My sister

Tomorrow, the 25th, is my Dad’s birthday - he’s a sprightly pensioner now, his life more full of activity than when he was gainfully employed and he has a great time chasing around after his two grandchildren. We’ll visit him tonight, to give him his cards and gifts and wish him all the best.

Tomorrow, the 25th, my kid sister Sarah & I will go up to the cemetery, just on the edge of town and put flowers on our sister Tracy’s grave. It’ll be the eighth anniversary of her passing, which doesn’t feel like any time at all, until you think about everything that has happened since.

When Tracy passed away in 2003, Alison & I were trying for a baby and now we’re the exceptionally proud parents of Matthew, who’s 6 years old and as bright as a button. He’s the best thing I’ve ever created in my life and I’m sure Tracy would have loved him. He knows all about her, he’s seen her pictures, watched her in the wedding video, we talk about her, but there’s a constant nagging sadness that neither of them got to meet. I’m sure they’d have got on brilliantly - I’m convinced of it, in fact - but it wasn’t to be. Likewise, Tracy never got to meet Lucy, my god-daughter and niece, who is a beautiful and lovely two-year-old. Nor did see get to see Sarah graduate from university, meet Chris and get married. Worse, she never got to see how well my parents coped (in a situation that is almost unfathomable in its horror), how strong they were and how determined to keep moving forward - to remain as wonderful parents to me & Sarah and superb grandparents for Matthew & Lucy.

Time does ease pain and scars do heal over, but at certain points of the year, that time is rolled back and those scars are re-exposed. Tomorrow is that day for us.

It’s been eight years, but I remember that awful phone call as if it was yesterday. I wish I didn’t have to hear it, I wish my Mum hadn’t had to make it.

RIP, Tracy, never forgotten.

Another hero - Michael Hutchence

Today marks the 14th anniversary of Michael Hutchence's death. I still clearly remember hearing the news on the radio that morning and not quite believing it - he was dead, how could that be?

I followed without liking the awful media circus that broke out in the aftermath - the various dysfunctional family activities, the muck-raking, the missing funds, the death of Paula Yates making an orphan of their daughter - but still retained my image of the man. I never met him, though I was lucky enough to get to a few of their concerts (I'm in the crowd at Wembley XS and Alison & I saw them at the NEC in the summer of '97 when the whole band seemed to be on top form), but I wish I had. I've since read biographies and he generally comes across as a decent enough bloke - he loved his family and friends, he lived like a rock star and he always wanted to do his best.

We've seen INXS since - at the NEC again, with Jon Stevens fronting and also on Clapham Common earlier this year, with JD Fortune - and whilst they're still very good, they're definitely missing him. I've only listened to Switch briefly (though Alison really likes it), but their pre-97 music still moves me.

14 years is a long time, though it doesn't feel that far away as I write this. RIP, you true rock star.

I Met Caroline Munro...

On Friday, through a friend’s Facebook update, I found out there was a Memorabilia fair at the NEC, in Birmingham. I’ve wanted to go along to one for years and, after having had a crap few weeks at work, thought it’d be a nice treat. With the promise that there would be plenty of Mario-related toys, I convinced Dude to accompany me.

We headed off on Saturday morning and I was overwhelmed with the scale of it all - I’d expected a big area, with plenty of stands, but this was just so much more. The second stand was selling badges and we were off, with Dude picking up a load and me finding a Six Million Dollar Man one. We worked our way around the place, meeting various characters on the way - Darth Vader, R2-D2 and the Stig were quite happy to pose with Matthew and Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger approached us, but Dude saw them off with a swish of his newly-bought Lightsaber. He got to sit in the DeLorean (“you’re Doc Brown,” he said to the man running the stand), we picked up a few Mario characters for him and I got a couple of vintage Stormtroopers to add to my growing collection.

In the centre of the hall were the famous faces, little booths where you could meet and greet and get autographs from actors who’d been in various sci-fi/fantasy/horror films over the years. I’ve never been a big one for collecting autographs (though I’d queue for hours to get Roger Moore’s), though seeing Ian Ogilvy’s name (he had a white XJS across from him) made me pause - but he was at lunch. We walked around the corner and, out of idle curiosity, I checked the names of the people there. And stopped. Dude stopped too and looked at me, frowning.

“What’s up, Dad?”

“Holy crap,” I said, “it’s Caroline Munro.”

I got a tap on the arm for the swear word (Alison has declared ‘crap’ in that category) but it didn’t matter. I was standing across from the booth that Caroline Munro was signing at (she must have been at lunch with Ian Ogilvy at the time).

“We have to come back,” I told my six-year-old son, as if our roles had been completely reversed and I wasn’t the forty-two-year-old Dad in this scenario, “I can’t miss this opportunity.”

“Okay then,” said Dude, “can we go and see if we can find Donkey Kong now?”

In order to understand just why this was so important to me, we have to go back to the mid-70s. I would have been 8 or so and, when my parents took us shopping (usually on a Friday night, to Sainsbury’s in Corby town centre), I’d sometimes go out to explore. Near the old fountains (long since gone now), there was an advertising hoarding and sometimes I’d look at it, sometimes I’d ignore it. One day, it was an ad for Lamb’s Navy Rum. And I fell instantly in love with the model on it, her wet-suit zipped down to her belly, her cleavage glistening with water - she had a pretty face, long dark hair and I knew I was in love.

A little later, I went with some school-friends to watch a couple of Sinbad films at the cinema, a double bill of “The Eye Of The Tiger” and “The Golden Voyage”. And there, in the latter, was my lovely lady. Later still, Dad took me to see “The Spy Who Loved Me” (which remains, to this day, my favourite Bond film) and there she was, flying the helicopter during the exciting Lotus chase sequence. It was her, the Lambs Navy Rum girl, all pouty and pretty and with cleavage on show.

I stayed for the credits and found out her name was Caroline Munro and my crush was then complete. As the 70s eased into the 80s, she made films - “Maniac” and “The Last Horror Film” - that I didn’t have a chance of watching, then appeared as a hostess on “3-2-1”, a Saturday night gameshow that initially I had to endure because the folks liked it, until Ms Munro appeared.

Even though I stopped watching “3-2-1” soon after (and still haven’t seen those horror films), I never forgot Caroline Munro and she’s always had a special pull for me - very pretty, very sexy but somehow curiously safe (in that English way) - and she’s the one woman I say I fancy where Alison doesn’t roll her eyes.

Anyway, back to the present, back to 2pm on Saturday 19th November 2011. After getting Donkey Kong for Dude, we made our way back to the booth that Caroline Munro was based at. There were some people in front of us, talking to her and my nerves started to get the better of me. What should I say? Is it polite to say to a lady that you’ve had a crush on her for almost 35 years - would I sound like a pervert? Would it worry her? Should I mention her films? Perhaps the fact that Dude & I have recently re-discovered “3-2-1” on Challenge TV and had seen her only the last week on there?

The people in front of us moved away. We stepped forward. The still-very-attractive Caroline Munro looked up and smiled and my heart melted - all of a sudden, I was 8 years old again, staring at that Lambs Navy Rum poster.

“Hello,” she said and, before I got a chance to say a word, Dude said, “hello” and that was it, they were off. She asked him his name, how he liked school, what his favourite lessons were. They chatted easily, taking in everything from maths to Super Mario and I stood there like a spare part, still trying to figure out what to say. Should I mention that I’d found the old ads on the Net? Should I mention that her wink, just before she tries to destroy James Bond is still one of the sexiest moments in film for me?

“I’m almost speechless,” is the classic line I eventually came out with, “you have no idea how much of an honour this is for me.”

She smiled and nodded - it’s probably a common reaction, I suppose - and then we talked for a while and she signed an autograph for me (“pick the Bond picture,” said Dude but I ignored his advice and went for the red swimsuit one). She noticed my camera and said “Would you like a photo?” and I agreed.

She got up from behind her table and we met at the end of it. She called Dude over and he stood between us and she put a hand on his shoulder and one around my waist. I tempted fate, put my right arm around her. The afternoon couldn’t get much better - I’d now not only met and talked with my boyhood crush, I was posing for a photo with her and my arm was around her. I was beyond happy, though in the photograph I look scared to death.

Caroline sat back down and I thanked her and shook her hand and she held out hers for Dude. He duly shook it and she told him to keep working hard at school and then we were away.

It took me several minutes for me to get my breath back and as I write this, I can still feel the terror and excitement as I stood before her. What’s nicest about the whole thing though (apart from the fact that I had no idea she’d be there) is how nice she was - she was lovely and friendly, warm and encouraging and she was genuinely interested in her conversation with Dude, which was a delight to witness.

So that was our day - both of us loved it, for mostly different reasons and when Dude suggested last night, as I put him to bed, that we go again today, I seriously considered it for a moment or two.

Yesterday, I met a hero of mine, a crush of three decades standing and she was more delightful than I could have ever imagined. And it made me think that I wish I could go back and say to the eight-year-old me, mooning over that Lambs Navy Rum poster, “One day, mate, you’ll get to meet her and please, please, please, think of something intelligent to say!”

I love this sequence...

It's taken from "Flasbbacks Of A Fool", a film directed by Bailie Walsh that was, in my opinion, unfairly lambasted on its release. It has a sequence in it, embedded from YouTube below, where the hero and his hoped-to-be girlfriend dance and lip-synch to Roxy Music. It's beautiful, it's nostalgic, it's quite poignant, it reminds me of my friend Pauline and I really like it.

More reviews for "The Mill"

The great Pablo Cheesecake reviews "The Mill" at The Eloquent Page where, amongst other things, he writes, "West treats what could be difficult subject matter with a delicate, reverential touch and it shows. Subtle and affecting, this is a captivating read."

The brilliant Shaun Hamilton, over at the Horrifically, Horrifying blog, had this to say, "THE MILL is a haunting tale about loss and grief and the lengths people might go to just to spend one more minute with their dearly departed. A ghost story in the Susan Hill mould, THE MILL is gentle in its writing, offering respect for the subject matter as opposed to continuosly heading for the gullet."

On Goodreads.com, G.R. Yeates says, "The theme of losing a loved one is visited with rare sensitivity and once again showcases Mark West's skill at realistically portraying interpersonal relationships with dialogue that shines."

Alessa Dark on Twitter wrote "Bold mix of real and supernatural horror, often difficult to pull off, but well-handled in this case."

I can't tell you how heart-warming this is to read. If anyone wants a PDF review copy, email me or the publisher for details.

Available from Amazon.co.uk here
Available from Amazon.com here

Available from iTunes (UK) here
Available from iTunes (US) here

Available from Barnes & Noble here

Available from Smashwords here

"Later", a short film by Simon Duric

Note:
It’s my opinion that the “Later” experience (for both the short story and the short film) is made all the better by not knowing what’s coming, by letting the piece of work guide you and confound you and move you without prior knowledge. To that end, this review/essay won’t give you a blow-by-blow plot breakdown but there might be minor spoilers within. You’ve been warned!

Sometime in 1996, in a Stephen Jones themed anthology (I won’t tell you the name of it, since it sort of gives the game away), I read a short story called “Later” by Michael Marshall Smith. At that point, I hadn’t read anything by him and when I got to the last line, I was amazed and moved and astonished at how much power that story packed (for those interested, it’s reprinted in all its glory in Smith’s 1999 collection from Harper Collins, “What You Make It”). I became an instant fan and continue to tell as many people as will listen just how good it is - I even homaged (well, alright, stole) the beautiful “Later…” line in my own novel five years later.

Fifteen years on and I’m in Brighton, attending the British Fantasy Society’s FantasyCon, held the weekend that September rolls into October. Martin Roberts, an old friend, has organised the film shows for the event and, knowing of my love for the story, tells me that he’s secured a screening of a short film version. I didn’t even realise one was being made.

Slight dilemma. I read quite a lot and, on occasion, I’ve read a book or story before it’s been made into a film and, in general, the viewing pleasure is often a bit of a let-down (and sometimes it’s a lot of a let-down). Dare I risk going to see this? How could they capture the feelings and emotions that the story had raised in me? How could they make it as powerful as the story was? Only one way to find out.

On Saturday evening, at 9pm, I gathered up a little band of mates - who’d I been regaling for the past hour about how good the story was - and we went into the screening. Martin introduced it, the lights went down and the film started. At 9.20pm, I left the screening room on my own and felt the need to get a breath of fresh air. You see, the film did work. Not quite in the same way as the story had, but it did enthral me, it did raise powerful emotions in me and it was upsetting in parts. I went back to find my friends and spent the remainder of the weekend telling everyone who’d listen that the short film of “Later” was very, very good indeed.

- warning, here may be spoilers -

According to the Nimble Pictures website (the production entity behind this mini-masterpiece) “Later” is the story of Richard and Rachel, a young couple who are deeply in love. Their life together is torn apart when, on the way to a party, Rachel is killed in a tragic accident. Unable to cope with the idea that he’s now alone, Richard decides that death doesn’t have to be the end of everything.

Richard (Neil Newbon) and Rachel (Nessa Wrafter) meet at a party

By their very nature, many low-budget films (especially short ones) are acting rather than action driven and so they stand and fall on performance. In the case of “Later”, they picked superbly well as the acting is top notch. Neil Newbon plays Richard and appears in virtually every shot, doing most of his acting with expression - he conveys enough emotion that the audience not only sympathises with him but empathises too. Equally at ease whether still - reflecting in the car at the beginning - or caught amid violent movement - earlier in the car or much later, with spade in hand - he’s never less than watchable. As Rachel, Nessa Wrafter arguably has the more difficult role - with much less screentime, she has to make her character memorable enough for us to believe in what Richard does and she achieves this admirably. Her Rachel is beautiful and smart and loving and so when she does get hurt, we feel Richard’s pain because we want her to live. We want them to be together. And that, essentially, is the crux of the whole film.

Rachel & Richard, in the bedroom

It’d be difficult to pick a “best” scene, with regards to the performances, but since tying a tie is very important in the short story, I’ll go with that one. Getting ready for the party, Richard can’t knot his tie and is getting frustrated when Rachel comes into the bedroom, clad in a towel. Whilst kissing him, we’re aware of movement and she steps back - having knotted the tie perfectly - says her “later…” line and things move forward. In that sequence, we know as much as we need to about the characters, we understand them (hell, we’ve even been them at some point) and the actors play off each other perfectly. There’s also a nice little visual trick, a beautifully observed moment where the camera pans across Rachel’s upper arm and focuses on the beads of water that have escaped the towel.

Richard bathes (for reasons I can't go into for fear of spoilage) in a wordless sequence that highlights Neil Newbon's superb acting

The cinematography, by Luke Bryant, is gorgeous with a lovely muted palete and - in the couple sequences at least - a real warmth to the image that you don’t often find with DV (it was shot using a RED HD camera). The music - by Nate Connelly - is nicely understated but insistent and the editing, by Ben Jordan, keeps everything moving nicely. Often, with low budget films, the editing is where things have a tendency to fall down (shots linger too long, or are cut too quicky) but Jordan and Duric seem to know precisely how long everything should remain on screen for.

Again, without wanting to throw in too many spoilers, there’s only one major make-up effect - by Natalie Guest - but it’s so shocking to see it that (in the screening I attended, at least) it drew a gasp. A prosthetic piece, it adds a real sense of poignancy to a scene that’s already difficult enough to watch. According to the director, he kept the actors apart when the scene was shot, so that Neil wouldn’t know how Nessa would look, making his reaction all the more believeable. And it does work, his stunned and wordless expression an extension of the audiences own.

Pulling all of this together is writer & director Simon Duric and he’s done a superb job, in both adapting the short story and making it work so well and so movingly as a film.

Simon started out in the small press, getting his break with Andy Cox at TTA Press (a role Andy has performed for a lot of those writers and artists amongst us - in my case, his zine “The Fix” opened up a whole new world in 1999) and was nominated for Best Artist in the 2001 British Fantasy Society awards. Finding work as a storyboard artist, he got in touch with Michael Marshall Smith “and I cheekily asked him if he'd be willing to let me try and adapt one of his short stories into a short film. He asked which one, I said LATER.” Writing his first draft overnight, Smith liked it enough to let Simon carry on and the film was eventually shot over four days (though it’s so polished, it certainly doesn’t look like it).

At present, the film is on the festival circuit, premiering in 2011 at the Fantastik Film Festival in Lund, Sweden and it was also invited to the Sitges Film Festival in Barcelona (where it was nominated for a Melies D'argent award). Beyond that, who knows? With the market for short films being what it is - anyone remember Channel Four’s “Shooting Gallery” strand, which sadly appears to have bitten the dust - there are no plans for “Later” other than being a terrific calling card for all involved.

Personally, I think the film deserves a bigger audience and I hope this little review/essay has inspired you enough to want to watch it. Maybe if you're reading this and are interested in seeing it, you could perhaps email Nimble Pictures at info@nimblepictures.co.uk and show your support.
(Interesestingly, they also have “Dark Hollow” in development, based on the Brian Keene novel, with a screenplay from my friend Paul Finch to be directed by Paul Campion, ie, the writer and director behind “The Devil’s Rock”).

And just to finish on a high - how about Rachel’s line? The line that made the short for me and is delivered so wonderfully by Nessa Wrafter in the film? Here it is, in it’s entirety:

“Later,” she said, smiling in a way that showed she meant it. “Later, and for a long time, my man.”

Track this film down, it’s well worth a look and very highly recommended.


ADDENDUM (May 2014) - Thanks to Michael Marshall Smith for pointing this out to me - the film can now be watched at his website on this link - http://www.michaelmarshallsmith.com/new-page-1/


(I'd like to thank Elisabeth Pinto, the producer of the film and owner of Nimble Pictures, who graciously passed my "well done!" email on to Simon Duric.  I'd also like to thank Simon for both answering my email and his patience and good humour with my questions and queries thereafter )

all photographs are (c) Nimble Pictures, used with permission

Drive, a novella

It's now public and official, so I can announce that Chris Teague's Pendragon Press will be publishing my 'dark urban thriller' "Drive", probably next year. I have a real soft spot for this (which was inspired when I was driving to Luton airport at 3am to catch a plane for a business trip and found I was the only person on the M1).

Chris writes, "A departure from Mark's horror writing, though still quite terrifying: a fast-paced thriller set in the darkness of Gaffney's streets."

This is the cover art test I did back in 2008 (when the novella was written), which is obviously subject to change, but I quite like it and thought I'd give it an airing!

Very chuffed about all of this, as you can probably tell!

More news as and when I have it.

Some love for "The Mill"

Anthony Watson has posted a review of "The Mill" at his website and, as a writer, it makes for very pleasant reading.

He says, "The emotional content genuinely is moving and is never mawkish or sentimental and the conclusion fits in perfectly with - and is as moving as - everything that's gone before."

Can't ask for better than that, can you?

Available from Amazon.co.uk here

Available from Amazon.com here

Available from Smashwords here

In The Rain With The Dead

“In The Rain With The Dead” is now available as an eBook from Tim C Taylor’s Greyhart Press.

This is a revised, leaner version of the novel, which originally appeared from Pendragon Press in 2005 (an edition that is completely sold out now). “In The Rain With The Dead” features Jim and Nadia, once teenaged sweethearts, reunited now after a decade apart and Magellan, a demon who is desperate to make Nadia his own.

“A tale of lost love and gut-wrenching terror”.

If you choose to give it a chance - and I hope you do - I hope you enjoy it.

Pick it up from Amazon.co.uk here

"In The Rain With The Dead" in the Greyhart Press catalogue

My FantasyCon Report 2011

Brighton - 30th September to 2nd October 2011

Friday 30th September

I dropped Matthew at school, then Jay Eales & Selina Lock picked me up and we set off on our ROADTRIP! down to London. We had a playlist of CDs but didn’t need them, chattering all the way, though as the traffic was quite heavy and the sun was very hot, it perhaps wasn’t quite as glamorous as we’d all perhaps expected. Having said that, it was still an exciting ROADTRIP! and so that’s how we all referred to it for the duration of the weekend.

After lunch at the Pease Pottage Services (great name, terrible design of car park), we hit Brighton at about 2pm. Jay & Selina went to park and I took the bags into the foyer where, almost immediately, the joy of FCon hit me. As I queued up to get my name badge, I got a wonderful hug from Pixie Pants (she’s lovely, she really is), said hello to Sarah Pinborough and Simon Kurt Unsworth, Simon Clark, Martin Roberts, Peter Mark May, Dave Jeffery and a raft of others and knew I’d arrived. FantasyCon means a lot of things to a lot of people - to me, a big chunk of the enjoyment is meeting up with old friends, making news ones and talking about our shared love for the genre. This year, in a change, I was looking forward to meeting up in person with a load of people who’d become Facebook friends since the last Con.

I had a good room - third floor, above the main entrance (a shame I didn’t get a sea view but, on the bright side, it didn’t get any direct sunlight so remained blissfully cool as the Con sweltered in a mini-heatwave over the weekend) and the only issue I had with it was a nightclub over the way which thudded long into the night (but if I closed the window, all was well). I dropped my stuff off, sorted the goody bags, returned the books I wasn’t interested in (my tastes seemed to be the same as a lot of con-goers, if that welcome table was anything to go by) and headed into the throng.

Reading a section from "Mr Huxton Goes Camping" at the Alt-Dead reading

(photo by Peter Mark May)

The programme was packed, which was excellent, though it had the unfortunate knock-on effect that there were plenty of schedule clashes. I went to my first reading - Sara Jayne Townsend - then back to Bar Rogue for the Alt-Dead readings, in the company of Pete May, Dave Jeffery, Richard Barber, Ade Chamberlain and Stuart Young (who also brought me a bag of Robert B Parker novels). The readings went well, we drew a small crowd and then indulged in a Q&A session which was good fun. As the welcome meeting started, we stayed put and I caught up with Simon Marshall-Jones and met his lovely wife Liz and also finally met Stuart Hughes (ex-editor of ‘Peeping Tom’ and my cohort in Stumar Press). By now, it was time to eat and so our merry little band - the Marshall-Jones’, me and Jay & Selina, Stuart, Richard, Pete and Dave - set off. Jay had satellite navigation on his phone, Pete had a print out of local restaurants, but we still got lost. We ended up in a decent place, which was empty but still took ages to serve us, though it allowed for plenty of conversation and getting-to-know you.

At the Indian, with Richard Farren Barber and Selina Lock

(photo by Jay Eales)

Back at the hotel, I bumped into Mark Morris and had a chat with him and Stephen Volk (both lovely men), which is always a treat. Then I spotted Graham Joyce and - after he’d introduced me to Catherine Rogers - I got to tell him just how much “The Silent Land” had moved me. He seemed genuinely pleased to hear it and we had a nice long chat, joined by Simon Bestwick. Back to the Regency Lounge for the raffle which, as ever, went on for far too long - though Sarah and Guy Adams did their best to make it enjoyable - and I won a US edition of Clive Barker’s “Mister B Gone”. A nice surprise was discovering I was sat next to Paul & Mandy Edwards - we’d first corresponded over ten years ago, when Paul edited Unsane magazine and it was great to finally meet them both.

After the raffle, I went straight into the Russell Room for the midnight screening of “The Devil’s Rock”, written by Paul Finch. I’d seen it before, but it was a real treat to watch it with Paul in attendance and we had a short Q&A session afterwards. As we left, at 2am, Chris Teague said he was heading for the bar but I decided to head back to my room.

Saturday 1st October

Hotter today, if possible. Refreshed after a good kip, I had breakfast and sat with Trevor Denyer and caught up. By this time, I’d missed a couple of panels I’d planned to attend, so I went down to the dealer room instead. It was a small-ish, windowless room and it was like a sauna - even with the blowers/fans dotted around, I don’t know how any of them stood it. I wandered around, ummed-and-aahed over “The Five” by Robert McCammon (still too expensive, sadly), introduced myself to Peter Coleborn (I’d done the book trailer for “Rumours Of The Marvellous”) and Jan Edwards, hung around the Pendragon table, hung around the DCP/Hersham Horrors table and then had a long chat with Steve Harris (from the Inner Circle newsletter), John Worley and Stuart Lambeth about the joys of being a teenager in the 80s and working your way through Betamax video nasties! Coming out of the dealer room, I took a wrong turn and suddenly I was in the middle of Spinal Tap, trying to figure out where I was in a maze of corridors and odd, stand-alone blocks of wall.

I had lunch with David Price at a deli in the Lanes, then back for the Alchemy Press launch. Peter sent me upstairs to get my “contributor” copy and got Peter Atkins to sign it, explaining who I was in the process. Now Peter Atkins is a big man, physically and in projection and he’s successful, yet he stood up and shook my hand and enthused about my book trailer and made me feel wonderful. After a quick chat with Mick & Debs Curtis and Gary Cole-Wilkin & Soozy Marjoram (and an agreement that Gary would do the soundtrack to my Spectral Press chapbook and I’d make him a music video), I went to the Hellraiser Franchise panel, which was informative and good fun. Out of there and back to Bar Rogue for the Pendragon Press/Screaming Dreams launch, where I gave Johnny Mains the copy of “Worms” I’d picked up in Great Yarmouth. I bought a copy of his “Lest You Should Suffer Nightmares” as we chatted about sleazy horror paperbacks and Charlotte Bond, sitting next to him, joined in. She was puzzled about the book, so we explained the 70s and 80s horror boom and then it struck me. “When were you born?” I asked and that solved everything.

In the Regency Room, with (from left) Stuart Young, David 'Dai' Price, Terry Grimwood

(photo by Gary Cole-Wilkin)

I went to the Comics Panel which Jay was moderating (though my knowledge of comics is limited to Bullet and The Crunch from when I was a kid and 2000AD into the early 80s, or what Jay, Selina and Stuart Young tell me) and that was enjoyable, then found myself involved in a passionate discussion about the DC-52 (I think) with several folk, including Selina and a woman who clearly thought I knew more than I did.

Greg James caught up with me - Facebook friends for a while now, but our first face-to-face - and we went to the bar where he introduced me to his friends (hi Dolores and Jason!). I then went for a wander, checked out the art exhibition with Russell John Morgan and saw Jon Oliver, with whom I chatted about books and babies.

Arrangements had been made for dinner, so I met up with everyone outside the main entrance and our splinter group - me, Paul & Mandy, Stuart Hughes, Richard and Dai - decided to try out the Pint With A Pizza on the pier. It was a mistake - a grubby pub, cheap and nasty pizza - but the company was terrific and really made the evening. Walking with Mandy back to the hotel, we marvelled that everyone was dressed for summer yet it was 7.30, dark and the 1st of October - very odd.

On the pier, waiting for dinner, with Mandy Edwards, Stuart Hughes, Richard Farren Barber, Dai Price

(photo by Paul Edwards)

Chatting with Paul Edwards

(photo by Mandy Edwards)

The DCP/Hersham Horror went very well, with a good number of writers on hand and cake from Bev Chamberlain. Selina came by and we adopted her and I think she should have sat with us and signed some books.

Eating cake at the Alt-Dead launch, with Stuart Hughes, Dave Jeffery, Steve Lockley and Stuart Young. Peter Mark May hands out the grub!

(photo by Selina Lock)

Martin Roberts had collared me on the first day, telling me he was screening a short film based on Michael Marshall Smith’s “Later”, which is probably my favourite short story. I went into the Russell Room at 9pm - with John Travis, Jay & Selina, Pete, Chris and Stuart - with trepidation but I needn’t have worried, it’s a brilliantly made film, with great central performances from Neil Newbon and Nessa Wrafter and assured direction from Simon Duric (who used to be involved with the BFS). It’s also very touching, not quite reaching the poignancy of the story (which made me cry), but not falling far from it - I left the screening room straight away and had 5 minutes on my own.

Then it was on to the evening’s big events in the Regency Lounge. Pete got me and John Worley seats on the front row and I sat at the very end, in front of Jay & Selina. Teatro Proberto (John Llewellyn Probert and Thana Niveau) performed a stripped down panto-version of “The Blood On Satan’s Claw”, inventively playing all the parts themselves and it was hysterical, a brilliant production that had the audience howling. This was followed by the first set of Burlesque, as organised by Alessa Dark, a troupe of lovely ladies (and, later, a man who I will now always think of whenever I hear ‘Bright Eyes’ played) who put on a fine show (I’ve never seen one in real life, so I wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen). One lady came on - Baby Box, I think - and danced to ‘Good Times’, by INXS. All good so far. Our dancer got down to her stockings, knickers and bra and loosened the straps. She looked at me. I looked at her, nervously. She began to move across the stage, coming my way. “Oh no,” I thought, “go the other way.” She kept coming, stepped off the stage, smiled at me. I must have looked like a panicked rabbit to her, then she leaned forward and gave me a wiggle and there was a big reaction from the audience. For my part, I closed my eyes and heard Graham Joyce, sitting across from me, shouting about the unfairness of seat positions or something. Our dancer smiled at me, got back on stage and finished her set and it was terrific. Teatro Proberto came back, to perform “Corruption”, a film I haven’t seen but now desperately want to. It was another barn-storming show, with added puppets this time and one of the funniest things I’ve seen in ages. The burlesque came back, for another terrific set, ending with Alessa herself dressed as a wolf, dancing to Led Zeppelin. Great stuff.

I went to Ramsey Campbell’s Midnight Read, then headed to the bar and went over to see Esther/Alessa, to compliment her and her troupe for the great burlesque performance - she’d been so nervous beforehand, but it went down a storm.

Sunday 2nd October

Bloody roasting today. Up bright and early because I hadn’t heard the message that FCon attendees had until 4pm to check out, so I packed my bags and lugged them downstairs, then lugged them right back up again. I had breakfast with Trevor again, sharing the table with Simon Clark this time, who is a thoroughly nice chap. I went to Alison Littlewood’s reading in Bar Rogue and thoroughly enjoyed myself - she’s very talented and very nice, we only met this weekend and I was won over by her sheer enthusiasm (though her head-girl-style of getting stories in well in advance could get a bit wearing!). After another quick trip to the dealer room, I nipped into the “How To Market Your Novel” panel, moderated by my friend Gary McMahon. It was well attended, had some good names on the stage and there was plenty of good advice (though, on reflection, a lot of it seemed to come down to common sense). I was going to make a point about not giving friends all 5* reviews on Goodreads and Amazon (or your own stuff, for that matter), but there was a sea of hands each time Gary asked for questions. I stayed in the room for the Genre Movie Panel but it wasn’t as good as I’d hoped, though some panel members were very refreshing - especially Anne Billson and Stephen Gallagher.

Me, with the "Alt-Dead" poster

(photo by Peter Mark May)

Jay, Selina & I headed out into the Lanes and the sunshine. We had lunch in a pub, I got Matthew a finger-puppet and we headed back, expecting the banquet to have ended. It hadn’t, so we sat up on the bar terrace with Gary & Emily McMahon, the Marshall-Jones’, Dai Price and Rob Spalding. The banquet went on, the weather got warmer and people started to get cranky. By the time the hall was ready, most of us couldn’t get in and so stood in the doorways, watching.

Plenty has been written elsewhere about the awards, about what happened and about the reactions, so I won’t go into details here except that I was there, it was uncomfortable and I wish it hadn’t happened. I was glad when it was over, to be honest and as I collected the bags, I tried to block it out of my mind.

Since Brighton was mobbed, it took ages to get the car, we said our final goodbyes, then loaded up for our return ROADTRIP! (with Raven Dane on board this time, at least until Hemel Hempstead). The traffic was terrible and it took us well over an hour to get out of Brighton, but conversation was easy and brisk and kept us all going on the gruelling drive home. I finally got in at 10.30, a rucksack full of books heavier.

Apparently, this was the best attended Con in years (which I can well believe, there were a lot of people in that hotel) and I enjoyed The Albion, I had a good room and it was very convenient to pretty much everywhere I wanted to walk (though the lift breaking down wasn’t good, I had to help David Hebblethwaite downstairs at one point). The Con itself was fantastic, never a dull moment and that was helped immeasurably by the volunteer red-shirts who - I think - should have won an award themselves (especially the lovely Pixie Pants). The awards debacle aside, this was a terrific FantasyCon and I had a truly wonderful weekend, meeting up with loads of old friends and making plenty of new ones and coming away feeling fully recharged!

Roll on the next one!

I’ve missed out a whole host of people, I know, but it was also great to chat with (amongst many others); John Forth & Esther Sherman, Shaun Hamilton and his lovely wife, Ian Whates and Helen, Donna Scott, Neil Bond, Will Hill, Pablo & Mrs Cheesecake, Maura McHugh, Charles Rudkin, Dani & Mrs Serra, Rob Spalding, Anna Taborska, Reggie Oliver, Terry Grimwood, Steve Upham, Adam Nevill & his dad, Andy Bigwood, Roseanne Rabinowitz, Helen Hopley, Marie O’Regan, Paul Kane, Joe D’Lacey and Paul & Cath Finch.