Are you basing this assumption of a particular movie or book or something?" Chris asked, cautiously.

"Probably. Whatever, the time has come for you to say goodnight to the night, foul sexy demon! You have had sex with, and drank blood from, your last desperate housewife and/or emo teenager and/or fake goth!"

"I did just work my way through an entire college campus, followed by a book club. The ladies were reading Interview With a Vampire, which might have been funny if we were in 1995 or something, and people gave a shit about that sort of thing any more."

"Silence!" Tarquin roared, yet managed to modulate his voice so that he didn't say it in capital letters. "Eat stake, demon!"

"Would you believe I'm a vegetarian?" Chris said, and they both shared a final, jovial laugh. But the laughter only served to hide the fact that they'd both had miserable childhoods, and in fact grew up together, and in another fact, this revealed that what Chris had said in the previous instalment about being 317 years old, was in fact, a lie! He was only a bit older than Tarquin!

Tarquin, unaware of all of this, levelled his crossbow at Chris. "Let's see if you're faster than a speeding bullet!"

"That makes absolutely no sense in this context," Chris said.

POW! the crossbow said, in a voice like thunder!

Chris might have been able to fly away from the bolt by himself, but as it happens, he had help evading it - from GOD!

A beam of light sliced through the night sky and held the crossbow bolt in mid-air. "My Lord!" Tarquin shouted. "What are you playing at?!"

"I'm sorry for this decepticon," God said. "But I have to admit I was using you all along to find Chris. You see, I can't see vampires, and certain other demons like chatshow hosts, because the Devil has put his mark upon them. So, even though you didn't hear me wishing you luck earlier, I was being a little bit ironic, because I knew this twist was coming from the outset."

"I don't understand any of this," Tarquin and Chris said in eerie unison.

"The sun is on its way," God explained. "But I have no desire to destroy Chris. Instead, I figured out that if I bathe a vampire in holy light the moment the sun's rays hit one, they get converted into a good guy. Well, maybe not entirely good, but they'll be more liable to work for me to help me destroy the rest of the sexy monsters loose upon the world."

"But...but that's what *I* do!" Tarquin cried.

"Chris will keep all his vampire powers, so make a more effective hunter," God said. "You know, you two could work together. I bet that'd be pretty cool. And I might even be able to sell the rights to a television network."

"Never!" Tarquin screamed. "He killed my niece with sex! He is my enemy! And now, you, God, are my enemy, for forsaking me!"

"Don't be daft, Tarquin. You two grew up in the same town, anyway. So you're almost like brothers, in a way. My plan makes more sense than anything else you might have witnessed before."

"I will not listen to this madness!" Tarquin roared.

"Your niece raped me, Tarquin," Chris said. "If you'd read my exploits online you'd know that."

"I don't know how to use the internet!" Tarquin sobbed. "And reminding me of that particular inadequacy makes this officially the worst day ever!"

"That's right, it IS daytime! Or rather, dawn." God bathed Chris in holy light before the vampire could burst into flames, or whatever it is he's supposed to do. "Now you are my holy vampire warrior!" God declared.

"I feel great!" Chris said. "But I could really go for a pint...of real ale!"

God and Chris laughed. "You thought I was going to say 'blood', didn't you, God?"

"Yeah, I did!"

"Well I didn't!"

"I hate you both!" Tarquin flung himself melodramatically from the rooftop. "I would rather die than live in a world ruled by a God as ridiculous as you!" is what he planned to say, but his fear of heights kicked in as he plummeted towards the ground, and all he could say was "AAAIIIEEE!" even though, technically, the closer he got to the ground the less his fear of heights should have bothered him.

Both God and Chris flinched as Tarquin Farquar hit the pavement with a meaty splat. "Hmmm," God mused. "Tarquin always liked the theatre, and *I* always said one day he'd make an impact on Broadway."

"That would be pretty funny if we were in New York, rather than wherever-this-is," Chris said.

Both sighed at the thought of what might have been, and rode off into the sunrise, towards new and sexciting adventures.

Meanwhile, Tarquin woke up in Hell. "SATAN!" he shouted.

"What?" The Devil appeared in a purple and green dressing gown. "I was getting ready for bed. Who're you?"

"Tarquin Farquar. I used to be a monster hunter, but just now God double-crossed me, sort of, and I'm mad at him. So I committed suicide to meet you and make you a deal."

"I'm listening."

Tarquin marvelled at how Satan's voice sounded like Dick Van Dyke from Mary Poppins, but he didn't comment. Instead, he said, "Give me the powers of all the monsters I've killed and send me back up to Earth."

"Why should I do that?"

"God can't see any of the sexy demons up there, so if you give me their powers he won't be able to see me. Then, I can sneak up on him and KILL HIM!"

"Kill God?!" The Devil spluttered, spraying coffee everywhere. Oh yeah, when he first appeared he was also drinking coffee. Yeah, before bedtime!

"Do we have a deal?" Tarquin held a hand out.

"Why not?" Satan said, and shook Tarquin's hand. "This ought to be good for a giggle, cor blimey lord love a duck!"

THE END?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!???!?!?!?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!??????????????????????????????

UNLIKELY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?????????????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Dedicated to the memories of Colin Hall-Williams, Sarah Hall-Williams, and Chris Heald. They're not dead, I just like thinking about them.

IS IT A GHOST? IS IT A MAN? AGGHH! IT'S A HOLOGRAM!

2011-07-30T20:28:00.001+01:00

Ladies and gentleman, allow me to introduce to you a comic that scared the shit out of me when I was a kid. It's not by Marvel, or DC or some other known comic brand. It's not something that was intended for mature readers. It's not violent, or gory. Well, not exactly. But first, a little providence:

1987. A new toy line had recently appeared called SuperNaturals. They were like Visionaires, in that they were action figures whose main gimmick was that they used holograms. But these were better than Visionaires because they were more monstrous! I had an evil knight called Burnheart - his 'normal form' (when you turned the hologram one way) was a really ugly man. A scarily ugly man, in fact. Turn him the other way and his 'true form' revealed itself - a hideous fire demon-thing. His shield had a similar scary face in it. I thought it was ace, of course. So when a comic came out all about the SuperNaturals I had to get it!

However, what I did not count on was the truly terrifying story hidden inside entitled THE DOLL. The gist of the first part went like this: a young boy moves in with foster parents. They're still recovering from the death of one of their own children. The new boy stays in the dead son's bedroom. He finds an old trunk on top of the wardrobe, manages to open it, and finds a really ugly ventriloquist doll. Upon showing it to his foster parents, they freak out because it belonged to their dead son. The dad forcefully takes the doll from the young boy and chucks it in the bin. The last two panels have been branded upon my memory ever since: dad comes back inside holding his hands, which are visibly marked. His wife asks if he's okay. He replies, something along the lines of, "It's the strangest thing, but I could have sworn the doll scratched me as I threw it in the bin." The final panel shows the top of the doll's head as it starts to clamber out the bin.

That's creepy, right? And this was in a comic for kids my age (8, at the time)! For a while now, I've been trying to find out more about this comic, ideally to get hold of a copy, because it's one of those things that absolutely, definitely sent me down the horror path. And every time I've remembered THE DOLL it still gives me shivers so it has to be as freaky as I remember...hasn't it?

The thing is, try googling 'THE DOLL SUPERNATURALS COMIC' and it's slim pickings indeed. But, after much searching, I've finally picked up a copy of the SuperNaturals comic! Issue 4, to be precise. The weird thing is, there's no mention in the comic itself of who wrote/drew any of the artwork/segments. Some, bizarrely, were "written" by readers (I don't know if this was a piece of genius marketing or commonplace back then, asking your audience to write the very product they're buying). You do have to wonder about quality control, if this was the case. And just how old these kids were who were sending the ideas in. When you see this latest part I think you'll agree that the young mind behind it probably wasn't quite all there. On a sort of side note, there isn't a comics code logo on the cover, which suggests the reason why they could get away with publishing THE DOLL. Either that, or the publishers honestly thought little kids wanted to read about the worlds most terrifying doll (if anyone's thinking 'CHILDS PLAY', that didn't come out till 1988, so SuperNaturals kind of got the jump on people there).

Anyway, the section about THE DOLL really is significantly horrific for a comic bought by children. Here's a taster:

That first panel's a little cheesy, sure, but it's still sinister - a good bit of B-Movie fun. But you've got to agree that image above is pretty gross! And wait until you get to the last few panels of THIS segment...! It insinuates something that I'm pretty sure even kids would guess at. Brrr!

But enough teasing. Here's THE DOLL, 'episode 4'! Click the links to read! You *might* get asked for a password, in which case it's skull4hands

THE DOLL page 1

THE DOLL page 2

THE DOLL page 3

THE DOLL page 4

SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION

2011-07-19T10:36:00.002+01:00

My Amazon Author Page has now been updated! Why not go take a gander and BUY SOMETHING I'M IN? Yeah, I'm talking to YOU!

CLICKY CLICKY!

JOB 41:11

2011-07-19T01:19:00.001+01:00

When I was at school in Australia, I read pretty much the only poem I've ever 100% loved. But, all I could ever remember about it is the line "The kraken has awakened". And I remember this line because my friends and I used to pronounce it as "the cracken has awackened" - this was one of the funniest things in the world to our ten-year-old sensibilities. I also remember doodling, in red ink, a kraken attacking a ship at the top of my lined A4 piece of paper, right next to the title 'The Kraken'.

Now, thanks to the wonder of the information superhighway, I've found the actual text:

THE KRAKEN
Jack Prelutsky

Deep beneath the foaming billows
Something suddenly amiss,
As a creature wakes from slumber
In the bottomless abyss.
And a panic fills the ocean,
Every fish and frenzied flea,
For the Kraken has awakened at the bottom of the seas.

It rises to the surface
With an overwhelming noise,
And it hunts for mighty vessels
Which it crushes and destroys.
Then it chokes a great leviathan
With one stupendous squeeze!
Oh, the Kraken has awakened at the bottom of the seas.

How it lashes, how it thrashes,
How it flashes, how it flails,
How it dwarfs the greatest fishes,
Even dwarfs the mighty Wales.
Nothing living in the ocean
Can enjoy a moment’s ease,
For the Kraken has awakened at the bottom of the seas.

In searching for this poem, I also found the same-titled poem by Tennyson:

THE KRAKEN
Lord Alfred Tennyson

  Below the thunders of the upper deep;
  Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,
  His antient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
  The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
  About his shadowy sides: above him swell
  Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
  And far away into the sickly light,
  From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
  Unnumber'd and enormous polypi
  Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.
  There hath he lain for ages and will lie
  Battening upon huge seaworms in his sleep,
  Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
  Then once by man and angels to be seen,
  In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

I like this one too, although not quite as much. I think the first poem (which is from 1976) has more power, but the second (which is from 1830) has more atmosphere. With Prelutsky's, I can clearly picture a creature, a beast, so monumentally huge that even "a great leviathan" (itself supposedly the largest creature on the planet) can be destroyed by it. Just how big IS his 'Kraken'?! That sounds smutty. Heehehe!

Ahem.

Tennyson's, on the other hand, is of a size so large it's part of the very ocean bed, perhaps (STOP IT!). There is also something Lovecraftian about his Kraken, even if this might be an obvious observation ;)

Both poems have filtered into a piece I initially started writing as a mad last-minute dash to answer this impending sub call but is looking more like it's not going to be finished in time. Plus, even though 'war' is a theme in it, I'm not entirely convinced it will actually involve war...although the implications of what the main character discovers will certainly suggest that something terrible is on the horizon and getting closer with every passing day.

I have titled the story THE THIRD WAVE. I was aware this phrase had Nazi connotations, though I wasn't sure why or how. So I found this interesting article and had a good ol' read. This particular bit struck me as especially coincidental:

As his Strength Through Community lecture ended, he created a class salute by bringing his right hand toward his right shoulder in an outwardly curled position, resembling a wave.  Jones named it the Third Wave, and - despite its similarity to Third Reich - claims he borrowed the term from beach folklore, which holds that the last wave in every series of three is the largest.

I'm not going to go into any more detail about this just yet, but I did wonder if it's "right" to name a story after something that, technically, doesn't come into use until after the events of the story - even if the story doesn't directly reference the phrase...ie 'the third wave' came about in the Sixties, and my story's set in the late Forties and makes mention of the Nazis, but has more in common with that bolded line above then the actual experiment. Maybe it doesn't matter? I'm not sure.

What I will say is that, perhaps as obviously as the Tennyson/Lovecraft 'link', the Bible has some solid gold lines in it for inspiration. In particular, the sections about Leviathan and Behemoth, two gigantic and formidable creatures. Particularly Job 40:15 to 41:34:

 ¹⁵ “Look at Behemoth,

which I made along with you

and which feeds on grass like an ox.

¹⁶ What strength it has in its loins,

what power in the muscles of its belly!

¹⁷ Its tail sways like a cedar;

the sinews of its thighs are close-knit.

¹⁸ Its bones are tubes of bronze,

its limbs like rods of iron.

¹⁹ It ranks first among the works of God,

yet its Maker can approach it with his sword.

²⁰ The hills bring it their produce,

and all the wild animals play nearby.

²¹ Under the lotus plants it lies,

hidden among the reeds in the marsh.

²² The lotuses conceal it in their shadow;

the poplars by the stream surround it.

²³ A raging river does not alarm it;

it is secure, though the Jordan should surge against its mouth.

²⁴ Can anyone capture it by the eyes,

or trap it and pierce its nose?

Job 41
 ¹ ^[a]“Can you pull in Leviathan with a fishhook 
  
or tie down its tongue with a rope?
 
² Can you put a cord through its nose 
  
or pierce its jaw with a hook?
 
³ Will it keep begging you for mercy? 
  
Will it speak to you with gentle words?
 
⁴ Will it make an agreement with you 
  
for you to take it as your slave for life?
 
⁵ Can you make a pet of it like a bird 
  
or put it on a leash for the young women in your house?
 
⁶ Will traders barter for it? 
  
Will they divide it up among the merchants?
 
⁷ Can you fill its hide with harpoons
 
   or its head with fishing spears?
 
⁸ If you lay a hand on it, 
  
you will remember the struggle and never do it again!
 
⁹ Any hope of subduing it is false; 
  
the mere sight of it is overpowering.
 
¹⁰ No one is fierce enough to rouse it. 
  
Who then is able to stand against me?
 
¹¹ Who has a claim against me that I must pay? 
  
Everything under heaven belongs to me.
 ¹² “I will not fail to speak of Leviathan’s limbs, 
  
its strength and its graceful form. 
¹³ Who can strip off its outer coat? 
  
Who can penetrate its double coat of armor^[b]? 
¹⁴ Who dares open the doors of its mouth, 
  
ringed about with fearsome teeth?
 
¹⁵ Its back has^[c] rows of shields 
 
 tightly sealed together;
 
¹⁶ each is so close to the next 
  
that no air can pass between.
 
¹⁷ They are joined fast to one another;
 
   they cling together and cannot be parted. 
¹⁸ Its snorting throws out flashes of light; 
  
its eyes are like the rays of dawn.
 
¹⁹ Flames stream from its mouth; 
  
sparks of fire shoot out.
 
²⁰ Smoke pours from its nostrils 
  
as from a boiling pot over burning reeds.
 
²¹ Its breath sets coals ablaze, 
 
 and flames dart from its mouth. 
²² Strength resides in its neck; 
 
 dismay goes before it.
 
²³ The folds of its flesh are tightly joined; 
  
they are firm and immovable.
 
²⁴ Its chest is hard as rock, 
  
hard as a lower millstone.
 
²⁵ When it rises up, the mighty are terrified; 
  
they retreat before its thrashing.
 
²⁶ The sword that reaches it has no effect, 
  
nor does the spear or the dart or the javelin.
 
²⁷ Iron it treats like straw 
  
and bronze like rotten wood.
 
²⁸ Arrows do not make it flee; 
  
slingstones are like chaff to it.
 
²⁹ A club seems to it but a piece of straw; 
  
it laughs at the rattling of the lance.
 
³⁰ Its undersides are jagged potsherds, 
  
leaving a trail in the mud like a threshing sledge.
 
³¹ It makes the depths churn like a boiling caldron 
 
 and stirs up the sea like a pot of ointment.
 
³² It leaves a glistening wake behind it; 
  
one would think the deep had white hair.
 
³³ Nothing on earth is its equal— 
  
a creature without fear.
 
³⁴ It looks down on all that are haughty; 
 
 it is king over all that are proud.”



Footnotes:
Job 41:1 In Hebrew texts 41:1-8 is numbered 40:25-32, and 41:9-34 is numbered 41:1-26.

Job 41:13 Septuagint; Hebrew double bridle

Job 41:15 Or Its pride is its

Again, I repeat that Leviathan is a terrible beast, that inspires fear and awe. If something this powerful can be defeated by the Kraken, how more terrible and fearful and HUGE must that be...? And what would it be like to actually witness something this monstrous as it rises, roaring, to the surface?

But then again, the Leviathan was possibly a crocodile, and Behemoth may have been a hippopotamus or elephant...and if those things can be made to sound as terrifying as they do in the Bible, imagine what something like THIS could have been described like:

Crumbs!

CLUNK. CLICK. TRAPPED MY

2011-07-15T21:21:00.002+01:00

submission.

Just rocketed a bunch of stories off via email to various markets. Some of which were previously rejected (but nicely, and typically because they didn't quite fit whichever place) but I haven't given up hope on them yet, by gum! They include The Future Is What We Say It Is (a politics-heavy sci-fi piece, which're two things I don't really write about much), Black Mountain (a Lovecraftian 'unseen horror' piece, which I do like writing, but this time I actually kept the 'monster' off-screen), Papa Crow (one of my fav and best-received [by my peers] pieces, but still homeless) and Fresh Meat for The City (a quite frankly bizarre mash of Lovecraft and noir that was initially written for an anthology that's never taken off the ground).

I'd like to tweak and send more off but it's getting close to my bedtime, I want cake, and I now have my Xbox back online and Sky Go is calling me with all its wonderful on demand films and programs.

HAVE THAT!

LONG WEEKEND [NOT THE FILM]

2011-07-07T11:38:00.002+01:00

Well well well. The arts education collective I'm a part of has its first two "Hello world, here we are!" events/workshops this weekend - full details HERE! If you happen to be in the area, pop by and say hello. I'm the one who isn't a woman.

Finally sent AOT5FB off to the publishers, so the only antho I'm working on now is THROUGH THE WORMHOLE (with Bill Tucker). It still needs formatting and artwork, but I'm confident this'll be sorted in the not-too-distant future.

I've just about finished my 7303 qualification, too - I've been doing this as an evening/night class since February, so it'll be nice to have it all sorted and get some more free time back. Once I've got it officially, I'll be able to teach in what they call the "post-16 sector" ie college and adult education.

So, after this weekend I'll finally finally finally have some time to get back on with my own writing, properly. I've mentioned before about feeling like I'm *almost* dragging my heels sometimes, but I do have quite a few stories waiting to be published, so it's not all bad. Not having the internet on my own PC is a massive ballache, though - I have to transfer files across to my housemate's laptop if I do any subbing/editing/etc and that takes up a small, but significant, amount of time every time I have to do it. Not to mention, it's her laptop so I can't hog it haha I was hoping to have the internet for myself by now, but a certain ISP *cough SKY cough* can't get their arses into gear and send me the equipment I need. But that's another story, and a somewhat boring one.

So long for now, freaks!

BEHOLD! THE TERROR OF A THOUSAND PAGES!

2011-07-02T09:24:00.003+01:00

You can have a nosy at the cover art for Attack of the 50ft Book right HERE!

Not only does the cover monster clearly stand above fifty feet in height, but the book isn't 1000 pages long. I hope no one calls trading standards on me.

AOT5FB features stories from CHARLES M. SAPLAK, MURRAY LEEDER, BEN GODBY, LORNE DIXON, SUZANNE ROBB, J. T. RIFF, JOHN MICHAEL MARTIN, NEIL MORRIS, STEVE RUTHENBECK, KLAUS MUNDT, CHARLES DAY, MATT ADAMS, BRANDON CRACRAFT, BILL BIBO JR., PATRICK FLANAGAN and MICHAEL C. LEA and has a wide variety of giant monsters on show, from Godzilla-style mutants, to Lovecraftian deities, to colossal animals, to arcane horrors. Something for everyone, then ;)

IT'S QUIET AROUND HERE...PERHAPS EVEN A LITTLE TOO QUIET! OR MAYBE NOT QUIET ENOUGH. I DON'T KNOW WHATEVER PISS OFF.

2011-06-30T18:19:00.002+01:00

Pretty much all that stuff mentioned down there is still happening, or almost sorted. I'll reveal the cover to AOT5FB soon. I basically aced a teaching lesson I had to do recently (I talked about story elements and genre tropes) and have been busy rocking like a motherlover with my motherloving rock band HANDSOME BASTARDS. I think that's IT!

EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT THIS THING I'M SHOUTING ABOUT!

2011-06-12T10:36:00.002+01:00

Like some kind of idiot, I've completely forgotten to plug two things I'm in/involved with. So here they are! -->

COLLABTHOLOGY: KINDLE OF THE DEAD is a taster/promo Kindle book thing (e-book! that's it) brought to YOU by the chumps I'm writing Collaboration of the Dead with (to recap, there're a whole bunch of writers who're doing a couple of chapters - in a random order - to write a zombie novel, and so far it's looking ACE). This e-book contains the first 5 chapters, plus a ton of short horror stories by collab (and non-collab) writers. Get it HERE! Unfortunately, I was too busy to get a story sorted for inclusion, but I did make the nifty logo ;)

TALES FROM THE VOID is now available to buy HERE! And here's a juicy excerpt from my story in it, 'MIDNIGHT IN A SMALL TOWN':
-------------------
Reggie Jones had suffered the double indignity of premature grey hair, and early-onset male pattern baldness, reducing his once-lustrous curls to a ponytail and a ring of hair around the top of his ears. To the casual onlooker, it would appear that Reggie Jones had realized he could still grow some hair and thought, 'Do you know what? I'm going to make the most of it'. As a style, it was as unsuitable as calling a middle-class white boy from California 'Reginald'.

Small, round glasses constantly roosted on the edge of his nose, giving him an air of 'casual librarian', whilst a scruffy shirt and trousers hid both his paunch and meticulous desire for neatness and order. Since he was by no means an unattractive man, Reggie knew his occupation wrong-footed many female acquaintances. Reggie Jones was the county coroner, and he loved his job.

“I can't wait to see this deer!” He grinned at Earl. “But why's it here?”

Earl strode towards his friend, and then shook his hand. “I didn't have any room at the surgery, and I wanted to keep it in as complete a condition as possible for you to examine,” Earl explained, leading Reggie around the back of Hannon's Family Butchers. “Bill had plenty of room in his meat locker, and I reasoned that as long as I kept the deer covered up, there wouldn't be any risk of contamination.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“No. I just said me and the boys needed somewhere to store our kill from this morning for a couple of hours, and he didn't mind.”

“What didn't I mind?” Bill stood by the open back door, the remnants of a hand-rolled cigarette in his mouth.

“Just telling Reggie what a pal you are, Bill--letting me store some meat here.”

“Hey, no problem.” Bill spat the cigarette out and crushed it underfoot, and then lead the two other men inside. “Say, Earl, you've got the be the only vet I know who likes killing animals as much as saving 'em.” Bill chuckled, unlocking the large door to the cold storage.

“How many vets do you know?”

“Just you,” the butcher said, grinning. He swung the door open and flicked a switch.

Harsh fluorescents buzzed into life and bathed hanging slabs of meat in light, their surfaces caked in red frost. The deer--safely wrapped in a green, plastic bodybag--hung at the back of the walk-in refrigerator, surrounded by empty hooks.

“Give me a hand pulling it down, Earl,” Jones said, pushing his glasses further up on his nose. Earl stepped closer, and together the two men grabbed the bag. It immediately sprang to life--wicked, black hooks slicing out from inside of the bag, revealing both a tumorous growth and the dead eyes of the deer itself.

“Fuck!” Bill pinballed off slabs of meat as he staggered backwards out of the meat locker.

“I thought you said it was dead!” Jones shouted at Earl, fighting the animal's kicking legs whilst simultaneously trying to dodge insectile claws which slashed through the bag.

“It was! You can see the bullet hole where Hank put one through its brain! Dammit--” Earl let go of the struggling corpse, then dashed from the room.

He returned a moment later with his hunting rifle--to find Jones standing back and watching the creature as it buckled and writhed, bleating tonelessly and shrilly.

Earl aimed at the beast's head and fired a single, devastating shot. Pieces of the animal's skull exploded through the back of the bodybag, showering blood and bone across the back wall of the meat locker. Jones held his hands up to his ears and swore profusely.

As the animal continued to jerk and scream, Earl realized he'd shot the wrong part. He raised the rifle and fired directly into the black mass inside of its body. The deer and the black organism jerked once, twice--and then slumped inside the remains of the bodybag, fully dead once more.

“Christ on a bike!” Jones half-laughed. “I have never seen anything like that before in my life!” Making noises of relief, he tried to lift the carcass off the hook. Earl slung his gun over his shoulder and helped his friend, mindful of the black liquid that oozed inside the tattered bag.

They lifted the body together and carried it out of the shop via the back door. Bill followed them, his face pale. Wringing his hands, he said, “What was that? What happened?”

“I had to kill it again,” Earl said, lifting up and locking the back panel to the pick-up.

“Why the hell--”

“Oh, and you might want to wear gloves next time you go in the fridge,” Jones added, sliding into the truck's passenger seat. “It made a bit of a mess.”

RUMOURS OF MY DEMISE HAVE BEEN COMPLETELY MADE UP.

2011-06-07T10:45:00.003+01:00

Here I am! Don't worry, Internet, I haven't forgotten about you like...oh, um, what's-her-face. I've just been EXTREMELY, GLAMOROUSLY busy. What? How? I hear you cry. Well shut up, and I'll tell you.

For most of last week I was recording with one of my bands - we're called HANDSOME BASTARDS and we live HERE and HERE (I'm the shouty one in the atomic t-shirt). Not sure when the songs will be mixed and ready for public consumption, but you'll sure as hell be the first to know. We also had our debut gig on Saturday, which went remarkably well considering we hadn't practiced in over a week. I would even go so far as to say we're now officially down with the kids, given some of the lovely things people said about us. Lovely.

I've also been super busy finishing off the formatting for A GLITCH IN THE CONTINUUM - you can see the cover art HERE (although the text is going to be slightly tweaked before it's published) - and ATTACK OF THE 50FT BOOK (I'm doing the art for this, and I think everyone will be pleasantly surprised by the style I'm going for....ooooh what a tease!).

I'm hoping to find the time to finish tweaking THIS VILLAGE NEVER DREAMS, my cyclical novel set in the same world as JOHNNY CAVE, but nowadays instead of the 1940s. It's not been accepted or anything, I just thought it was about time to start sending it out again, see what happens :)

But the thing that's keeping me the most busy is my new business. Well, it's not "mine" as I'm doing it with two friends. We're called tinpot arts education collective and, basically, we'll be providing workshops for school/colleges/etc involving creative writing, bookbinding, drama etc (my friends have complimentary skills in these areas). Currently, we've got a book-art stall/workshop coming up on the 9th July, and another one on the 10th - details HERE! We're also in the initial planning stages for next year's Scunthorpe Young Persons Film Festival (which has been running for the last couple of years), an endeavor we're doing with a local production company called Let There Be Light. There's still a fair amount to sort out, but it's all very exciting indeed. And I have to admit I feel pretty grown-up going to actual business meetings all the time haha

Aaaand that's ya lot!

CRISPIN GLOVER IS MAGIC

2011-05-16T23:43:00.008+01:00

SIMON SAYS is a low-budget 'young adults terrorised in some woods by a maniac' gorefest, with all the usual trappings of such a film; bad acting, ropey direction, clumsy editing, (half) decent physical fx, passable CGI. By and large, it is a terrible film. But, that's like expecting a SyFy Original Movie to be, well, Original. However, there's one thing that stops this being purely a 'switch your brain off to enjoy' film:

CRISPIN GLOVER.

He is magic. You have to focus on the film to drink him in. He's liquid gold on the silver screen. Let him into your eyeballs.

He 'plays' (in the same way that Marlon Brando used to 'act') identical killer twins, Simon and Stanley. Both have a 'Well, ah do de-clare' Southern accent, although Simon's more prone to stammering like...oh I'll just say it. Like a retard. During the admittedly just-right runtime of 84 minutes, you'll marvel at their insane home-made death machines that consist of old barrels and cogs fashioned into spiked deathtraps and catapults that fire pickaxes. Lots of pickaxes. Approximately 97% of the film's CGI is used to animate roughly 560 of the 572 pickaxes seen in the film, and it is GLORIOUS to behold.

But not as glorious as CRISPIN GLOVER, who shrieks 75% of his dialogue. That could be like going to a Don McClean concert in which he plays American Pie twenty times, but believe me, it's what you want to see CRISPIN GLOVER (who I'm sure shrieks his name at people when they first meet) doing. Witness some of his finest moments, via the medium of screen captures:

He's magnetic, and at times is possessed of an almost-reptilian slickness. I also wonder just how much of his dialogue was his idea ("They do bad things to God in jail" has to be one of his, surely). Sadly, he doesn't provide any music for the movie. And I'm not being sarcastic. I'll leave you with an image of CRISPIN GLOVER'S trademark Intense Face:

Woof! Look at THAT! He can demolish buildings just by looking at them! I heart U, CRISPIN GLOVER, even if you're batshit insane and about to stamp a puppy to death (which he does in this film). And whereas many other amazing actors sometimes end up in low-budget horror films to pay the bills, I think you did SIMON SAYS because you don't give a shit. Sir, I salute you!

IN SPACE, NO ONE CAN HEAR YOU DO VERY MUCH OF ANYTHING. BECAUSE IT'S SPACE.

2011-05-14T10:25:00.002+01:00

Hurrah! This is coming out rrreeeeaaallllyyyyy sooooooon, and has a story I'm particularly pleased with in it:

That's all. Go back to sleep, humans!

ARE YOU THE GATEKEEPER?

2011-05-10T10:16:00.002+01:00

I just found out Rick Moranis earned enough money from playing nerds and being a teacher at a school full of monsters to take early retirement in 1997. Not really worth making a blog post purely about this, but this is my blog so I can post whatever I damn well please. ZING!

THE BOOK OF GOODCHILD PART 2

2011-04-27T15:11:00.002+01:00

Now you're screwed
- W. G.

Welcome to my second blog post celebrating the wonder that is me, Wayne Goodchild.

There has been some argument and discussion concerning what godly powers Wayne Goodchild possesses...needlessly to say, if you have to ask then you don't need to know.

Which all leads nicely into my next lesson for all humankind to know:

MY ENEMIES

Being a saviour of pretty much everybody, I, Wayne Goodchild, have unfortunately picked up some bastards along the way. You shall get to know them as I describe, in vague detail, the spastics who make my blissful existence that bit harder...

Why won't you die?!
- W. G.

Actually, come to think of it, I'm not going to bother listing them, as soon, they'll all be dead.

Eat shit and die, you fucking redneck
- W. G.

All under my control is glorious, all faces beneath my gaze are righteous, and every shoe I try on, fits. I am Wayne Goodchild and I am amazing. To fully understand how truly awe-inspiring Wayne Goodchild is, I want you to imagine ALL the tallest people in the entire world stood on each other's shoulders. There might very well be quite a few basketball teams included in this scenario. Now, if you converted the resultant hieght into Greatness, I would still be better than it.

Wayne Goodchild is wise. He is the Lightbulb. He is The Way. He may make slight spelling mistakes, but they are simply tests.

DARE YOU FAIL?!

I am going to kill you
- W. G.

Everyone knows about the 'water into wine' guff. What might not jump so readily to mind is the time Wayne Goodchild turned a Nazi into a Jew. Which one holds more significance? Think about it. Also, the whole 'this is my flesh' business...proof Jesus and his disciples were cannibals. You can't trust cannibals. Wayne Goodchild doesn't go in for any of that funny business, although he is very fond of meat.

Unlike how some other deities may have created Man in their image, I did not dare to do that. It would mean, at some point, that I'd have sex with myself. Not healthy. I did create all Wayne Goodchilds in my image, though. As far as I am aware I am the only one, like Chesney Hawkes.

Yes.

Chesney Hawkes.

...
- W. G.

Back to the subject of enemies: it seems most, if not all, gods have a nemesis. God/Jesus has Satan (which actually means 'an adversary') whereas Wayne Goodchild has Nemesis, the Alton Towers' rollercoaster. Ever since travelling to the theme park at 8am, then going straight on Nemesis and promptly feeling intensely sick, I have hated that fucking ride.

I hate that fucking ride
- W. G.

Miracles. Everybody loves miracles. Be it rain holding off for Wimbledon or some grandmother lamping a mugger, miracles are lovely. Well, let Wayne Goodchild tell you:

THERE ARE NO MIRACLES! You make the world what it is, as there is nothing quite so indomitable as the human spirit. You can survive all odds - YOU CAN YOU CAN YOU CAN. Or at least, you can die trying, which makes you a victim of honour; an equally valid manner of living.

NOW. The final lesson:

OBEY WAYNE GOODCHILD
OBEY WAYNE GOODCHILD
OBEY WAYNE GOODCHILD

Only YOU can decide how to live, under my rules
- W. G.

Look for PART 3 - The Wayne Goodchild Collected Mythos - coming to an internet near you soon! SOON!

BACK ONCE AGAIN WITH THE RENEGADE MASTER

2011-04-23T10:24:00.004+01:00

Hello, oiks. I know you all struggle to function without irregular updates from yours truly, so get on your knees in supplication because HERE COMES INFO!

I'm currently editing ATTACK OF THE 50FT BOOK. It's an anthology filled with giant monster stories, for those of you who've been living under a rock in a cave on Saturn with your eyes stitched shut and wax in your ears. I've also started work on the cover, which should look pretty cool indeed.

The artist I've contracted for the cover to A GLITCH IN THE CONTINUUM (stories about time travel/alternate reality, that all involve something going tits up) recently provided me with rough sketch ideas and they're EXCELLENT. I can't wait to reveal the finished product! I'm also working on formatting this book right now, too.

Editing should start soon for THROUGH THE WORMHOLE, an antho I'm putting together with my chum and partner in rhyme BILL TUCKER - this one's stuffed with weird sci-fi that ranges from the goofy to the grotesque!

And finally, in the anthology department, I'm just waiting for the ISBNs for NO MORE HEROES, a shared universe superhero antho me and Bill put together. This one's been delayed by a few months now, so it'll be good to finally get it out there in the big wide world.

All these books are coming out via THE LIBRARY.

As much as I enjoy putting anthologies together (and getting an insight into the publishing business in the process) I'm rather looking forward to getting these ones out the way purely because I haven't had much time to concentrate on my own writing, and I hate the idea of losing any forward momentum (I don't think that's going to happen, but there's always that little fear).

I've been very lucky in that the last few stories I've written and had accepted were for invite-only publications, something of which I'm extremely proud - I've only being getting stuff accepted/subbing stuff since Feb '09, so to be at this 'level' already gives me a bit of a big head ;). I can actually feel myself getting better at writing, as nuts as that sounds. Of course, it helps that I've found a brilliant support network of other writers, and I'm always finding more. Too many to name, in all honesty, but you could start by checking out the blogs to the other people who follow me over there --> as well as clicking on a few of the links (not least Cafe Doom and the other writer blogs). [As an aside, I definitely could do with linking to some other cool writing places such as SHOCK TOTEM but I'll leave all that for the near-future]. As naff as it sounds, I don't think I'd be where I am without a lot of the help and support of the writers I've met online (and in some cases, in real-honest-to-goodness-flesh), so thanks. You know who you are, you chumps!

In other news, every time I go in Blockbuster to rent a DVD whoever serves me actively tries to make me change my mind. I could understand if I was picking up SyFy Originals or Asylum knock-offs, but the last few films were THE LAST EXORCISM, BURIED and MONSTERS. The Last Exorcism was genuinely creepy, though I think it blows its load at the end (I like the ending but it doesn't exactly flow. But then maybe that's the point...); Buried was excellent, ballsy and deeply claustrophobic even when watching it on a household telly in a well-lit room; Monsters was good, well-shot, but overall underwhelming. Perhaps due to the "shoestring" budget, more than likely to do with the script, which felt a bit obvious.

I do, however, firmly believe that what the director/vfx artist/jack-of-all-trades Gareth Edwards has created is one hell of a calling card of his talents, and a clear indication that you don't need $squillions to make an effective film. You can arguably make a better film, but then that's pretty obvious. In any case, with all three films, the staff at Blockbuster proved themsleves to be grossly uneducated. You can have an opinion, but when you're calling something like Monsters "shocking" (as in 'shockingly bad') you need to get some sense in that coconut of yours, sunshine.

Last but not least, I'm steadily beavering away on an aforementioned 'phobia' story, that should be pretty cool once it's done and dusted - I'm linking it to/setting in the same universe as my Jonny Cave stories, which makes me feel stupidly giddy for no apparent reason. I'm also working on a million other stories, including a few that mess with the idea of alternate realities (hint: they don't actually exist as 'alternates') and one that is taking its time to scramble out my brainpan but is very strange indeed, and involves killer bird creatures and British daytime TV.

And that's ya lot! I've been Wayne Goodchild's fingers, typing his thoughts onto your screen. And you've been your eyes, reading them. Well done, you.

I ACKNOWLEDGE WAYNE GOODCHILD AS MY LORD AND MASTER, AND ADMIRE HIS TREATMENT OF ANIMALS

2011-04-07T09:21:00.002+01:00

I would like to publicly apologise for insinuating that whatever Wayne Goodchild tells me to write is a waste of time and unimportant. Wayne Goodchild is the most important human I know, next to Willy, the little boy who accompanies me on my adventures. What? He does. That's not some weird alien rabbit slang, you pervert.

Wayne Goodchild has a special way of treating animals, even mutant ones like me. You can find out more about this particular personality quirk when this book comes out:

His story is called DR DOLITTLE, HE AIN'T and it's quite frankly the most absurd thing he's ever written. That's not my opinion, I hasten to add, but Wayne Goodchild's himself. A man gets stranded in a desert diner, clearly on the run from something...but what? When this antho comes out, you'll know! OH BOY, WILL YOU! Hint: it involves animals.

Mind you, I'm currently on the run myself - from EVIL TOADS!

Yes! Got to slip that in again!

I'VE GOT MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO WITH MY TIME THAN TELL EVERYONE ABOUT YOUR STUPID VHS COLLECTION

2011-04-05T11:21:00.003+01:00

No, I simply won't do it. It's a stupid request, getting me to update your blog with news that, by this very afternoon, you'll have your frankly stupefying collection of 1980's horror films on proud display in your lounge, possibly angled so that the front covers scare the crap out of your female housemate who can't even watch a David Lynch film without cowering in abject terror. I won't do OH GODDAMN IT, you got me to do do it anyway. How the hell did that happen? There's not even any way I can offer my usual parting shot of 'mind you, something something EVIL TOADS!', except by making a point about not being able to do it, like I just did then. Argh. I'm Captain Bucky O'Hare, and I'm getting mighty fed up of caretaking Wayne Goodchild's stupid blog.

And yeah, this post really does qualify as 'guff' is you ask me. And since you're over my shoulder dictating what I write, why the hell haven't you just put all that crap about the videos yourself? Wait what are you doing? I'm sorry, Wayne Goodchild! I didn't mean to ques

WITH ALL THOSE BAD WORDS, YOU'LL GIVE ME A COMPLEX

2011-04-04T11:51:00.007+01:00

That's a joke, because *guffaw* get this *snigger* Complex is the name of the evil toad computer I always fight! HA HA HA! Anyway, let me get serious for a moment.

Wayne Goodchild informs me he's very busy at the moment, editing and some other boring human stuff I really can't be bothered to repeat here. Something about losing work, and having time to write or YAWN BORING WAYNE. An interesting thing he did come out with is that his latest Jonny Cave story owes a debt to John Carpenter's film In The Mouth of Madness (which is one of my favourite films, alongside Bunny Girls On Top) and that his phobia story, which is about Xanthophobia (the fear of yellow) takes place in the same universe as Jonny Cave, but in modern times. That's actually quite exciting. I do enjoy writers who link their stories together. Mind you, I prefer linking up awesome hand-to-hand combat techniques when I'm fighting EVIL TOADS!

A BIG FAT EFF YOU TO HORROR WRITERS

2011-03-26T18:06:00.003Z

I'm an intergalactic rabbit, so I don't really care about human problems (like funding cuts and dodgy publishers) but Wayne Goodchild is human and does care about human problems, especially what's currently going on with Dorchester/Leisure publishing. HERE'S THE SKINNY.

He also apologises to his housemate for using her internet connection to update his blog with important writing news (ha ha!) and reminds other humans living in the UK that clocks go forward tonight. Or is it back?

Mind you, I don't have time to be concerned with such things because I'm busy hunting down EVIL TOADS!

I GO WHERE NO ORDINARY RABBIT WOULD DARE

2011-03-19T21:50:00.002Z

THE INTERNET! And on the internet is where you'll find Wayne Goodchild's latest story OF BURIED TRUTHS. It's a spooky 800 word piece of Lovecraftian horror and it's HERE. Can you get away with calling something 'spooky' if it's not for children? Or rubbish? I don't think I'd be bothered about reading something if it was sold to me as being 'spooky'. Mind you, I don't bother reading much anyway because I'm too busy fighting EVIL TOADS!

LET'S CROAK SOME TOADS!

2011-03-10T09:34:00.003Z

Whilst I'm hiding out from the evil Complex, let me clue you Earthlings in on what my chum Rev. Wayne Austin Goodchild is up to!

A new Jonny Cave story, involving an insight into what might be lurking under the streets of New Bedlam...
A story about Xanthophobia - the fear of YELLOW!
Editing A GLITCH IN THE CONTINUUM
Sending out notifications for ATTACK OF THE 50FT BOOK
Reading for THROUGH THE WORMHOLE
Moving house! I'm reliably informed he spent a lot of money on a bed recently. I wouldn't mind sleeping in a proper bed - the bunks on my spaceship, The Righteous Indignation, are VERY uncomfortable. Mind you, there's precious little time for sleep when the universe is under threat from EVIL TOADS!

SEXCITING TIMES!

2011-02-20T10:14:00.003Z

If I ever go into the erotic publishing business that'll be the name of my flagship zine.

Anyway, I recently discovered that you can read old issues of TIME online! *HERE* Reading some of the ones from 1940 are really interesting, though I'm mindful as to just how much of it is propaganda...

Why 1940? Because I'm working on a new Jonny Cave story! Don't all get up at once. The buzzword this time around is 'death'. Lots and lots of death. And madness. So it'll be quite a cheery tale, I'm sure you'll agree. I'm also trying to implement quite a strong religious angle to it, mainly 'the power of belief' rather than any naff preachy guff.

Also polishing a sub for Michael Lea's BETA CITY anthology - subs are still open for this if anyone fancies taking a crack at it. My story's about a cop who tangles with (what he thinks is) a new supervillain...but it's not! OOOO!

What else? I'm slowly but surely working on a logo for a friend's roller derby team, editing stories for the Glitch antho, and reading subs for the 50ft Book antho, not to mention trying to find furniture for my new flat :S so it's all go for now, but most certainly...SEXCITING TIMES!

"WE'RE ALL DOOOOOMED, CAPTAIN MAINWARING!"

2011-02-16T16:10:00.004Z

So it turns out the first anthology I co-edited (with the lovely Bill Tucker) is now available. Stone the crows! 400 pages of apocalyptic fiction - it doesn't get much DOOMIER than that, no sir.

http://www.amazon.com/Doomology-Patrick-S-DOrazio/dp/1453731490/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1297813870&sr=8-2

Why don't you buy it before the world ends?

THE DEADLINE...APPROACHETHETHETETHHH!!!!

2011-02-10T11:59:00.003Z

Two deadlines coming up, chumps, so get your stories in! GO ON THEN!

ATTACK OF THE 50 FT BOOK

THROUGH THE WORMHOLE

Deadlines: 1st March! CRIKEY!

WHERE YA GOIN' NOW?

2011-01-15T18:08:00.002Z

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-4GOXv8P3HI

I'm MOVVVIIINNNGGG!!!!! I mean, I'm always moving because I have use of my legs, but what I mean is 'I'm moving house'. I'll be online in spits and spats for a while, but DON'T FRET! You can still access super duper tasty Rev. Austin goodness in its various forms in my absence:

My very short Lovecraftian piece OF BURIED TRUTHS will appear on Eschatology at the end of this month.

The second part of the Jonny Cave adventure DIONYSUS RISING should appear in New Bedlam this month too.

Previously on Jonny Cave... A travelling theatre troupe have rolled into town, and their latest performance is having a decidedly weird effect on all those who watch it. After the only other preacher in New Bedlam cuts his wrists and tries to drink the blood, and Jonny's companion Laura Paris gets impossibly, uncharacteristically, drunk, Jonny decides to take direct action and confront the head of the theatre group...

What else? I think that's it for now. My band, Phyliss, have some songs online if you fancy a listen [http://www.myspace.com/phylisswilldestroyyou] and my other band, Handsome Bastards, may or may not have some songs online soon, too [http://www.myspace.com/realbastards].

Ta ta, kiddies! KEEP WATCHING THE SKKKKKKIIIIIIIEEESSS!!!!

Your friendly neighbourhood Rev xxx

NIGHT OF THE SEXY VAMPIRE

2011-01-10T23:23:00.006Z

Patient: I keep seeing vampires with fangs dripping blood.

Doctor: Have you seen a psychiatrist?

Patient: No, just vampires.

Sheila looked mournfully out of her bedroom window at the full moon. It was night time. The sky was very dark, apart from the moon, which was full and in it (the sky). And quite bright. Because it was the moon. Somewhere, Sheila didn’t know where because she wasn’t very good at geography, a dog howled, possibly at the moon. A soft breeze flowed sensuously and not a little sexily through her open window and caressed her seventeen-year-old breasts. They were large for her age. Sheila wasn’t wearing a bra, or indeed a blouse, because she was waiting for a visitor…a nocturnal visitor! And having her magnificent tits out was the best way to get his attention, like an erotic Bat Signal.

And then…there! Up in the sky! Blasting through the dark clouds like a human-shaped Red Arrow came her…vampire lover! He could fly because he was a vampire! And had magical sexy powers powered by blood and sex! Sheila thought he was the most magical, sexiest man she had ever known, and she had known many men in the last year. Intimately, that is, because she liked to have sex. As her mother often told her: “You’re a young woman now, Sheila, not a girl, and life is going to open its doors for you the moment you learn to open your legs.”

Sheila’s mother was a broken woman, whose former career as an underwear model had hit the skids the moment she got pregnant. Now, she lived vicariously through her daughter, which was amusing in its own way as Sheila’s mother had found religion, or more accurately: God. At the bottom of a bottle. She was a drunk, and Sheila hated her for it. But, if it meant her mother was too toasted to realise she was now erotically linked with a man three hundred times her age, then that was okay.

“Oh!” she sighed mournfully, as Chris, the sexy vampire, levitated down from the Heavens. He wore a classy black cloak and fashionably ripped jeans. Sheila found his beard and Alestorm t-shirt highly arousing as she secretly liked beards and pirate metal bands.

“I have answered your siren call,” Chris intoned. His eyes were like Malteasers, painted black and stuck in his eyeballs.

“Oh Chris,” she sighed. “I want you to take me.”

Chris held a pale hand to his rugged face and turned everso-slightly away from Sheila. “You know that I cannot violate your flesh, without the risk of either killing you or making you as I am…a vampire!”

“Make me like you,” she begged. “When I kiss you it’s like fireworks go off in my knickers. Only you can put that flame out!”

“I would not be able to live with myself were I to turn you, Sheila.” He turned away a little bit more as he artfully hid a lone tear that stealthily crawled its way from the corner of his left eye. He was having a memory. A memory flashback! His last girlfriend, Amelia, had been younger than Sheila, but no less voluptuous. He had turned her into what he was…a vampire! She had survived the transformation, and they even had a baby together, but she died in childbirth, and the baby had a genetic disorder common to babies born of mixed parents – it had the body of a bat and the head of a baby, but both were the proportions they should be, making it too heavy to fly, since the baby head part was pretty big, and the bat body was pretty small. In fact, when it tried to move it ended up pushing its forehead along the floor as it dragged itself forwards by its puny wings. It was a terrible, sorry, and terrible sight, and Chris had been only too happy to kill it. But now he felt sad whenever he thought about killing it, because it might have grown up to be a viable financial commodity that he could have toured as a sideshow freak. Chris wasn’t good with money, and it was this memory of his financial shortcomings that caused the aforementioned tear to ooze gothily from his eye.

“We do this same old song and dance almost every night!” she cried, but softly. Her breasts heaved, and Chris ogled them with his vampire eyes. Yes! He was a vampire! “And at school you ignore me!”

“If anyone were to know we are inexplicably linked soulmates, my enemies would use you against me. I have to go to school because I get education benefits from the council, and I need that money to afford cool stuff like this cloak. Plus it gives me a good cover story for not being a vampire. All I have to do is avoid direct sunlight, otherwise you know the effect reveals that I am…a vampire!”

“Yes, I remember. Your hair stands on end and you turn bright pink.”

“No. I explode.”

“Oh yes that’s right.”

“Luckily, England has terrible weather so I can walk freely during the day. I just made a joke about this country’s weather, Sheila.”

She laughed, and her breasts heaved. Chris ogled them even more with his eyes, which were still the eyes of a vampire, because he was still a vampire!

“Invite me in if you wish,” he said. “But I can only kiss you and touch you up.”

“Works for me,” she said. She moved from the window sill so Chris could float elegantly into her room.

He grimaced at the posters of Fallout Boy and Panic At The Disco that adorned her walls. “Music of my youth was far superior to this,” he said. “I wish you would consider listening to some.”

“You’re three hundred times my age,” she said. “All the music from your youth is boring and like really old-fashioned.”

“Sheila. I’m 317 years old. That’s not three hundred times your age.”

She pulled a confused face, which Chris found deeply sexy because he secretly liked stupid girls.

“Can I get you a drink?” she asked. “When my mum passes out I bleed her a bit.”

“So that’s why the blood you give me makes me feel tipsy. Yeah, I’ll have some of that.”

Sheila pulled a special tankard from beneath her bed, followed by a bottle of dark liquid. It was blood! She poured the dark liquid, which was her mother’s blood, into the tankard, and handed it to Chris. He greedily knocked it back.

“Tastes like the good stuff I get in Whitby!” he exclaimed.

She poured him another drink, and another. Soon, he was feeling woozy. More woozy than the alcohol-laced blood usually made him feel.

“I feel woozy,” he said. “More woozy than the alcohol-laced blood usually makes me feel.”

“Rest your head,” she said, gently helping him down onto her bed.

“I feel woozy,” he said.

“Yes,” she agreed, gently taking his clothes off. “I put Rohypnol in the blood.”

“But it shouldn’t affect me this quickly,” he said. “I used it on a girl once and had to wait 30 minutes until it kicked in.”

“I added some of my mum’s sleeping pills to the mix too,” Sheila said.

“Ah,” Chris nodded. Slowly, his eyes closed. Soon, he was asleep.

“Now it’s time for the good stuff,” Sheila said, doing something rude to his junk. She began to touch his willy, is what she did. She vigorously worked her own brand of sexy magic until Chris’s vampire willy was ready for her.

She put his willy in her, and started to have sex with his sleeping body. It was wonderful, and better than any sex she had ever had. It felt like someone had rammed a stick of dynamite up her chuff and lit the fuse in her brain. The flame was burning its way down and through her teenage body. She started to say erotic things like “Oh yes” and “More, more” and “That feels nice, Chris, oh yeah that’s nice”. She didn’t swear though, because she felt there was no need for that sort of thing.

A good amount of time later, let’s say five minutes later, Sheila felt Chris climax his vampire goodness into her, and she exploded with joy. Literally exploded with joy. Chris had not been lying because he was really a frigid vampire. He had been telling the truth! Unprotected sex with a vampire when you’re not a vampire can kill you! Or at the very least give you a bad disease! Unfortunately, Sheila was not alive to learn this valuable lesson, because she was exploded and dead, all over her Fallout Boy posters, and all over Chris.

He woke up a bit later to find Sheila’s groin resting on his lap, and the rest of her spraypainted on the walls. It was a good thing he was a vampire and not nauseated by the sight of blood, because he might have felt like being sick, or even…fainted! Resisting the temptation to lick her up, he put his clothes on and flew out the window. His keen vampire vision picked out Deidre at number 45 flashing her tits to signal him and he swooped down towards her open bedroom window.

THE END! OR IS IT?

Dedicated to Colin Hall-Williams, who dared me to write terrible teen vampire fiction, and Chris Heald, for following my dare of writing 'I HEART RAPISTS' in a Twitter post. Salut, mon amis!

MODEST SELF-IMPRESSIONS!

2011-01-06T21:30:00.003Z

Hello world.

I also make music.

Have a listen!

http://www.myspace.com/phylisswilldestroyyou

If our skronk doesn't make you want to have violent sex, you're dead inside.

NAPPY YEW HEAR!

2011-01-02T13:48:00.003Z

Not much to report, morons. I've only got one resolution and I'm already excelling at it: continue being better than you. Piss easy! Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

THE YEAR IN REVIEW!

2010-12-27T12:07:00.002Z

2011 is coming for us like a mentally-ill ex-wife desperate for child support (for a child you never had together), so let's take a moment to barricade the doors, lock the windows and look back at the year that was whilst we wait for the police to arrive...

JANUARY 2010 started badly with news that top-selling horror writer Karen Mulligan had passed away after a freak accident in her Beverly Hills home. She'd been using her teeth to unscrew a child-proof cap from a bottle of pills, but the cap came off and lodged in her throat, choking her to death. Mulligan was best known for her 'Stein' trilogy of books, in which she reinvented Victor Frankenstein and his monstrous creation as high school best friends, who got into sexy adventures with underage girls and frowning bullies. A film of the first book, NUTS N BOLTS, is due to be released this coming summer. Steven Spielberg is producing, with Vin Diesel as the Monster.

FEBRUARY 2010 was a happier month, as sales of horror-related media soared into exceptionally high figures. Hallmark revealed plans to create 'Horrorday', a week-long explosion of terror aimed squarely at people who liked to buy cards and cheap gifts for no particular reason. Also this month, Nick Nolte was arrested for beating up James Cameron at an awards show.

MARCH 2010 heralded the long-awaited second album from popular art-rockers Bendy Samson. The album, entitled Chainsaw Barbecue, came after the band (comprised of ex-members of Coldplay, Talking Heads and The The) dropped off the musical radar and allegedly set up a cult in South America back in 2004. Whatever the truth may be, they came back better than ever, and their first single 'Fruit-Flavoured Poison Drink' reached a respectable 27 in the UK top 40, and Chainsaw Barbecue hit number ten in the US album chart.

APRIL 2010 saw a rash of bad slasher films hit the multiplexes in what became known as the 'Spring of Knives' in some tabloid papers. Hatchet Face 2 lead the charge, and set the tone with its grisly depiction of axe-face-to-normal-face murders (many reviews said it was no wonder the first film was banned, and that this sequel should have gone the same way). Hot on this film's bloodied heels came Night at the Waxworks, a "re-imagining" of the 1980's horror Waxworks, that saw French actor extradonnaire Vince Cassel take the role of a creepy caretaker in a dilapidated museum, only to end up being a deranged blah blah blah. Even director Ron Howard jumped on board the horror train with his ill-judged 'family slasher' Dinner at the Smiths, in which Tom Hanks played the crazy father of a family of murderers, who terrorise their neighbourhood dressed like Dr Suess' characters. It was withdrawn from general release within one week, and has yet to see light of day on DVD.

MAY 2010. Absolutely nothing of any interest happened this month. Scientists were at a loss to explain why.

JUNE 2010 - the Shoemaker Spanner 6 comet passed by Earth and lit up the sky over Southern Turkey for six whole days. Those who witnessed the Aurora Borealis-style lightshow soon started showing signs of radiation sickness. The death toll from that event reached 152 people.

JULY 2010 saw the release of another new book from Stephen King. Lights Out told the story of a struggling Maine writer as he and his wife tried to patch up their marriage whilst on holiday in Turkey. A subsequent lightshow from a passing comet causes everyone to turn into plant-creatures and control vehicles with their minds.

AUGUST 2010 had the whole world celebrate my birthday. Also this month, James Patterson unveiled his plans to write a series of spy books centered around a telekinetic cop with a violent personality. "It's about time I wrote something interesting," he admitted.

SEPTEMBER 2010 saw the death of long-term cable horror TV host 'Uncle Coffin' (real name George Henderson). Famous in Connecticut for his regular shopping trips dressed up in his trademark black cloak, top hat and zombie make-up, Uncle Coffin captured the hearts and minds of Middle America with his monthly 'Uncle Coffin's Mildly Worrying Anxiety Hour' show, in which he'd look at news items that caused him mild concern. He would then use this to segue into a (often-unrelated) horror film. One rare occasion in which he did manage to seamlessly link his show to the following film was when he spent 60 minutes talking about the woman who'd put a cat in a wheelie bin, and then showed the 1980's version of Cat People.

OCTOBER 2010 To no one's surprise, Hallmark ended up using Halloween as their 'Horrorday' event, and subsequently ruined it for everyone who actually enjoyed that holiday. "It's just another excuse to buy crap," TV pundit Mags Green said on the Glenn Beck show. His opinion was repeated by radio personality Paul Gambaccini on the BBC Six O'Clock News, but in a far more educated and interesting manner.

NOVEMBER 2010 Neo-noir thriller Crimes of the Broken-Hearted becomes the fastest selling foreign-language audio book in the history of all Novembers. Author and narrator Giles Svenskaard said of his impossibly fast rise to success: "Jag kan inte tro min lycka! Jag är så glad människor är villiga att ge en ljudbokberättad helt på svenska ett försök!"

DECEMBER 2010 sees the body of Lord Lucan wash up on a beach in Africa, completely intact and showing no signs of decay. An autopsy quickly reveals it to be "a fake". The UK has something of a White Christmas as BNP activists burn down several mosques in celebration of Jesus' birth and the release of the Screwdriver Xmas Album.

What's next for us? What treats will 2011 have in store? This reporter, for one, cannot wait to find out! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, scumbags! Rev. Austin, sign- oh thank god you're here. She's waiting in the shed with a gun. I don't know how she got out. She did bring me a Terry's Chocolate Orange, which was a nice thought. Oh no, I'm happy for you to kill her. The divorce was finalized last month and her own doctor said she's a danger to society. Absolutely. It IS for the best. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you, too, officers!

HOWARD 'F##KING A' LOVECRAFT

2010-12-23T20:32:00.003Z

My very f##king short piece of s##t-hot Lovecraftian fiction OF BURIED TRUTHS is due to appear on http://eschatologyjournal.org/ at the end of motherf##king January, bitches! Suck my balls, non-believers! Your blood will paint the walls of R'lyeh when I pop round to do a bit of f##king renovation, you c##ksucking whores! TAP THAT!

REV. AUSTIN'S C##T-KICKING F##K FEST IS GO!

2010-12-22T00:52:00.005Z

Up yours you c#m-guzzling f##ktard! My blog's got a new s##t-faced attitude, you c##k-teasing wet fart. Expect motherf##king expletive-laden movie reviews c##ting soon, you t##ts! It's going to be like a punch in the face, if you're a woman and I'm a man's fist. Or kick in the balls if you're a woman and I'm a man's foot. And the woman has balls! F##k yeah, p####s! Join in the s###k-lathering fun or eat s##t, you d##k-faced b#####ds.

SPARE A THOUGHT FOR POOR OLD BUDDY

2010-12-19T10:10:00.004Z

There he is, working as a security guard for a hospital, minding his own business, when he finds Laurie Strode hiding in his little hut. She's just escaped said hospital and has everyone's favourite Shape after her. And there's Buddy, kind old Buddy, who can't get much sense out of the terrified girl and so instead soothes her with assurances that "it's going to be okay" and "nothing's going to happen", only to then get an axe in the back. Poor, dear old Buddy. He could have been something of a hero, but all he did was serve as an example that in Rob Zombie's HALLOWEEN 2, no one is safe.

This idea is mercilessly executed (arf arf!) again, and again, and again throughout the rest of the film, so much so that you soon realise that what could have been one of the film's greatest strengths ends up being just as predictable as almost every other slasher. That nice cop with the best of intentions? Dead. That harmless teen who's looking forward to sex with a fit girl? Dead. That fit girl? Dead. There's something to be said for a slasher film in which most of the characters die, but it's not necessarily a good thing. I'm all for bleak, unrelenting horror, but for it to be most effective you need some sliver of hope, a small ray of sunlight the characters can frantically rush towards. The main driving force in H2 is that everyone wants Michael Myers dead. Not exactly uplifting. Plus, as is the case with these sort of films, there's no guarantee he'll even stay dead (as exemplified by his 'resurrection' (double arf!) at the start of this instalment). Slasher films are the serpent that eats its own tail.

Although H2 is almost a one-note film (more on that in a moment) that treats most of its kills and gore as a gratuitous treat rather than cathartic release, it is enjoyable and not without its merits. Some of the more effective scenes and ideas are the ones that are repeated most often; namely, the wide shots and the use of juxtaposition, both of which are done very well. Regards the wide shots - I'm a fan of any artist who understands the importance of space. Zombie shows us characters in wide open areas, alone in the big wide world. There are also a few successful kills shown via wide shots (the best probably being when Myers steps out from behind a tree...how did he get there? He's one sneaky tramp!) but generally it works in a 'where are you going to run to?' manner - when all around you is open space, there is nowhere to hide. So running is futile. You might as well just give up now and accept a knife to the face.

They say that with music, it's the notes you don't play that are important. This can be applied to films in that it's the scenes you don't see that are important. The most obvious example of this is the 'ear' scene in Reservoir Dogs, but really, it's all down to the audience's imagination and Rob Zombie plays on this notion a few times (successfully) only to then resort back to more cheap thrills and gorehound gags (again, I'm a fan of this sort of thing, but Zombie overplays his hand somewhat so that it becomes expected, and therefore drains those moments of any real visceral thrill).

The juxtaposition is done particularly well in a couple of scenes: Laurie, the Sheriff (who she lives with) and the Sheriff's daughter (Laurie's best friend) are sat eating pizza. The sheriff's being a goofy dad and embarrassing his daughter as he extols the virtue of eating meat. This is intercut with Myers carving up and chowing down on a dog. Mmm mmm mmmm! Later, when the aforementioned fit girl gets killed, her screams and cries for help are cut with/drowned out by interior scenes of Laurie and her other friend having a whale of a time in the nearby bar.

What stops H2 from becoming a one-note film is also the very thing that apparently turned almost everyone off it - the rather clumsy 'psychological' angle. With all the subtly of a brick, Zombie starts the film with a quote about what a 'white horse' symbolises (in a dream context: violence, although there is apparently no actual psychological reference relating to this idea). He then shows us Michael Myer's mum every so often with a white horse beside her. Generally, these bits play out like bad arthouse cinema, with vague dialogue and stark filters, but it's all a bit naff. Having Myers "haunted" by his dead mum, and a vision of his younger self isn't a bad idea, but it doesn't quite work.

Later, we're shown that Laurie shares some sort of psychic link with Myers which does work on one level (they are siblings, after all) but not in the way Zombie possibly intended. How does she see the exact same thing he does? And how can his visions 'physically' affect her? It doesn't quite make sense. Maybe she has the same problem with her brain as he does (which is strongly suggested) but her visions are exactly the same as his, and it feels more like one hefty coincidence that would have been better explained in a true supernatural angle rather than the cod-psychology we get instead.

I fully expected to hate H2 (especially after all the negative press it's received) but I thought it was pretty good - better than the first one, in any case. I kept wondering what it might be like if Rob Zombie really cut loose, but then I'd get reminded that all of his films are exactly that. Except, they'll be points where he remembers he's making something people will actually need to watch, and dials it down a bit, diluting the overall experience and creating an uneven tone. The Devil's Rejects is perhaps his most successful film in terms of balancing his directorial aesthetic with the trailer-trash archetypes and set-dressing he likes so much, but I think it'd be unfair to say Halloween 2 doesn't come close in some regards.

I think, by now, it's possible to look at a Zombie film and know it's one of his, and H2 has that grimy cinematography thing going on all over its scruffy face, sometimes to its detriment (again, you don't need to give a bad guy a deformed mask to make him creepy - this sometimes ends up being a case of 'trying too hard') but usually to its credit (it helps create mood and atmosphere, two things a lot of modern horror movies lack). Plus, his recurring actors are all good fun to watch (Brad Dourif is absolutely, incredibly brilliant as the sheriff; Malcolm McDowell is a not-entirely-unsympathetic Loomis, with some good quotes and a fine line in blasé arrogance) and the kid who now plays young Myers is much better than the pasty fatso from the first go-around. But if there's one thing about this film that really wound me up, and is grotesquely unfair, it's seeing Sheri Moon Zombie appear in the credits ABOVE Brad Dourif. Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong. She's by no means a dining table but come on...Dourif out-acts her in his sleep (and I think the sheriff is a far more pivotal character than Myer's mum, in that he reacts realistically to situations, exudes pathos and underpins some major scenes). Okay, your wife's hot Rob, but give the man some proper respect. Seesh!

Other than that, a solid film. I actually think Rob Zombie would do himself (and the audience) a better service if he created his own slasher mythos (I don't think the Rejects quite count in this regard), rather than try to warp a pre-existing one to his particular mindset. Providing he manages to balance his crazy aspirations with his actual decent bouts of directing. And doesn't put his bloody wife in it.

THE INEXORABLE RISE OF THE NIGHT LIZARD

2010-12-17T00:12:00.006Z

I talked about 'deleted scenes' a while ago, and here's my latest one. It's the original start to something I've almost finished working on, a sort-of superhero story about a vigilante who goes around beating up drunks and lowlifes in a small American town:

The man, inebriated to the point of violence, roughly dragged an attractive young lady into an alleyway. She tried to scream and cry for help but he kept slapping her into silence. “Shut up,” he snarled. “You owe me this.”

“Please…” She was barely out of her teens, dressed for summer despite the cold, brunette and petite. “Please let me go; I promise I won’t tell anyone!”

The man – himself somewhere in his thirties and with a face that was no stranger to violence – shoved her to the dirty ground and started to undo his belt buckle. “Make one more sound and I’ll kill you.”

Despite slurring half the sentence, the threat had the desired effect on the girl, who scooted back against the wall and tried not to allow the sounds of her crying to spill out into actual words. As the man leered closer she choked out: “No…”

The man’s eyes flared with rage and he grabbed a handful of her hair. “What did I just say?”

“Leave her alone.” The voice that came from the nearby shadows wasn’t deep or menacing, yet had enough force behind it to cause the man to let go of the girl.

“Who’s there?” He squinted into the darkness. “I’ll give you five seconds to f---”

The words died on his lips as someone – or something – stepped from the shadows. It was of average height and build, but covered entirely in black: black boots, black jeans, black long-sleeved top, black gloves…but the thing that made the drunk question if it was human or not was the weird head. Again, it was black but had gaps in it, a bit like a skull, but its shape was more snout-like, more…reptilian.

Remembering he was filled with alcohol (so impervious to everything) the man pushed the girl against the wall and turned to face the stranger. “What the fuck are you supposed to be?”

“I might go easy on you,” it said, “if you let the girl go.”

“Fuck off, weirdo.” The drunk laughed to himself and returned his attention to the girl.

She uttered a shriek when the drunk cursed loudly and stumbled backwards. The man…creature…whatever he or it was…lunged for the drunk and proceeded to pummel him with its fists whilst shouting. She flinched with every hit, but couldn’t look away.

Eventually, the stranger stood up and staggered away from the drunk. He turned to the girl and said, “Have you got a phone?”

“Yes…”

“Call the police. I’ll watch over you until they arrive. Don’t worry -- you’re safe now.”

She scrambled to her feet and took a step closer to him. She could see that his ‘face’ was actually some sort of mask/helmet, under which he wore a balaclava. “Who are you?”

The stranger started to walk back into the shadows. “They call me…The Night Lizard!”

This is a little too goofy, plus the girl then describes all this in a police interview, so I've started the story with that instead. A little oddly, for a story about a costumed nutcase, he doesn't appear that often in it. With The Inexorable Rise of The Night Lizard I want to examine what it might be like if some normal guy dressed up like a superhero and existed in a 'real world' situation...whoa hang on a minute!

Yes, I know the obvious reference point is KICK-ASS (which I really enjoyed) not to mention similar films such as Defendor and the one starring the guy from The Rocker (I think it's called The Crimson Bolt), but this is that old chestnut of having come up with the idea ages ago, plus it's only a surface similarity...KICK-ASS was still comic booky (in that the hero gets a 'superpower' of dulled pain response from all his beatings, and the other characters act and fell like comic book characters - not making any kind of point, just saying). The Night Lizard is operating in a sleepy little town. What's the point of his existence? If a real superhero (or costumed vigilante) existed, there'd be no point in him hanging around some place where drunkenness is the only real 'crime'...yet The Night Lizard has to protect such a town. Why? Well hopefully the actual story will get picked up somewhere and you'll be able to find out that our plucky hero is both mentally disturbed (not in an obvious way) and headed down a decidedly non-comic booky path ;) oooooo!

REV. AUSTIN'S MILDLY ASTOUNDING [MP3] MIXTAPE!

2010-12-12T10:26:00.004Z

A recent conversation (if posting on the internet can class as a 'conversation') with some chums has resulted in us all making a list of our top 13 albums, and a subsequent compilation featuring one track off each album to swap, so as to broaden our musical horizons and show each other what cool music we like. I thought it might be nice to share my own comp with the whole internet, and all my loyal readers, so here it is! Oh, and I might also make this a regular thing - regular as in'I'll do it more than once'.

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=DM4VDOTH - part a (about 30MB)

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=KNIHQPMU - part b (about 30MB)

I picked 13 albums that I can listen to pretty much in their entirety and not feel like missing one or two songs out. There are some startling omissions of bands/artists I love to bits (eg no Angelo Badalamenti, FrontLine Assembly or Nick Cave) but that's because I wanted to try and pick a good mix of stuff, not just baroque lounge or industrial electronica :D My top 13 albums, and the songs I've put on the comp are:

MEOW MEOW - SNOW GAS BONES. Song: Cracked.

Some of the tracks on the comp are my favourite ones off whichever album, but generally I've tried to pick a tune that sums up that album. 'Cracked' is an example of this; fuzzy indie pop rock with Beach Boy vocals meets Sonic Youth noise, like a lot of the album. Very nice.

THE EGG - TRAVELATOR. Song: Ben Hur.

Ridiculously uplifting funky jazz, with daft samples and a cheeky sense of humour. When I saw these playing at Glastonbury years ago, they ended this song with a really loud sample of someone shouting "TWAT!"

SKELETONS AND THE KINGS OF ALL CITIES - LUCAS. Song: Hay W'Happens.

Wonky jazz meets experimental Americana. This album is utterly terrifying, and this song's perhaps the most monged one off it.

FLEET FOXES - FLEET FOXES. Song: Your Protector.

Sounds like a bunch of medieval hippies playing country music.

THE PAPER CHASE - NOW YOU ARE ONE OF US. Song: ...And All the Candy You Can Eat.

A thoroughly sinister album of guitar and piano skronk, peppered with horror movie samples and crackly radio transmissions. John Congleton's lyrics are hard to beat, with warped fairy tale references and a bitter sense of humour that I find wholly appealing.

POP WILL EAT ITSELF - DOS DEDOS MIS AMIGOS. Song: Everything's Cool.

The much-maligned PWEI released this album as their swansong and confused a lot of their 'crusty' fans. Suddenly, they weren't the goofy grebos of their last few albums, but a (fairly) serious band with a dark industrial heart.

37500 YENS - Astero. Song: Chapitres.

A recent edition to my 'favourite albums' list. They're an almost entirely instrumental French two-piece (guitar and drums) with mathrock sensibilities that spill over into jazz and noisecore tendencies.

FOETUS- FLOW. Song: Someone Who Cares

JG Thirlwell wears so many musical hats it's a wonder he hasn't squashed his head down into his neck. Foetus is generally industrial jazz (or at least, used to be) and this album is the best mix of those styles, if you ask me. Like dirty blues sang by a drunk tramp with metal limbs.

KARMA TO BURN - KARMA TO BURN. Song: Mt. Penetrator.

I love this band. LOVE THEM. Whiskey-and-cigarettes stoner with songs about Appalachian women, nameless gunslingers and all sorts of really cool stuff. This is one of their grooviest songs, although almost everything they do is really groovy. Apparently they were forced to get a vocalist for this record for it to be released (they got rid of him/he left after this was recorded) which is a damn shame because he's got an amazing voice, and way with lyrics.

PIGFACE - A NEW HIGH IN LOW. Song: Nutopia.

Pigface are the very definition of 'supergroup' as their revolving door band member policy means each album sounds quite different to each other, but all underpinned by Martin Atkins utterly incredible drumming and production. This album revealed a wholly new take on industrial music that owed more to dub than electronics.

GODFLESH - LOVE AND HATE IN DUB. Song: Frail [Now Broken].

Sludgy industrial pioneers Godflesh took their incredible hip-hop-flavoured album Songs of Love and Hate and de-constructed it into the pummelling and creepy Love and Hate in Dub. The drums and bass become the main instruments, with desolate guitar feedback and bleak vocals swimming around in the background to give you the willies.

THE DILLINGER ESCAPE PLAN - IRE WORKS. Song: Dead as History.

I think 'Milk Lizard' is my favourite song off this album, but this tune captures all the elements that make it so great: glitchy electronica, screams, heavy guitar, jazz, and a surprising level of accessibility.

ADMIRAL ANGRY - BUSTER. Song: Sex With a Stranger.

Monstrous, bleak, disgustingly heavy. The end.

Usual copyright disclaimer gubbins: the whole point of this mixtape is to spread the word of bands you might not otherwise have heard of, or bother with. If you like what you hear, track down the band/album :)

If anyone feels like making their own mixtape, let me know! I'm always interested in what other people listen to, if it's not bog standard in any way. Or maybe even if it is bog standard, who knows?

ABOUT AS FILLING AS A BOTTLE OF POP

2010-12-07T10:09:00.004Z

I prefer Burger King to McDonalds, but I don't think I could subsist on nothing but BK. I do, however, think I could live on nothing but Pizza Hut. SORORITY ROW is Pizza Hut.

Unfortunately, it soon turns out that this is a Pizza Hut that only sells Margherita pizzas, which are nice for a change and when you don't want anything too fancy, but soon gets boring.

The starter menu isn't too fussy, presenting as it does an extended set-up to events: a group of sorority sisters play an exceptionally mean-spirited prank on their friend's cheating boyfriend, which ends up inadvertently costing the girl her life. After A LOT of standing around and arguing, they dump the body down a mineshaft and try to get on with their lives.

It takes far too long for the main course to arrive: it's almost 40 minutes from the start of the film before the killer actually appears and starts whittling down the cast. Is it worth the wait? Yes and no. The kills range from the boring (being stabbed) to the unpleasant (a girl gets a bottle rammed down her throat) with none of the playfulness of earlier slasher films such as Friday The 13th's sleeping bag kills or the tension of Michael Myers' relentless stalking. This killer wears a black cloak and gown (obvious/not scary) and kills using a modified tire iron (as this was used to kill the girl at the start). They also have unerring aim when throwing something that evidently carries a bit of weight. Perhaps there's a Slasher Olympics? That might be worth making into a film.

And then it's onto the dessert. I felt like I'd ordered a chocolate fudge cake and got one of those steam-in-the-microwave chocolate puddings instead. There are the usual array of red herring suspects (the dead girl's boyfriend? her sister? one of the main girls?) but it turns out to be someone utterly ridiculous, and feels like a "Haha! You didn't see that one coming!" No we didn't, because it doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Sure, the killer explains their "motive" (and I use that term vveerryyy loosely) but it's balls, frankly. I haven't felt so disappointed in a killer's reveal since I endured Valentine.

Sorority Row has very little wit, features largely unlikeable and contradictory characters (whose personalities turn on a dime if the plot requires it) and far too much standing/sitting around arguing about things and being bitchy to each other. I suppose in that respect the filmmakers have perfectly captured the spirit of a girls' sorority, but when it pads out the runtime of a horror film, it's not much fun. Yes, there're tits on display, but it feels like a necessary evil, rather than the joyful boobnanza of 1980's horror films (where they tend to pop out at any given time). And Carrie Fisher gets in effect an extended cameo, for no real reason other than to be a bit of a 'badass' housemother with a shotgun.

So if this is Pizza Hut with incompetent staff and a bare bones menu, I think I'd rather live off the cinematic equivalent of Pizza Express, where a sorority plays an integral part but there's also genuine charm and imagination on display. Yes, I'm talking about my favourite film ever, Night of the Creeps. I'd never get sick of eating at THAT restaurant!

THIS IS ALL THE COOL STUFF I'VE GOT GOING ON RIGHT NOW

2010-12-03T12:34:00.007Z

Boy oh boy that's a boring blog headline, but I figured I was about due for a Ronseal one, so there it is. Magnificent.

I thought I'd make a kind of 'update' post that features - are you ready for this? - all the cool stuff I've got going on right now. And there we have it. It's all been splurged over a few posts, some of which have now disappeared off this page, so here goes! In order of coolness (maybe) -->

Joint 1st place) My short story, PAPA CROW [in which a dead husband returns to his family in the body of a scarecrow], did rather well in the [viewable by members only] 6th Annual Cafe Doom comp, and I've now rejigged the beginning everso slightly (to remove the clunkiness that Jon pointed out) and I've also changed the end so, hopefully, it tugs on the ol' heartstrings a bit more than the misplaced 'haha I'll subvert your expectations of how this should end!' original ending. Started subbing it to pro markets [and I'm crossing every single crossable part of my body].

A sidenote/musing: I'm now aware of just what sort of impact having an army (even a small one) of slush readers/editors for a zine/site/what-have-you has on said zine/site/what-have-you, and the subs they get. ie enough of the people involved need to like your story for it to get anywhere - doesn't matter if it blows everything ever out the water for one person - if no one else likes it that much then it's...dun dun deerr...dead in the water. Two water comparisons in one sentence. A new record!

Just as the CD comp gave a lot of folks an insight into what it's like been an editor, the selection/final judging process gave a peek behind-the-scenes of the more professional markets (in this case SHOCK TOTEM). Since I started editing anthologies, I realised how easy it is for an editor to send form rejections out when they have to deal with a shedload of subs in a short space of time, so I don't feel annoyed when I get one myself now, and I'll also take some solace from the fact I may not get into a particular publication if they have a few slush readers, because it's entirely possible they liked it, just not enough of them. That's not to say I expect rejection, or even embrace it. You manaic! Why would I do that?

Oh, and it's also raised an interesting, and recurring point: I don't know whether I should mention to prospective publishers that it was in the CD comp and performed admirably. On the one hand, it's worth boasting about, but on the other hand (as with my novel submissions) even though I've had some really nice stuff said about it, ultimately it hasn't been picked up, so that's the thing other publishers will look at. Plus 'they don't want me to tell them what to think about it'. It's a conundrum, all right!

1b) Someone's reviewed M Is For Monster, the horror antho I'm in with a bunch of really cool, top writers, and had this to say about my story!!! -->

S is for Stymphalian Bird – Wayne Goodchild - 14 Pages
John Hathaway is a collector of historical curiosities and supposed mythological artefacts. Because of his relative wealth, he has been able to put aside much of his life and money towards collecting these oddities. His latest acquisition is a curious metallic feather, viciously sharp to the touch and supposedly from the mystical Stymphhalin Bird. Shortly after John has returned to the home he shares with his wife, Miranda, a strange influx in horrific deaths begin to take place around the community. Deaths that are being linked to a mysterious flock of crane like birds, with beaks and feathers as sharp as knives...

With a premise hailing from the likes of the glorious creature feature pulp-horror novels of the 70’s and 80’s, this action packed soiree into the return of a mystical and terrifying bird is a non-stop rollercoaster ride of edge-of-the-seat excitement from start to end. The attacks are frenzied and thrilling; the interwoven characters and their response to the threat, bursting with tension. This truly is an unrelenting short tale quivering at the rafters with untameable horror thrills. Superb!

2) The Scroll of Anubis is now available via my Amazon Author Page. This was the second anthology I got accepted for, so I'm chuffed to bits it's finally here. My story in it is called EGYPT, PA and takes place in the titular town (which really exists!) as two kids on the verge of leaving their childhood behind uncover a terrifying conspiracy growing in the heart of the suburbs.

3) I've opened submissions to Attack of the 50ft Book. I'm after stories featuring giant monsters, of pretty much any description. Stories don't need to all involve destruction and carnage though. I'm particularly interested in stuff incorporating a pulp feel, as well as cross-genre stuff. Details can be found HERE!

And that's ya lot, now F**K OFF!

WE INTERRUPT YOUR REGULAR GOINGS-ON WITH SOMETHING MORE IMPORTANT!

2010-12-01T12:57:00.004Z

SCROLL OF ANUBIS IS NOW AVAILABLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My story, Egypt, PA. is in this. It concerns a couple of young friends as they discover something terrible has come to town...and it features MUMMIES! In fact, the whole book's about MUMMIES!!!

Until it pops up on my author page you can get it HERE.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!

ATTACK OF THE 50FT BOOK!

2010-12-01T00:49:00.003Z

THE LIBRARY OF FANTASY PRESENTS:

DAMN STRAIGHT!

From Godzilla to Stay Puft, Cthulhu to the Iron Giant, giant monsters have been portrayed as everything from saviours of mankind to the ultimate destructors, and even tragic, misunderstood figures. Now we're asking YOU to send us your best giant monster stories!

Reference points: Godzilla / King Kong / Lovecraft / Deep Rising / Night of the Crabs / Steve Niles' Giant Monster/ Kingdom of the Ants / The Relic / You get the idea...

Giant robots are more than welcome, but remember this is coming out under the Fantasy imprint so your best bet is to avoid using spaceships/aliens/distant planets. Sword n Sorcery/High Fantasy is of course also welcome, but try to avoid obvious staples of those genres.

WORD COUNT:
A firm 3K - 7K

PAYMENT:
1cent p/word + 1 contributor copy

DEADLINE:
1st March 2011 (so plenty of time to submit something )

FORMAT:
Times New Roman or Courier 12pt font, please.
One press of the TAB to indent a new paragraph.
Double-spaced.
Italics should be italics NOT underlined, please.
NO headers or footers except on first page [include an approx. word count along with your name/address/email].

Please, please don't use any fancy formatting as it drives me absolutely nuts (eg extra space between paragraphs, coloured “attention-grabbing” fonts, etc).

OTHER STUFF:
NO multiple subs.
NO reprints.
Simultaneous submissions are a-okay with me, provided you do me the courtesy of telling me if it gets accepted elsewhere.

Send all submissions to fiftyfootbook[at]gmail[dot]com and I’ll send you a needlessly exuberant ‘Story received!!!’ email. If you don’t get one within 4 days of submitting, please query. Please ATTACH submissions as a .doc or .rtf file to your email. DO NOT SEND ME YOUR STORY IN ANY OTHER FORMAT. Not docx or pdf or any other crazy crap. Thank you!

Please don’t query as to the status of your story until after the deadline, because if there’s one thing guaranteed to crumble my biscuits it’s impatient little monkeys Having said that, I’m going to try and read the subs as they come in for this one so I might well send rejections out before the 1st of March. If you sub and don’t hear anything before the deadline assume you’re shortlisted, but don’t get all cocky

Anyone who doesn’t follow these guidelines will have their story dumped in toxic waste and turned into a giant rejection monster, which will then stomp all other publishers you send stuff to, thereby eliminating your chances of a happy life.

Good luck!!!

Wayne Goodchild
Editor

nb. And as is fast becoming my custom…Bonus Editor Points to anyone who decimates Scunthorpe in their story

ALMOST...BUT NOT QUITE

2010-11-30T17:33:00.007Z

So the 6th ANNUAL CAFE DOOM SHORT STORY COMP has now officially ended, and the winners have been posted HERE.

I came 6th out of the top 8, as picked by the Shock Totem team *insert sad face here* but I did come top of the public votes, so I guess that counts for something *insert happy face here*, and at least now I know ST aren't keen on stories in which a dead husband comes back to life in the body of a scarecrow *insert relevant face here*

I think now I just need to find a relevant site or zine that agrees with the public, and not other editors. SHAZAM!

edit: I think that might sound a bit snooty, which is very unbecoming for me, whoops. So here's a more typical Potato blog version -->

After utterly destroying the other saps in the public vote section of the 6TH ANNUAL CAFE DOOM SHORT STORY COMPETITION with my unbridled awesomeness, I choose to dial my godlike powers down a few notches so that some other very deserving writers could have a bash at the exultation I suffer every day of my incredible life.

Subsequently, I placed 6th overall, which is still better than nothing, and was a top pick of Ed, who runs CD. And because I'm a crawly-crawly bum-lick, I'll also mention that Ken from Shock Totem (the sponsors) put me in his top three picks...so my powers, even when muted, still have almost as much potency as Ron Jeremy's used underpants.

You can see the results HERE, and hopefully read my story [Papa Crow] somewhere in the near future :)

Yep, that's more like it! I really like jingold's (the winner's) 'fairytale' style of writing and I myself voted her story [Fade to Black] second in my own top three picks. So, as you can see, I have impeccable taste ;)

I got some lovely comments about my piece, and as Ken's mentioned below in the comments, the ending was a bit off (which was almost everyone's main criticism). I thought by subverting the expectation of what should happen to Papa Crow by having him set himself on fire instead would work, but it didn't, so no worries (I won't say what I did originally intend to end the story like in case it ends up somewhere, then you lot won't want to read it :D ).

And that really is HOW for NOW! Stay tuned for an update tomorrow on a BRAND NEW ANTHOLOGY I'm opening up to submissions - it's gonna be MONSTROUS!!!! Oooo how eggsciting!

DONE. LIKE A NAUGHTY SCHOOLBOY

2010-11-28T21:40:00.002Z

Well I've done it; I've finished selecting the stories for A GLITCH IN THE CONTINUUM. It sounds a little trite, like Dermot on the X factor telling the latest hopeless vocalist that they 'gave it their best shot' (but secretly he thinks they're shit), but the final decision was a tough call. I rejected some absolutely solid stories because there were ones I preferred that little bit more. But ahh, such is life in this biz we call show.

What's NEXT? Only another anthology! I'll post details on WEDNESDAY. Oooo very exciting!

And for me? Not much. Got a couple of cool bands on the go, and I'm working on something that was supposed to be a short story but is turning into a massive headfkkk of an idea instead. That's about for it now, I reckon. I think I'm off to bed to watch 2012! Yippee!

NOT MY CUP OF TEA

2010-11-18T16:09:00.003Z

I'm waist-deep in submissions for A GLITCH IN THE CONTINUUM and I'm quite enjoying it. 'Quite' because I don't like sending out rejections. But, it's a necessary evil. Plus, you can't make an omelette without breaking some heads.

I don't get too bothered by rejections myself nowadays, but I do get a bit cheesed by form rejections. Urgh they're the worst! And they plant the seed of doubt that your story wasn't read all the way through. I understand most places do it because it's one heck of a time-saving device but it's still annoying. I'm trying to offer constructive feedback where possible for Glitch, or at least say what I think does work about a particular story, so writers know I have actually read their story :D and I've read all of them so far, even if I skimmed some a bit (because they didn't grab me) but I say so, if that's the case, and why.

Listen to me; I'm a right hero! I even got paid in cake by a co-worker today because I moved a bunch of tables. If that sort of thing can spill over to my editing duties it'd be pretty nifty ;) but seriously...I've already had some very polite responses from rejected authors, but I don't expect it so it's a nice bonus. I'm still waiting for that one unprofessional writer to send me a vehement email though haha oh dear.

Anyways, I've got quite a few more stories left to read - I plan to send my next batch of rejections out tomorrow, if I have time, otherwise I'll have to do it on Saturday or Sunday night. Keep holding your breath, submitted authors! I'll get back to you as soon as I can!

VRRROOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!

SO, WAYNE GOODCHILD, WHAT ARE YOU UP TO THESE DAYS?

2010-11-14T22:29:00.003Z

Thanks for asking, Blog Headline - I'll tell you!

Mainly, I've been reading through submissions for A Glitch in the Continuum (I intend to start sending responses out tomorrow) and also discovering excellent new music.

New music?

Yes, italicized words, new music. I'm a big fan of all sorts of things, from dark, midnight jazz to horrible, monstrous dirge and my top picks for cool bands would have to go to the following:

ADMIRAL ANGRY - truly monstrous. Very, very heavy and hateful. Utterly brilliant!

THE PYSKE PROJECT - metallic doom. Solid sludge with excellent dynamics and off-kilter rhythms.

37500 YENS - jazzy mathrock. Wonky rhythms mixed with a lovely sound. And they're French!

OLD MAN GLOOM - ambient/doom. Part weird soundscapes, part unrelenting hard rock doom. 'Christmas' is an excellent album, with the song 'Volcano' being worth the price of admission alone.

THE KILIMANJARO DARKJAZZ ENSEMBLE - experimental jazz. I can't even tell you how amazing this band is. They mix late-night vibes with electronics and are just incredible.

Interesting. But have you done any writing?

Yes I have. I'm currently working on a superhero story and one set in a place that exists outside time and space but not outside time and space, and is a mash-up of various genres...and could feasibly lend itself to serialization!

Interesting. Say, didn't you enter a writing competition or something?

Yeah I did. The 6th Annual Cafe Doom one, to be exact. I may or may not be doing well in it - I can't wait until everyone finds out which story was mine! And vice versa!

Interesting. Which story is yours?

The one with- hey you cheeky monkey, you tried to trick me!

Yeah I did.

Sneaky bugger.

When do you find out how many chumps liked your story, and how many thought it was utter balls?

Tomorrow, I think. Anyone interested can visit Cafe Doom to see for themselves!

Interesting. I'm bored of you now.

That's very rude you-

I'm stopping this blog entry right now because I'm sick of the sight of your disgusting words. Oh my god you make me wanna puke you fucking scumbag!

No need for that!

There's every need you slimy cock face! You have a face like a cock!

I-

ENDING BLOG ENTRY. BYE, DICK'EAD!

YES, I DO ART!

2010-11-07T12:53:00.003Z

Last year I went to see the BANKSY exhibit/takeover at Bristol Museum, and it was largely really good. Had to wait in the queue for ages, but to keep everyone occupied some arty types handed out pens and cards and invited folks to draw whatever on them whilst they waited.

The results are now in a BOOK! I'm probably in it, since I handed my card in. Or maybe not, I don't know - but I assume I am since I received an email about it, and the only way I could have done that is if the people behind it had my card. So I probably am in it. That's good, isn't it? Yes. Yes, it is good.

You can find out more/order the book HERE. Go on, then!

TRICK OR TREAT, SMELL MY FEET, GIVE ME SOMETHING GOOD TO EAT!

2010-10-31T16:22:00.003Z

It's Halloween! Yippee! Let's start proceedings with a naff metal song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yOAl0enE7kI

Now that's out the way, make yourself comfortable whilst I bombard you with film and game recommendations for this most spooky of days. BOMBARD!!!

IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS (1995) is brilliant. WHY? OH GOD WHY? you scream. The premise is ripped right out of the Twilight Zone but filled with enough ideas and style to make it more, oh so much more: Top-selling horror writer Sutter Cane has disappeared. Insurance investigator John Trent (Sam Neill) is called in to find him and make sure it's not all some sort of hoax. Unfortunately for Trent, and the rest of the world, Cane has found a way to alter reality via his writing.

Although Cane's editor and publishing house make a big deal about how he outsells Stephen King (making King the reference point for Cane's brand of literary horror), I think this film is best summed-up by the notion that it's "the best story H.P. Lovecraft never wrote" (as stated by a critic, but I can't remember who). You get people turning into monsters, stories that can send the reader insane, ancient monstrous gods, the strong suggestion that what's unfolding can not be stopped...it's all solid horror gold.

Sam Neill turns in one of the best performances of his career (but to be fair I can't remember the last film I saw him in where I thought he was rubbish) and most of the supporting actors are also decent. Jurgen Prochnow plays Cane with a streak of blasé arrogance, with just a touch of pity for those who can't appreciate how powerful he is. Julie Carmen isn't bad as Linda Styles, Cane's editor, even though there's a section where it's difficult to tell if she's acting weird because she's being affected by Cane, or if she can't actually act in the manner she's supposed to be acting, if that makes any sense. And you've got Charlton Heston as the boss of the publishing house, who doesn't really do much but then he doesn't need to - he's Charlton Heston!

There's so much to love about IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS that I can't even tell you. And almost all the samples used on the Hard Wired album by industrial band FrontLine Assembly came from this film, which is also pretty cool. "Giving me the power to make it all real" indeed!

TRICK R TREAT is a more recent film (in regards to appearing on DVD - it was actually made in 2007) and follows the citizens of a small American town one Halloween night as their individual stories and paths cross: a family man has a killer secret; a reclusive old man meets a relentless trick or treater; a college girl is apprehensive about her 'first time'; some kids play a mean prank and get their just desserts.

Some of the stories are a little obvious, in that you can guess where they're going before they get there, and there's the feeling that a couple of segue scenes are missing, but other than that TRICK R TREAT is a solid and entertaining horror film with a surprisingly stellar cast. And a cute (and deadly?) main character called Sam (the kid on the poster), who pops up in most of the stories, or hovers on the periphery of them. Which leads me nicely onto my next film:

SATAN'S LITTLE HELPER (2004) tells the darkly humorous story of a young lad, Dougie, who unwittingly teams up with a serial killer who's dressed like his favourite videogame character. Well, I say "unwittingly", but when it becomes apparent how sinister 'Satan Man' is, Dougie's own mental stability is called in to question...

SATAN'S LITTLE HELPER is a really fun film, that relies on black comedy more than gore for it's thrills, and is quite a nice change of pace from a lot of other Halloween-themed horror films. There, that was nice and succinct. What's next?

How about some honourable mentions? --> MORTUARY (2005) is a Lovecraft-tinged film set around...well, a mortuary. It's got it all: creepy black mould, zombies (well, near-enough), an ancient monster, excellent set-design and decent lead actors (let's ignore the sleazy laughing man who ruins the film every time he appears on screen. Seriously, Tobe Hooper, what were you thinking letting this guy act like this?!).

MAN-THING (also 2005): I don't care about all the remarks that this is Marvel's "Swamp-Thing rip-off", or that the blurb on the DVD case has bugger-all to do with the film itself, it's still awesome. When a dodgy oil company starts drilling in the 'dark heart' of a swamp, it awakens Man-Thing, a humanoid plant monster with burning red eyes and a habit of killing people by growing trees out of them. I mean literally growing trees out of their bodies. One of the rare examples where the CGI is handled well (particularly in the Man-Thing 'birth' scene).

That's enough films for now. How about video games? You crazy kids like to play your video games, don't you? Of course you do, it's all kids do nowadays. That, or go to a park and get drunk on cheap cider.

RED DEAD REDEMPTION: UNDEAD NIGHTMARE - just in time for Halloween, it's a sexy zombie add-on for the rootin- tootin' RDR! Saddle up on your undead steed and find out why the Wild West is being overrun with flesh-eating ghouls and partially-rotted animals (not to mention various mythical beasts). The zombies can only be killed by a headshot, which is easy enough when there are only one or two after you, but once they start to swarm...I don't mind telling you that, as with any decent zombie film, that's when things get pretty hairy. Luckily they can't climb ladders so get to a high spot and shoot their bastard heads off. Do it!

DEAD RISING 2 - I'm going to tell you everything you need to know about this incredible zombie game in one gloriously ridiculous sentence: Motocross celebrity Chuck Greene needs to uncover the reason for a zombie outbreak in the Vegas-like Fortune City (and find anti-zombie drugs for his infected daughter), and he can do this whilst wearing a dress and bunny slippers and headbutting zombies to death with a lego head topped by a lawnmower blade.

LIMBO - for a more sedate change of pace, but in a manner that's no less horrific, you could do worse than give this side-scrolling puzzler a go. You're an unnamed boy, wandering a mist-shrouded, monochrome world, looking for his sister. The game looks beautiful, and the sound design (almost no music, practically all ambient fx) is top-notch.

I've yet to complete it, but so far I've wandered through a creepy forest, an industrial zone and a desolate town, all of which merge seamlessly into one another, and all of which contain new ways in which you can die. And you will die - a LOT. There are hazards and enemies just waiting to impale, eviscerate, decapitate or drown you. Plus, some of the deaths can be caused in a brilliantly sadistic manner, in that the thing that crushes you is supposed to be the thing that helps you continue on...if only you'd stepped to the left a little quicker...But every time you restart a short distance away, so that you can learn from your mistake and carry on.

But, is this possible because you're playing a videogame, or because the world the boy is in allows him to suffer violent death over and over again? Exactly where is he? Early on, you'll encounter other people, and there's a disturbing suggestion they're also children...but these are followed by worms that stick to your head and force you to walk like a zombie in one direction, and giant spiders that stalk and creep towards you at a deceptively fast pace. None of the puzzles are mind-bending, but they will tax your noodle a bit. Interestingly, quite a few can be 'solved' via physical manipulation, eg running from one side of a beam to another so that it rocks high enough for you to jump off and onto another beam.

I get the distinct feeling that I'm not going to like it when I reach the end and find out where the boy is, but this is precisely why I want to get to the end. Is this how the game really tortures the player? I think so.

Phew! What a massive post! I think I'll go downstairs and see if my housemate wants a hand getting things ready for tonight. Happy Halloween, scumbags!

DEAD! ON! EARTH!

2010-10-29T09:51:00.004+01:00

We interrupt your regularly scheduled internet browsing to inform you that aliens have appeared and unleashed the zombie apocalypse upon the earth.

So goes the general outline for a new graphic novel called DEAD ON EARTH: BEGINNINGS (available for your Kindle HERE). It takes the form of diary/journal entries of various characters as they describe the events leading up to and during the aforementioned alien/zombie powwow. It also features an introduction by none other than JONATHAN MABERRY!!!! C'mon, you know who is. His books are in WHSMITH!!!!!!

I, unfortunately, had to drop out of the project because I couldn't give it the time and attention it deserved, but Clarke (the chap behind it) has been very cool about it all and a thoroughly professional chap. My character is/was Jake Lynch, a preacher from the UK who was travelling across the States. Hopefully, I will get the chance to finish his particular story at some point because I had a chunk of it mapped out, and it was pretty sinister (you get a glimpse of what he's capable of within his first few entries)...

Clarke's also set up a DOE store, which you can check out HERE (and stuff featuring Jake Lynch is on it HERE). If you need something to read on one of your fancy ebook whatsits, and you like zombies, comics, multi-strand narratives and apocalyptic fiction, you can't go far wrong with DEAD ON EARTH. No. No, you can't. Get it already!

SO HALLOWEEN'S COMING UP

2010-10-28T09:49:00.003+01:00

What, you didn't know? Where have you been, under a rock or something?

I'm going to celebrate this most prestigious of occasions by extolling the virtues of (ie gushing about) some of my favourite horror films, starting with In The Mouth of Madness. Later. Right now, I need to finish making THE PUMPKIN OF UNSPEAKABLE HORROR - if anyone's bored on Saturday, take a drive to Scunthorpe, to 20-21 Visual Arts Centre, where you'll get to see my pumpkin and a bunch of other ones. Yeah you will. It'll be worth it, too!

I might also vomit forth praise for some horror-related things, like computer games and books, but only if I can be bothered. What? This is my blog. If I can't be arsed, I can't be arsed. Suck it up and carry on, soldier!

SEXY DEATH

2010-10-27T17:29:00.005+01:00

The building was old, narrow, tall. Maybe four floors, but the gap between them wasn't consistent so it was difficult to tell. A narrow pathway ran down the side of the building, with overgrown trees and bushes on the left of it. The building only had windows looking out over the pathway, and not all of them had glass in. Every level was one long narrow room, filled with miscellaneous junk and dust. Bare floorboards. Bare walls.

A small, old doll lay just inside the entrance, covered in a dry brown, brittle-looking growth, like dead sponge. Although I'm sure it was dead I didn't want to touch it, because I strongly suspected it might turn out to be a dormant fungus. There was someone else in the building with me; a woman, I think. A friend whose name I'd forgot. The second/middle floor had an old tv and Megadrive games system in it. We fought over the controls.

I couldn't access the top floor from inside, so I clambered up the side of the building. Most of the top windows were filled with birds, sleeping in nests. They were all regimented and ordered, something that shouldn't have been possible naturally, which asked two questions. The first: if it was natural, what did this say about the intelligence of the birds responsible? Secondly: who would come to an otherwise abandoned building purely to neatly organise bird nests, on a floor you couldn't reach from inside the building?

Most of the birds appeared to be pigeons. I looked in one uncovered nest to see a batch of eggs. One had turned black. In a nearby nest a pigeon woke up and stared at me. It had a black-feathered face. The other birds looked like they might be blackbirds, though they were all asleep - unless they didn't have heads at all. Their feathers shone with the sort of rainbow that plays across the surface of oil.

Something else about the house - it made want to tear the woman apart and make love to the remains.

The most surprising thing is, I wasn't even dreaming.

THE EXPLOITS OF MY EXCITING MEETING WITH WRITER MICHAEL MARSHALL SMITH IN A MOST UNEXPECTED MANNER THAT WAS UNEXPECTED!

2010-10-22T14:13:00.007+01:00

So there I was shopping for books in a large bookstore, for it was my day off and I decided that I wanted to visit somewhere that sold books and a large bookstore seemed like a sensible place to go. I was busy perusing the horror fiction section (which was sandwiched between the erotic and vampire sections in a manner I found both obscene and thrilling) when I accidentally bumped into a well-dressed chap beside me.

"Oh, pardon me!" I said. "Sorry!"

"That's quite all right," the man said, stooping to pick up the book he had formerly held in his hand but had recently dropped to the floor from his hand, when I accidentally bumped into him whilst perusing the adjacent books. I immediately recognised him as being Michael Marshall Smith, author of such notable cross-genre books as Only Forward and Spares. I recognised him because he'd dropped one of these books, I forget which one, and it had fallen open on his mugshot.

"You're Michael Marshall Smith!" I exclaimed, in the hope that I had just cured some form of amnesia he may or may not have been suffering from. "I find your work to be imaginative and excellent, but not necessarily in that order. It's a real pleasure to meet you. But I have to ask: Why are you buying your own book?"

As he shook my hand he narrowed his handsome eyes and said, "I'm trying to convince this bookstore I'm more popular than that woman who writes the Twilight books. Maybe then they'll put in an 'alternate reality/sci-fi/fantasy/pulp/humour' section."

"One can only I hope, " said, nodding sagely.

"Wait a minute, " he said then. "You look awfully familiar. Are you Wayne Goodchild, otherwise known as Reverend Austin?"

Delighted, I couldn't help but beam like a hyperactive lighthouse, or a happy child full of radioactive fuel. "Yes, that's me all right!"

Once again shaking my hand he said, "I've heard you're a pretty funny guy."

"No," I said, "I'm not."

He went home disappointed.

THE END.

HOW FAR CAN TOO FAR GO?

2010-10-20T11:21:00.002+01:00

Submissions are now open for THROUGH THE WORMHOLE: BILL AND WAYNE'S FAR OUT SPACE TALES, to be published by the Library of Science Fiction...

Editors : Myself & Bill Tucker

We want your most gnarly, whacked-out and downright mondo science fiction stories. We want you to really cut loose and give us scenarios we've never seen before.

We don't want to see any obvious staples like 'people answer a distress call to find a spaceship drifting empty through space...or is it?!' or 'a new friendly alien race turn out to be evil' or anything like that. Be fresh, be creative, be utterly mental.

We're also not after bizarro - but you are encouraged to take your story as far as it can go before it actually becomes that genre (i.e. surreal, but still grounded in reality).

Other than that, the usual genres are welcome, and stories can be set anywhere or anywhen, provided it's fundamentally science fiction.

Word limit: a very firm 4K - 7K words

Payment: 1 cent p/word + 1 contributor copy

NO reprints
NO multiple submissions

Simultaneous submissions are okay, but please do us the courtesy of letting us know if your story gets accepted elsewhere.

Format:

Put name/by-line, approx word count, postal address and email address at the top of the first page.

NO headers on any other pages, please.

Indent by 1 press of the TAB key to start a new paragraph.

NO fancy formatting. Sometimes people have their writing software set up so it adds extra space between lines and/or paragraphs. Please remove anything like this, as it's really annoying. Thank you!

Other than this, usual Shunn manuscript rules apply.

Send submissions to wormholeantho[at]gmail[dot]com

Deadline is March 1st 2011 so plenty of time to work on something!

Further details and discussion can be found on the Library forum! http://libraryofthelivingdead.lefora.com/2010/10/20/through-the-worm-hole-submissions-open

THE TIME HAS COME TO...GALVANISE!

2010-10-18T09:26:00.004+01:00

NEWSFLASH! Richard Kelly's third directorial feature THE BOX wasn't as bad as I expected it to be. Initial signs weren't good, though: for one thing, putting James Marsden in your film's always going to be a bit of a gamble. He's the sort of charisma black hole that makes his appearance as Cyclops in the X-Men films feel like stunt-casting, and if you put him in a room with Hayden Christensen they'd cancel each other out.

In THE BOX, he plays Arthur Lewis, a Nasa...somethingorother. Engineer, I think. He helped develop an optic lense for a space camera, or something. But really, all he seems to do is make prosthetic feet for his wife, Norma (Cameron Diaz) - in a needlessly convoluted bout of exposition, Arthur explains that Norma has a deformed foot, not for a simple reason like birth defect or burn wound, but because she dropped a dumbbell on it, and then when she was getting x-rayed in the hospital, the doctor left the machine on and irradiated her toes so they had to be amputated. The actual point of all this nonsense is to reveal that all she got in the way of compensation was $10, 000. WHAT AN INJUSTICE!

We're supposed to care about Arthur and Norma, and feel sorry for their money troubles and hard-done-by life, so that we're more willing to accept the incredibly simple premise of the actual film: Here's a box with a button on it. Press the button and you'll get $1million...and someone you don't know will die.

I try to avoid spoilers but I'm going to have to mention the 80's Twilight Zone episode, and the original story this film mutated from so be warned. In the TZ show, the family aren't exactly well-to-do, so we believe they're willing to risk killing a stranger to get their hands on some dough. In the original story, the husband gets pushed in front of a train, and the insurance money is the amount the wife's been promised. The caveat is "How well do any of us really know someone?"

Not so in THE BOX. Arthur works for NASA for crying out loud. How are we supposed to believe he's not getting a nice amount of money, especially if he helped build a bloody space camera. And then there's Norma, who's a teacher, and she's losing her 'teacher discount' (I have no idea what this actually pertains to). Fair enough, she makes the comment that they're living 'pay cheque to pay cheque', as so many people tend to do, but any and all sympathy you might have for this couple goes right out the window when she comments that the £1million would really let them have the life they want. Not a better quality of life, but the life they want.

"Ah!" you say, possibly clicking your fingers in realisation. "They're spoilt brats! I have no sympathy for these people!"

Norma's parents are clearly well-off, so that's undoubtedly supposed to explain her desire for 'nice things'. But there's no suggestion they wouldn't help her out, financially, so why is there any real need for her to worry about money? And Arthur drives a ridiculously flash car. Sell it, mate. There's this thing called 'downsizing'.

And who dies as a result of Norma pressing the button? I'm not entirely sure. This is where it starts to get confusing. A lot of people have been, and are being, offered The Box and the money, so a lot of people are dying all over the place as a result of other people pressing buttons. Possibly. There's no real indication who Norma and Arthur 'killed', except at the end when...well, I won't spoil the actual ending for you.

If I remember correctly, in the original story, and I think the TZ episode, we either don't get to find out who's behind The Box, or it's possibly the government. In THE BOX, it's aliens. There, I've said it. Aliens. They're testing the human race to see if they should expppzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

HUH? WHAT?! Oh sorry, I kinda zoned-out there for a while. Something about watery gateways, and the afterlife, and...something. Or something.

To it's credit, THE BOX turns into a mutant conspiracy thriller (that is, it's a weird version of a conspiracy thriller, not a conspiracy thriller about mutants, which might actually be quite good) but the downside to this is that it adds a whole load of superfluous guff to proceedings. There is absolutely no need for the alien angle at all, as it doesn't add anything to the film except a sense of confusion. Something about the Mars Project, and lightning putting a man in contact with aliens, and...you get the idea. Well, no you won't, but you can at least marvel at the disgusting wallpaper in Arthur and Norma's house.

THE BOX is a prime example of the source material not warranting a full-length movie. And instead of crafting a lean paranoid thriller with supernatural undertones, Richard Kelly vomits his science fiction obsessions over the script (which he wrote) and tries to be interesting, but comes across as desperate. Aliens! You can't trust anybody! They're going to kill everyone! No, wait, they're going to take everyone to a better place! Hang on, they're malevolent! No, benevolent! Look at me! Look at what I'm doing! I can be good again; I promise Donnie Darko wasn't a fluke! Just keep giving me money and continue to not let anyone else read my scripts!

Oh Richard, you're not a terrible filmmaker, not at all. You have a fine imagination, but it lacks focus. THE BOX isn't a terrible film, it's just not very good. And I'm not angry with you - I'm disappointed.

OPOPANAX AND BLEEDING FOOTSIES

2010-10-17T14:09:00.006+01:00

I found Stephen King's Dark Tower saga so enjoyable I didn't want it to end. So I stopped reading it. I put the seventh (and supposedly final) book down when I was only half-way through it, and have never picked it up again. One of the things that so gripped and fascinated me about the Dark Tower story is that it is absolutely huge, and quite mind-boggling in its intricacies. With it, King had woven threads between and through pretty much every single thing he'd ever written, tying apparently unrelated threads together to form the world's biggest and craziest jumper.

BLACK HOUSE links directly into the Dark Tower saga, but not until quite a way into the hefty 600+ pages. To start with it feels like a mystery/thriller, before mutating into a sort of horrific fantasy, which took me by surprise let me tell you.

A serial killer dubbed 'The Fisherman' is targeting the children in and around the Wisconsin town of French Landing. But he doesn't just kill them - he eats parts of their bodies, in an echo of notorious murderer Albert Fish's M.O.

A few years before The Fisherman appeared, former homicide detective Jack "Hollywood" Sawyer retired to French Landing after helping the chief of police, Dale Gilberston, apprehend another killer who lived in the town. As a favour to his old friend, and his best friend Henry (Dale's blind uncle), Jack agrees to help the FLPD hunt for The Fisherman.

But what caused Jack to retire at the ridiculously early age of 31? And what is it about his past that links him to The Fisherman?

BLACK HOUSE is a sequel to King and Straub's first collaboration THE TALISMAN, but I haven't read that and I don't think it's necessary too either, as BLACK HOUSE is largely self-contained, and the references to the previous book are explained well enough so you're not sat scratching your head.

In that book, Jack Sawyer was a young boy who was involved in a quest to help his dying mother. His journey took him to the Territories, a sort-of alternate/parallel reality that's a bit like a fantastical Wild West. BLACK HOUSE sees him journeying there again, in a bid to help protect the Dark Tower itself.

BLACK HOUSE is a frustrating book. The characters are all excellent, with the main trio of Dale, Jack and Henry being the stand-outs (as you'd expect). King and Straub pepper the story with an insane amount of other characters, some of whom appear briefly, but almost all play an important part in the grand scheme of things. There's also some decidedly affecting emotional tugs along the way, particularly once Jack and his friends start to close in on The Fisherman.

What is less excellent is the overall style of the book. King/Straub choose to use a third-person omniscient narrative form that allows us, the reader, to see and experience things the characters themselves aren't aware of. On the one hand, it helps to build tension and suspense as we're told of someone stalking another person, for instance, but on the flipside it ruins the fictive dream the moment the narrator (which is actually the joint voice of both authors) makes a point of following someone else, and thereby reminding you you're reading a book.

Thankfully, it doesn't ruin the overall experience - generally speaking, the story and execution is top-notch - but it does serve to keep breaking the flow and pulling you out of the action...sometimes literally. However, I will mention the cheeky author intrusion at the end of the book that invites you to stop reading, unless you want to see what the last few pages have in store. I did think that was actually pretty cool.

It's also difficult to tell quite how much of this story is down to Straub. The Dark Tower, and it's related environs, is a resolutely King-created proposition. I've only read one collection of Straub's stories, and remember they were generally quite strange, so maybe he created the book's monstrous villain Mr Munshun? Or suggested The Fisherman's M.O.? Admittedly, the point of a collaboration is that it's, well, a collaboration, so it shouldn't sound too much like one author over another, and trying to separate the voices and ideas is a fairless pointless endeavour. But it's difficult not to wonder...

BLACK HOUSE has well-developed characters, and even shines the spotlight on ones you wouldn't normally pay much attention to. It's core story is sinister and gruesome, and its plot is interesting and involving. It weaves literary references through it smartly and smoothly, and adds another exciting dimension to King's Dark Tower saga. Is it a fine example of the talents of Peter Straub? It's difficult to tell, but it certainly lacks a lot of the needless description that occasionally plagues King's work. The best of both worlds? That would have to be up to you to decide, dear reader.

THE DAY OF THE LOCUST?

2010-10-15T09:53:00.004+01:00

There were a few of us gathered in the shelter - it was one of those corrugated metal semi-circle type affairs, such as you find on army barracks and the like. The inside walls were covered in light brown paper, and a scattering of picture frames without pictures in. Outside lurked something more locust than human.

Without warning, it punched a three-clawed insectoid hand and chitinous arm through the wall near us. The limb was significantly bigger than a human's. Again and again it punctured the walls, causing everyone to cry out in shock and horror, and huddle in the centre of the already-cramped quarters.

Then, it punched through the wooden door, leaving a head-sized hole. The only girl in our group - I didn't know her name - approached it. "I want to try and get a look at it," she said. She was thin, not entirely unattractive, with long blonde hair. We all warned her away, but she assured us she wouldn't get too close. But I could see something had caught her attention, and she inched closer and closer...

The arm once again shot through the door, the claws clamping onto the girl's face. With a terrible sucking sound, the hand retreated back through the hole in the door, taking the girl's face with it.

She staggered backwards and collapsed to her knees, thick crimson rivers of gore dribbling from the open wound where her face used to be. We all expressed shock and concern, and she said, "To be honest, it's more sweat than tears."

We then turned and wondered just how long it would take for the locust-man to realise the back of the shelter was completely missing.

-------------------

This is a dream I had recently. I know why I had it: it's two X-Files episodes mangled together; one which featured a room full of locusts, and the other which featured a shapeshifter. Neither were actually scary. I don't remember who was in the shelter with me, or who the girl was but she looked a right mess with her face gone. I don't know why she said what she said either. She didn't appear to be in shock in the dream, was quite matter-of-fact about things, really. She wasn't crying rivers of blood; she was sweating them.

Does it actually mean anything? I don't know, but it was worth recording. Maybe I'll get some sort of story out of it - I once wrote a story that came from a dream about a supposedly-abandoned school, and the people/creatures using it as a base of operations for their diabolical deeds...that also involved doctors?!

Incidentally, the title for this post comes from a late 70's film (that in turn came from a book) starring Donald Sutherland. THE DAY OF THE LOCUST is an interesting film, in that it portrays a thoroughly unhealthy love, er, quadrangle? and is set against the backdrop of the early days of the big movie studios in Hollywood. It examines the way those places devoured people's dreams and aspirations, and made them do anything to get on the silver screen, before going utterly mental at the end.

I watched it because I heard the last fifteen or so minutes are truly surreal and frightening, and they are, but what makes them more effective are the instances of foreshadowing throughout the film...if you watch it, pay particular attention to the main character's evolving/devolving sketch on his apartment wall.

And that's HOW for NOW! Let's see if I can finish BLACK HOUSE by Stephen King and Peter Straub tonight. Then let's see if I can be bothered to do a review! I probably will, because I think it's utterly brilliant. OR DO I?!

NO, I REGRET NOTHING

2010-10-10T12:17:00.000+01:00

The time has come to bid a fond farewell to some very dear friends of mine. They've filled my life with joy and pride (well, one of them has) and many, many fruitless hours of waiting for them to actually DO something. I hoped they'd have children and grow old together, or indulge in a three-way and make some sort of mutant mega-baby, but this never happened. Maybe I cut one of them off in his prime, so the blame lies squarely on my shoulders. The others...never really did anything in the first place so I can't be blamed for their lack of enthusiasm.

So please, join me in bidding farewell to three of the worst pets I ever had, as I set them free in the backyard to get eaten by birds or perhaps ants. Sayonara, LEGS MCKINLEY (Impossibly Fast Snail), PAJAMAS BANDICOOT (Relatively Attractive Snail) and TINY TIM (Very Very Small Snail). We'll always have Acapulco *sniff*

Legs McKinley, pissing all over the competition at the Indoor Snail Racing Championships, 16th July 2010.

THEY CALL ME POTATO

YOU COULDN'T MAKE IT UP!

SSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

LAST MINUTE CALL FOR VOTES! PHOBOPHOBIA NEEDS YOU!

2011 IS THE YEAR WHAT WAS THE YEAR WHAT WAS, BUT WHAT ABOUT 2012?

AND I SHALL GREET FAME AND FORTUNE WITH A DEAD-EYED SMILE

DOUG BRADLEY WAS MY 9TH VICTIM

COMING SOON TO EYEBALLS NEAR YOU

OUTERSPACE AND INTO MY ARMS (OR: QUICK, SOMEONE NAIL DOWN THE MOON!)

DINNER DINNER DINNER BATMAN!

I CAN'T TAKE MY EYES, OFF OF YYOOOUUUUUUUU

THEY CALL ME POTATO NOW CONTAINS A 27% GREATER CHANCE OF HURTING YOUR EYES

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH, NEBRASKAAAAAAAAAA!!!

I FEEL LIKE I ORDERED BEANS ON TOAST AND HAVE BEEN GIVEN A FULL ENGLISH

YET MORE SERIOUS NEWS. GOOD GRIEF!

BAD NEWS. GOOD NEWS. DEAD BOOKS.

WAYNE GOODCHILD IN SERIOUS NEWS SHOCKER! AGAIN!

WAYNE GOODCHILD IN SERIOUS NEWS SHOCKER!

LET'S GET DRUNK AND FKKK EACH OTHER'S BRAINS OUT!

HELP ME TO REMOVE MY SADNESS

AND TONIGHT'S SPECIAL GUEST STAR: MY HOUSEMATE! AND...ART!

LONDON BOOK LAUNCH!!! FOR A BOOK I'M IN!!! WITH SHIT-HOT WRITERS!!!

CAFE DOOM'S SEVENTH ANNUAL WRITING COMP IS NOW GO!

ABOUT TIME YOU SHOWED UP!

SHUT UP, I'M BUSY!

IN SPACE NO ONE CAN HEAR YOU EAT ICE CREAM

WAYNE GOODCHILD'S NOSTALGIA BOMB (AKA ARE ALL MEMORIES WORTH KEEPING?)

IT'S ALL GONE DARK

THE PIGS WILL GET YOU IN THE END

I'VE BEEN RIPPED OFF. SORT OF. ALSO: HELLO, I'M STILL AWAKE!

STICK *THIS* IN YOUR EARS, SUGARTITS!

ANTS! ANTS! ANTS! ANTS! ANTS! ANTS! ANTS! ANTS! ANTS! ANTS! ANTS!

WAYNE GOODCHILD GETS ALL ROMANTIC [REVIEW!!!!]

DAWN OF THE SEXY VAMPIRE [OR IN EUROPE: SEX BLOOD MAGICIANS 2]

IS IT A GHOST? IS IT A MAN? AGGHH! IT'S A HOLOGRAM!

SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION

JOB 41:11

Job 41

CLUNK. CLICK. TRAPPED MY

LONG WEEKEND [NOT THE FILM]

BEHOLD! THE TERROR OF A THOUSAND PAGES!

IT'S QUIET AROUND HERE...PERHAPS EVEN A LITTLE *TOO* QUIET! OR MAYBE NOT QUIET ENOUGH. I DON'T KNOW WHATEVER PISS OFF.

EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT THIS THING I'M SHOUTING ABOUT!

RUMOURS OF MY DEMISE HAVE BEEN COMPLETELY MADE UP.

CRISPIN GLOVER IS MAGIC

IN SPACE, NO ONE CAN HEAR YOU DO VERY MUCH OF ANYTHING. BECAUSE IT'S SPACE.

ARE YOU THE GATEKEEPER?

THE BOOK OF GOODCHILD PART 2

BACK ONCE AGAIN WITH THE RENEGADE MASTER

I ACKNOWLEDGE WAYNE GOODCHILD AS MY LORD AND MASTER, AND ADMIRE HIS TREATMENT OF ANIMALS

I'VE GOT MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO WITH MY TIME THAN TELL EVERYONE ABOUT YOUR STUPID VHS COLLECTION

WITH ALL THOSE BAD WORDS, YOU'LL GIVE ME A COMPLEX

A BIG FAT EFF YOU TO HORROR WRITERS

I GO WHERE NO ORDINARY RABBIT WOULD DARE

LET'S CROAK SOME TOADS!

SEXCITING TIMES!

"WE'RE ALL DOOOOOMED, CAPTAIN MAINWARING!"

THE DEADLINE...APPROACHETHETHETETHHH!!!!

WHERE YA GOIN' NOW?

NIGHT OF THE SEXY VAMPIRE

MODEST SELF-IMPRESSIONS!

NAPPY YEW HEAR!

THE YEAR IN REVIEW!

HOWARD 'F##KING A' LOVECRAFT

REV. AUSTIN'S C##T-KICKING F##K FEST IS GO!

SPARE A THOUGHT FOR POOR OLD BUDDY

THE INEXORABLE RISE OF THE NIGHT LIZARD

REV. AUSTIN'S MILDLY ASTOUNDING [MP3] MIXTAPE!

ABOUT AS FILLING AS A BOTTLE OF POP

THIS IS ALL THE COOL STUFF I'VE GOT GOING ON RIGHT NOW

WE INTERRUPT YOUR REGULAR GOINGS-ON WITH SOMETHING MORE IMPORTANT!

ATTACK OF THE 50FT BOOK!

ALMOST...BUT NOT QUITE

DONE. LIKE A NAUGHTY SCHOOLBOY

NOT MY CUP OF TEA

SO, WAYNE GOODCHILD, WHAT ARE YOU UP TO THESE DAYS?

YES, I DO ART!

TRICK OR TREAT, SMELL MY FEET, GIVE ME SOMETHING GOOD TO EAT!

DEAD! ON! EARTH!

SO HALLOWEEN'S COMING UP

STICK THIS IN YOUR EARS, SUGARTITS!

IT'S QUIET AROUND HERE...PERHAPS EVEN A LITTLE TOO QUIET! OR MAYBE NOT QUIET ENOUGH. I DON'T KNOW WHATEVER PISS OFF.