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Reasons to be Cheerful

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There are some days when the life of a freelance writer/reviewer can seem absolutely fruitless, annoying, and beyond depressing. And then, there are the days when a little bit of effort results in £100 of work coming in (and no transport costs to deduct), and when you open an interesting looking parcel in the post, and it turns out to have sci-fi author Greg Egan’s entire back catalgoue in spangly new jackets that say “I’M GREG EGAN, I AM!” Six novels- Permutation City, Distress, Schild’s Ladder, Quarantine, Diaspora and Teranesia, and two short story collections – Luminous and Axiomatic- all of which I’ve meant to get around to reading at some point, and they’re now sitting in the corner looking inviting.

It’s official. Just for now, life is good.

Because Fact into Doubt won’t go…

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The Writer’s Strike may be over. It’s not absolutely confirmed yet- and if you want to give yourself a headache, follow the link to the interim deal, as it’s ‘interesting’ reading, but if this pans out this will be very good news– both from the perspective of Writers Rights, and my general desire to consume new TV content as quickly as they can make it.

Elsewhere, programming schedules are starting to be circulated for the Orbital Eastercon, and I’m on four panels- one on the Friday, two on the Saturday and one on the Monday. I am, apparently, going to be talking about Russel T. Davies, adapting Tolkien for the screen, what books make good films, and the results of the BSFA awards. It remains to be seen whether this is a good idea, or if I can actually talk for more than a minute in these situations without sounding like an idiot– but one thing I’ve learned is that it’s often best to hurl yourself in feet first and see what happens…

In the Presence of the Great Beard

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Yesterday, I went into London for a signing by Alan Moore at London’s Gosh Comics on Great Russell Street- one of the few events that would get me to shell out £16.50 for the train ticket, and then £49.99 for the relevant book- his and artist Melinda Gebbie’s work of pornography, Lost Girls. Gebbie was supposed to be there but was ill, so it was just Moore- and it was one of those experiences that clicks me into ‘quiet mode’. Part of this was simply having to queue outside Gosh Comics for nearly two and a half hours, and anyone who was outside yesterday afternoon will testify to exactly how cold it was. I have actually interviewed Moore over the phone- it was for an article on From Hell that was supposed to be in a Borders customer magazine years and years ago… and instead ended up being published in a DVD magazine about an issue before it folded- and he’s a genuinely lovely bloke, but also very easy to get talking for a very, very long time. An hour and a half after the signing had begun, they announced they were having to speed things up a bit as there was still a gigantic queue, so it was really reduced to a “Hello”, getting the books signed (A copy of Lost Girls (at least, Volume 1 of the a three volume set), and my copy of Absolute Watchmen) and an enthusiastic farewell, but he was still wonderfully polite, very friendly, and still sporting one of the most spectacular beards in modern history.

He’s a writer who’s had a gigantic influence on me– and I think I can tie most of it down to reading the early stories he wrote for the horror comic Swamp Thing. I’d already read plenty of his stuff, which was why I was reading Swamp Thing, but it was the sudden realisation of what he was doing – that he was taking a setup which was, frankly, ludicrous (scientist gets blown up and transformed into a walking sludge/plant monster, seeks to reclaim his humanity) and turning it into something scary, profound and often jaw-droppingly beautiful. The issue ‘Rite of Spring’- where the long simmering relationship between Abigail Arcane and the creature who thinks he’s Alec Holland flowers into something else is one of the best things Moore has ever done- it’s tender and beautiful and touching and funny, and could have been absolutely bloody awful in the wrong hands. There are works of his I love more than others (Miracleman, for example, I find rather hard work), but I always respect the way he took on stories and made them feel real by treating them right. It’s that kind of emotional reality I try to get in my writing – I’m never sure if I get there, but Alan Moore is definitely one of the reasons I’m trying so hard.

I’m most of the way through Lost Girls now, as well- and it’s an amazing piece of work. It’s sexy and sensuous as well as being surreal, powerful and sometimes very unsettling (there are very few taboos that don’t get dealt with somewhere in the book), and it certainly succeeds in its mission of being a serious piece of pornography. It’s certainly not for everyone (the hefty price tag kind of guarentees that), but there’s something fascinating and adventurous in the way it’s tackling questions a lot of people would rather not ask. Not something I’m going to be reading regularly- but it’s definitely something I’m glad I’ve gotten.

Edit: As a p.s., there was a guy in front of me in the queue who was possibly the most interestingly attired figure I’d seen in a while. Imagine the actor Chiwetel Ejiofor dressed in smart trousers, smart shirt with an Edwardian collar, polka-dot cravat, bright blue blazer festooned with medals and badges (including a golliwog) and a top hat, and you’d be pretty close to the guy in front of me. He was with two others, his name was Marcus (although he’d adopted the nickname “King of London”, preferrably in a cockney accent), and I simply didn’t have the gumption (mainly thanks to the cold) to ask him why exactly he was dressed like that- whether it was his ‘look’, or if he was going somewhere after the signing. He was simply one of those characters who wanders into your life, and wanders out again, but for the brief period he was there, he was an absolute hoot and made the process of queuing a hell of a lot more entertaining.

Warlock Nights

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On one of my regular trawls of second hand bookshops in London yesterday, I headed over to the Book and Comic Exchange at Notting Hill, mainly because it’s one of those places which is worth checking 20% of the time. The rest of the time, it”s not worth bothering, but for those 20%… well, having wandered inside, I scanned the shelves, and then had to stop in shock. I couldn’t quite believe it- one of my vices is collecting the old Titan Books editions of 2000AD graphic novels released during the 1980s. They’re the nicest editions that have ever been released of many classic 2000AD stories, and they’ve almost always got fantastic original cover art. Printed in the right format, they look more like Vinyl Albums, and sitting there in front of me was volume 2, and volume 4-8 of gothic sci-fi adventure Nemesis The Warlock- almost all the volumes that I was missing (bar number 9). While the stories have been re-issued recently, the print quality isn’t always outstanding- and the Titan editions are on fantastic paper, and simply feel right. Revisiting those stories is going to be great fun…

Update! Update! Update!

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It’s true. I actually still exist.

Life for the last couple of weeks has been odd– George has finally gotten over her illness, and we’ve gotten the spectre of Christmas completely out of the way, but 2008 is proving to be somewhat slow for me so far. After an action-packed end of 2007, work has slowed to a crawl– it’ll bounce back, but for the moment it’s consisting of an awful lot of running around chasing things, and not very much happening in return. It’s difficult for me, especially as I often only feel happy when I’m busy – I’m great when the work arrives, but actually getting the work is another matter entirely. On top of which, I’m still awaiting feedback on my novel, and I’ve got an upcoming holiday to Canada which is (a) lovely but (b) meaning that two weeks are essentially vanishing from my schedule. Life would be a lot easier if one particular client wasn’t still managing to neglect to pay me– but I may be letting slip the dogs of litigation ( or at least, their secretaries with a stern letter) so maybe it won’t stretch on for as long as all that. We can but hope…

News: I am officially going to Orbital, the Heathrow-based science fiction convention happening over Easter weekend. It’s the first sci-fi literary convention I’ve ever done, so in an attempt to make certain I don’t spend most of the weekend hiding and feeling out of place, I’m hurling myself straight into the crossfire. I’ve already volunteered for multiple panels (I’m definitely on one, and may be on another four) and am prepared to attempt to sound vaguely like I know what I’m talking about. I guess we’ll see how that works, but I’m staying over for one night, and it’ll certainly be an education.

In less than four weeks, I’m off to Canada for a holiday. I’m also feeling somewhat restless and in need of some direction – giving myself a breather after finishing the novella is a good idea, but I want to feel like I’m actually grasping hold of life’s reins and exerting some kind of control, not just being dragged along in its wake. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking, but I am getting fed up of waiting for something to happen. It’s about time I got back to actually making something happen.

There will be some TV updates soon. Just not quite yet…

Crossing the Finish Line

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It’s done. Blade and Crescent, my sexually explicit dark fantasy novella, has a complete first draft (running at just over 21,000 words). To be honest, it’s a bit of a mess, and like The Hypernova Gambit, I don’t know how much rewriting it’s going to need beyond the all-purpose “lots and lots and lots.” I’ve also come to a realisation that while I’ve got a natural inclination towards “going dark” (I once tried to think up a children’s drama series, and within a couple of days the story had gotten to a messed-up and all-out horror level that was rather difficult to believe), but I think I’m actually at my best when I’m blending that with a general attitude of silliness. The Hypernova Gambit is damned silly in places, but it’s also dark – and I think that’s where I want to be. That, and the fact that I’ve really got no interest in doing something that’s exactly like everything else– I want to be proud of it, but I also want to be able to look at it and know there really isn’t anything else like it out there. I don’t know if just getting this thing down on paper is all I needed to do, and whether I can leave it now, or if it’ll be worth the serious effort that rewriting will entail. For the moment, just having finished is enough. I’ll leave working out what to do next for tomorrow…

Absolute Realisation

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A short, insignificant realisation hit me today. Now, I love DC Absolute Editions. Given that I adore beautifully presented books, the idea of huge, slipcase-covered editions of comic books packed with all kinds of extras and unseen art – they’re books as artifacts, and I’ve frequently cooed and gaped over them simply because they’re so gorgeously designed. This has even been the case with comics that aren’t that good. The legendary DC crossover series Crisis on Infinite Earths is, truth be told, an unreadable mess in almost anyone’s book, and yet the gigantic Absolute Edition (with the Alex Ross slipcase art) was so lovely that it almost had me laying down an absurd amount of moolah. My wife got me Absolute Watchmen for my birthday in 2006- and while it wasn’t something I’d immediately put on my list as something I really, really wanted… I’m so glad I have it now. The art has the chance to breathe on pages that large, you can see so much detail, and the whole thing makes it feel like you’re reading it anew. It’s like the difference between VHS and DVD, and the fact that they only produce a small number of them each year only makes them more special. The most recent one I got was DC: The New Frontier by Darwyn Cooke, a wonderful retro-look at the birth of the Justice League, and it’s like watching a maginificent animated movie (they’ve actually made it into a DVD feature, due out in a couple of months- although simplifying it down will mean losing a lot of the detail that made it special).

What this revolves around is that they’re bringing out Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman in the Absolute format- an expensive commitment, considering that it’s four giant-sized volumes whose British RRP is £70 (although Amazon has them for cheaper). I got volume 1 for Christmas last year, and I currently have enough to get volume 2… and yet I’ve realised that I don’t desperately want to. It’d be lovely to have– and yet, I’ve already got most of The Sandman (save for one story arc) in normal-sized graphic novel format. There are sections of the story I love, and I’m glad I’ve got them– and yet I don’t love it quite enough to want to buy it all over again.

Now, if it was Alan Moore’s run on Swamp Thing we were talking about, there’d be nothing stopping me – but combined with this, I was actually a little disappointed with the first Sandman Absolute Edition. It’s been beautifully recoloured and the art remastered and it’s a great way of having those stories… but while the original graphic novels were beautifully designed (by Dave McKean) and had their own identity, the Absolute Sandman feels a little uniform and corporate. There isn’t even any new art on the slipcase, there’s one section where a double-page spread has been split across opposing pages, breaking the flow of the art, and many of the original covers have a rather ugly white border around them. They just don’t feel quite as special as some of the other Absolute editions- and for £70 a shot, they’d better feel special. It’s just the realisation that despite having the collectors urge, despite loving the smell of new books, and adoring the world of comic books… I’m actually happy with my original hardbacks. They may not be as beautifully coloured, but they’ve got their own identity, and they’re good enough for me. Maybe I’ll have another major windfall sometime, and maybe the Absolute Sandman volumes won’t go out of print for a while (unlike the Absolute version of Planetary, which now goes for an obscene amount of money…), but for now, I don’t mind. I’m not sure if that means I’m growing up or getting sensible. I guess it’ll just have to do for now…

Con Air

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An odd, and rather frustrating week. Getting properly back to work has been tricky with George still ill, and hasn’t been helped by a cascade of “two steps forward, three steps back” experiences. I managed to gain and lose two days of subbing within almost as many hours this afternoon, and while I’ve bagged a few reviews (including Cloverfield, which I’ll be seeing next week), I’m aware of the fact that money needs to start flowing a little quicker. No word from the people at Death Ray about my outstanding payments, and no word from anyone who’s currently got a copy of my novel.

And, to add to everything, I found out today that, yes, I had left sorting out the booking for this year’s Eastercon way too late, and there aren’t any rooms left in the convention hotel, and there’s no way I can afford a near-£270 outlay for the ‘overflow’ hotel. The big advantage is that it’s in Heathrow, which is only about an hour’s drive away, but it would have been nice to be able to stay over for a couple of nights, and as well as being a mark of me being terribly disorganised, it’s also generally highlighted my general lack of experience, nervousness and sense of oddness when it comes to conventions. I’ve only been to four events that could be roughly described as cons in my life- two sci-fi TV/lit cons, a Dr Who con, and a comics con in 2000- and I’ve never felt completely at ease with the whole idea. I think it’s because growing up in north Cornwall and being miles away from anywhere meant that, by default, fandom was a very solitary thing for me. There were very few people around who were into SF at all, and certainly nobody into it at the sort of level I was at, and conventions were always so ridiculously far away that going to them seemed impractical. As a result, instead of feeling like I had to forget being into this sort of stuff and like more popular stuff, I dug my heels in and determined that I was going to like what I liked, even if it meant appreciating it on my own. I think it might be this that’s behind some of my unease– that my brain is wired for appreciating this stuff on my own, or with a couple of people who are into it as well– I’ve not always found the social side of fandom an easy thing to get on with, so while I’m still absolutely doing Eastercon, I’m a little nervous. I want to enjoy myself, I want to feel like I’m hanging with people of a like mind– and the fact that there’ll be so many of the fine folk from the BSFA (about the first SF social group that I’ve felt like I’ve actually managed to click with) will definitely help, but I’m still a little worried that it’s going to be that worryingly familiar feeling of seeing a party through a very thick glass wall, and not being able to interact with it.

It’s one of the difficult things about me – I’m both a stubborn individualist, and desperate to fit in. People always accuse me of looking lost, and it’s mainly because of a constant feeling that I’ve wandered onstage during a performance, and the cues and script I’ve been given don’t seem to match up to everyone else’s.

Sorry for the blather. It’s been an odd week, and I need to get some work done. This kind of thing only happens when I have way too much time to think…