Tales of the Hollow Earth

The Twenty Three : Number None : Lure

2012-01-23T15:46:00.000-08:00

The Twenty Three is a website i'm setting up to contain extras, extended scenes, b-sides, outtakes and brand new stories from the Tales of the Hollow Earth universe. It will all be material that adds to the story, but some of which i'm discarding from the printed comic in order to concentrate on the main plotline.

The Twenty Three : Number None : Lure

Lure, for example, introduces elements of Gudrun Black's character that would be useful to a reader of issue 3, so it's getting reprinted here, as well as in a coloured version in the next edition of issue 1.

It originally appeared in Daniel Clifford's A4 Adventure Arena. Daniel provided input on pacing and storytelling and made this a much tighter story, and I'm greatful for this and his permission to reprint.

Comics: words + pictures where time = space

2012-01-11T07:13:00.000-08:00

So, last night I did a presentation for Design Interest under the title "Comics: words + pictures where time = space", the aim of which was to talk around some of the issues of time and space in comics. The evening was excellent - good bunch of people and I had excellent fellow speakers, Rose Mockford (@mydesignmade) and Liz Douthwaite. Vicki Teinaki's take on the evening can be seen here.

Comics Time as in how long a comic takes to produce and read, as well as noting that time is in the hands of the reader.

How can the creator control both the perception of time in the story, as well as the time it takes to read - in order to properly pace a joke, for example?

Here's what I talked about, in brief, but in roughly the same order...

1,2,3,4

Steve Bell - Political Cartoons are usually single panels, since the story is happening elsewhere. A single panel is still read from left to right, though and is not read as a single moment in time.
Jack Comics - Provided the example of images colliding and suggesting stories.
Penny Arcade - An example of the standard format three panel web strip, and referenced Jimmy Carr's definition of a Joke as two stories colliding. Again, most of the story is not in the strip but in the archives and newsposts.
Scott McCloud - Understanding Comics - is of course, essential reading.
Calvin and Hobbes - Provided several example of the standard format four panel newspaper strip (a complete story being told in four panels.) as well as larger format illustrations of good pacing.
Tim Stout - Provided the Calvin and Hobbes example of a three act structure ready made exactly as I'd planned already, but with a better example.

Comics in Time and Space

This section focused on the accessibility and availability of comics and why and when this would make for good documentation, dissemination and education.

Comics with Problems - Provided the example of how to treat your Rifle like a Lady, by will Eisner.
The Google Chrome Comic - was by Scott McCloud.
Zine it Yourself is a local creator of zines to be found anywhere, any time.
Art Heroes are a local company providing comics workshops.

The Axis of Empathy

The Big Triangle was invented by Scott McCloud, minimalism on the horizontal axis, abstraction on the vertical.


Photo from http://twitter.com/vickytnz

In my examples (pictured), I had, moving up from reality towards abstraction...

Warlock Holmes by Paul Scott an excellent photo comic, ironically illustrating my assertion that photo comics don't really work. Well, except when they're tongue in cheek, and Paul has his firmly there.
Simon Bisley's Sláine the Horned God
Orbital, from Cinebook
Judge Dredd by Mick McMahon - Judge Dredd can tolerate quite a lot of abstraction.

Moving back from abstraction towards minimalism and empathy...

And in the middle I had...

Hellboy (more abstraction, in which Hellboy eats pancakes.)
Love and Rockets (more real)

Subsequent slides contained examples of charicature used in horror and dark tales from...

Time and Space in Comics

There was a lot of cross over between these examples, but broadly, I showed:

Comics using the full bleed to show that the edge of the page connects to bigger things:

Comics using a grid (and colours) to suggest (and then subvert) monotony and inevitability:

Subverted to devastating effect in:

We3 by Grant Morrison

Comics using full width panels to show an indeterminate, but lengthy, timescale:

Recommended Reading:

Scott McCloud:

Will Eisner:

Alan Moore:

Grant Morrison:

Also:

but most of all, for the best showcase of what's happening now in comics: 2000AD
and also, meet up with the Paper Jam Comics Collective on Thursday evenings in Newcastle's Travelling Man store. Follow @paperjamcc on twitter.

Thinking about Comics - things of interest.

2011-12-30T07:20:00.000-08:00

Things I read that made me think differently or just more about comics in some way or other in the last year (or so). Here's a post to remind myself what they all were.

Sugar Glider 2 - by Gary Bainbridge and Daniel Clifford

Raising it's already impressive game from Issue 1, Sugar Glider 2 introduced new ideas, new characters and achieves a strong sense of place and being there. The difference between how this is handled in 1 and 2 is well worth looking closely at.

The "I'm Sugar Glider" panel is one of my favourite comic panels of the year. I know that both Gary and Daniel take their storytelling very seriously, and there are some sections of this that I've been back and forward over to see how they work. I'm really looking forward to issue 3. It's good.

Low Life - by Rob Williams, and D'Israeli (created by Rob Williams and Henry Flint)

I've read the latest two series of this in 2000AD, and so not knowing his history I'm never quite sure what Dirty Frank is capable of. This is possibly the point: his antagonists, and possibly also he doesn't either. Or if he will even do what he is capable of once he does know. Dirty Frank is a brilliantly imagined character: fragile and powerful in unexpected ways.

Stories that are both strong, character driven and laugh out loud funny. Low Life, Zombo (Al Ewing and Henry Flint) and Dredd (John Wagner mostly) are all capable of achieving this, and I'm pleased to say that 2000AD has definitely reclaimed it's place at the top of my must read list in the last two or three years.

Actually, the other thing that Low Life, Zombo and Dredd are capable of is managing to fit a story into five page episodes: always introducing the scene for new readers, always maintaing the pace for existing readers, either week on week or in collections.

Beasts of Burden - by Evan Dorkin and Jill Thompson

Splendid. A while ago I started writing some short stories (as part of my Story a Day in May) about a tribe of Rats, and would really like to translate these into comics and expand on them. I've not been able to figure out how to do animal comics without anthropomorphising them physically to some degree (A topic covered also in Bryan Talbot's excellent talk on the subject which i've seen three times now) or giving them the ability to carry swords of wear monocles.

Beasts of Burden shows how this can be done: in both the words and pictures. It a beautiful book, and I'm not sure enough people have read it. You should.

SuperHuman - by Michael Carroll

The first of (I believe) the second sequence of New Heroes books from Michael Carroll, which Michael very generously swapped for my own Tales of the Hollow Earth. Strong characters here, and strong development too including a very dark and not yet resolved subplot for the heroes.

This is a novel rather than a comic, though it tackles comics traditional subject matter and is actually pitched much more at comics traditional expected audience than comics currently are. Very difficult to imagine though, what format this would have taken if it was a comic, or why Michael chose prose rather than comics for this story (he is also a writer for 2000AD and the Megazine).

So, I'm planning to read more of these in 2012, as I really want to think more about this and also read more about these people - especially that of the main villain. He did seem to have been on the cusp of some self awareness in the final few pages, but this may be unlikely as those pages may have been his last. We'll see.

I might re-read Wild Cards too.

The Lovecraft Anthology (Volume 1 Edited by Dan Lockwood)

Following 2010's best single web comic: His Face All Red, i'd been thinking a lot about horror (or comics of a dark nature) and how they appear to be working best when drawn in a cartoony or ligne claire style (see also Cinebooks excellent 'Green Manor').

Understanding Comics 101 would say the minimalist creates empathy and this more nieve style might imply that the characters are childlike in their fragility, but I think that there's more to why thus combination works yet. I think horror may be the best genre in which to ask the question: how are comics different to books and films.

Anyway, the Lovecraft anthology from Self Made Hero is a pretty beautiful piece of work (as are all of the books they publish), and it would be remiss of me not to point out that the many talented artists and writers successfully do in fact find ways to express unimaginable horror in comics. That's some achievement.

Nic Wilkinson and Ian Sharman's Lettering Workshop at ThoughtBubble 2011.

This was not a technical talkas I'd expected, but was instead focused very much on artistic and storytelling concerns of relevance to not just the letterers but artists and writers also. Some very interesting points were made on the subject of reading order and pacing control that I've yet to fully process, but I have been back through my own work with an eye on 'what should I have done here'.

---

So, yeah, those were, for me, an great set of examples on why and how comics forms and formats work, how they differs from other mediums and how they are better or worse for some genres than others. All are well worth your time.

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-18T10:22:00.000-08:00

Dr Sketchy - Tis the Season to get Sketchy

2011-12-14T14:56:00.000-08:00

Here are my images from the Dr Sketchy - Tis the Season to get Sketchy life drawing and cabaret at World Head Quarters on Sunday. Images in reverse chronological order, so the afternoon finished with....

The Creative Martyrs. Gustav and Jacob Martyr two splendid and somewhat terrifying fellows are quite, quite brilliant, and I advise you to see them if you should ever get the opportunity. This drawing I think I might have a go at inking and possibly colouring at some point:

Meg La Mania - the fantastic Dr Sketchy's resident singer. Tinsel is extremely hard to draw, but I was pretty pleased with these head and shoulder portraits:

Amelie Soleil is the chief and brains behind Dr Sketchy Newcastle, and I've inadvertently made her look possibly too strict here (that's a flower in her hand). Amelie performed an very splendid and hazardous looking magic act that involved very sharp edges...

Drawings wise, though, the top one seems a little too static, though I think I managed to get the low lighting around her face. The second, more sketchy drawing seems to have more life to it.

We arrived late, partway through a series of rapid poses from Trixie D Licious - hence the really sketchy beginnings that I'm actually quite pleased with. Moved onto pencil for the last portrait, but have far too many lines here.

Trixie's burlesque performance was quite frankly stunning. Through which the audience maintained a polite and respectful silence, possibly inappropriately so: it was a Sunday afternoon and I think she took us somewhat by surprise?

So, as Amelie Soleil later pointed out: it's cold up there, but despite our (or at least, my) struggling to find the correct etiquette for Trixie's turn, we had a great afternoon: all the performers were fantastic. We'll be there next time, possibly (having seen what is possible) with an iPad, and a Gin and Tonic might also be appropriate. Excellent.

Photo's on the Dr Sketchy Newcastle facebook page.

Life Drawing from a while back at the Mushroom Works

2011-12-14T10:44:00.000-08:00

Having attended Dr Sketchy's Newcastle this weekend, I was reminded to upload some older life drawing that I did last year at the Mushroom Works (I thought I already had) If you're in Newcastle and interested in doing life drawing, I recommend checking those two places out.

I'll get the Sketchy's set up soon. Here are the Mushroom works set:

Canny Comic Con : The Aftermath

2011-12-13T12:24:00.000-08:00

Well, it happened: Newcastles many and various comics groups and fans finally got a canny comic con for this millennium.

Thanks to Alexi Conman, Newcastle city library and everyone who helped out, was a guest, did a talk, manned a stall, ran a workshop, helped people find what they were looking for and the five hundred or so people who attended, it was, to my mind, a very very fine day and most excellent success.

The Canny Comic Con is GO!

Highlights for me were many and various, but it's always a pleasure to have an opportunity to catch up with Ben Clark (Magic Beans Comics), Paul Scott (Omnivistascope), Graham Pearce (Sgt Mike Battle), Stacey Whittle (Small Press Big Mouth), Leonie O'Moore and Al Ewing (Zombo, Judge Dredd) and meet a great many people for whom up north is down south - in particular:

Gordon Robertson and Luke Halsall of the Glasgow League of Writers who I'm now hoping to be working with at some point in the future.
Ed Murphy of Rough Cut Comics, who I first ran into at Thought Bubble and whose enthusiasm for the con and comics knows no bounds that I could see.
Gary Erskine, whose Roller Grrrls project lured me in with sexy and powerful artwork to reveal an extremely well thought out project with a very human core to it. Looking forward to this one.


Graham Pearce and Al Ewing	Gary Erskine

...and of course the Paper Jam Comics Collective, whose own Andy Waugh chaired or took part in several of the talks; Jack Fallows, who opened proceedings with the first talk; Mike Thompson manning the Travelling Man table; Britt, who I shared a table with; and Ian Mayor who acted as people wrangler in chief. Others running workshops I'll mention below. And this lot who heroically manned the Canny Communal table:

The Canny Table: Terry, Matt, Lydia and En

I didn't make many of the talks as I was mostly occupying my stand during the day. The two that I did make were excellent:

Bryan Talbot's Grandville and the Anthropomorphic Tradition is a talk i've seen a few times and which I don't tire of: it's constantly evolving and always fascinating. See it if you can, and this time round he had preview cover artwork for Grandville: Bête Noire, which we're told will be a take on James Bond. It looked smart. Bryan is a class act and was the first guest to confirm for the con. You should all buy Grandville and see his talk if ever you get the opportunity.
Dr Mel Gibson's talk Studying Comics: Where to start? demonstrated that there's a world of literature beyond Scott McCloud. My Recommendation is to check out her website: www.dr-mel-comics.co.uk

Ingi, from Tees Toons. With Isaac, Mark and Jacob

The atmosphere... for the whole day reminded me of HiEx, in being bouncy, easy going and family friendly, which is a sure sign of something going right.

The all ages workshops and competitions from the fantastic Cuttlefish Comics, Tees Toons, Art Heroes and the lovely Brittany Coxon.
Judge Dredd and the Readers of the Lost Art giving away free comics.
Newcastle City Library whose staff were entirely brilliant, but also, just the fact of hosting in a community centre rather than a professional convention centre made for an excellent mix of kids and kurious.

Other notes:

The list of people I didn't speak to nearly enough and/or haven't mentioned here is enormous

Paul Regan has the power to make cigarettes
hover in front of his face awaiting their turn.


Spleenal by Nigel Auchterlounie, looks filthy.	One of Doug's first stories for an american publisher was one of my favourite Grant Morrison Doom Patrol stories.

Gary Bainbridge, who I typically
didn't get to talk to enough.

Roll on Canny Comic Con 2012.
More photo's here.

Update (read more if you like!)

Alexi Conman's thoughts on the day and the celebration of comics
I didn't mention the Viz, while I respect it a lot it's not really my thing. However: Ian Mayor's report for Bleeding Cool rightly addresses why their presence was essential and excellent.
Cuttlefish's Canny Comic Con Roundup
Ingi talks about the monsters
Andy Waugh reports

The Canny Comic Con - It Is Nearly Time

2011-12-07T11:24:00.000-08:00

This Saturday, it will be, as I shall never tire from pointing out, the Canny Comic Con. It will be magnificent. It's free, it's at Newcastle City Library.

Poster by Cuttlefish and I

So, what will it have? I'll tell you what it'll have:

Family Friendly Workshops!
Talks and Panels!
A Drink/Draw Launch Party on Friday evening at the Tyneside Cinema!
Guests! including (featuring even) but most assuredly not limited to:

Bryan Talbot
Nigel Auchterlounie
Doug Braithwaite
Alex Collier
Paul Davidson
Simon Donald
Gary Erskine
Al Ewing
Steven Finch
Mary M Talbot
Suzy Varty

You should be there from about 9:50ish if you want to catch the first talks. It'll be great. Want to know more, follow @cannycomiccon and #cannycc

Tales of the Hollow Earth Issue 2: Entomology - 2nd Printing, New Cover

2011-12-03T12:03:00.000-08:00

Coming soon to a Canny Comic Con near you.

Also, if you're a google+ kind of person, Tales of the Hollow Earth now has a page on that system.

Made in Newcastle Christmas Market

2011-12-02T11:28:00.000-08:00

Why it's the Made in Newcastle Christmas Market this Sunday!

The days are just packed:

The market is happening a the Royal Station Hotel, which is just beside Newcastle Central Station.

Proceeds from the £1 entry fee will go towards future Made In Newcastle projects, workshops, exhibitions and events.

RSVP our event on Facebook and help spread the word

PaperJamComicsCollective : "Alcohol, and that"

2011-12-02T06:22:00.000-08:00

The latest anthology from the Paper Jam Comics Collective: Alcohol, and that is more or less complete. I initially didn't think that I'd be able to contribute, but myself and the lovely Britt jumped in at the last possible minute to work on the cover. I pencilled, Britt inked, we both coloured. Here it is:

Now it just needs to get printed, but it will doubtless be ready in time for the magnificent Canny Comic Con

Entomology Redux : Digitally Remastered.

2011-11-30T12:15:00.000-08:00

With the move of Tales of the Hollow Earth 3 to colour, and what with issue 2 (Entomology) having had a pretty rushed final few pages and a terrible, terrible print job, i'm digitally remastering it.

Never go back, I know... but... damnit, i'm redrawing all the balloons, colouring all the pages and fixing some of the panels. Some quite radically.

The new colour version of issue 2 will be available at The Canny Comics Con on December the 10th. The new version will cost £3 unless you had a copy of the previous print in which case it'll cost you £2. There weren't many of you and I know who you are :-)

Canny Comic Con - poster number 3

2011-11-28T14:17:00.000-08:00

The second poster for the Canny Comic Con is above. Art byCuttlefish Comics, and design by me. It shall be awesome.

Canny Comic Con - poster number 2

2011-11-28T00:03:00.000-08:00

The second poster for the Canny Comic Con is below. Art by Cuttlefish Comics, and design by me. Confirmed guests so far:

Bryan Talbot
Nigel Auchterlounie, Alex Collier
Paul Davidson, Simon Donald
Al Ewing, Mary M Talbot

Gary Bainbridge, Mack Chater, Brittany Coxon
Cuttlefish, Jack Fallows, A.J. Garrett
En Gingerboom, Ingi Jensson, Leonie O'Moore
Graham Pearce, Paul Scott, Paul Thompson
Andrew Waugh, Stacey Whittle
Terry Wiley , Lydia Wysocki

Paper Jam Comics Collective
Drink and Draw Social Club
Travelling Man
Forbidden Planet
Readers of the Lost Art

Canny Comic Con - poster number 1

2011-11-27T10:31:00.000-08:00

The first poster for the Canny Comic Con is below. Art by Cuttlefish Comics, and design by me. I'm also an exhibiting guest, which is really nice, but look at the others! Not shown on this poster (but watch this space) - Al Ewing of Zombo/Judge Dredd fame! How awesome is that?

Girls from Mars at Thought Bubble

2011-11-17T06:01:00.000-08:00

Well, quite a bit has happened in the Hollow Earth HQ since the last preview post. Quotes from printers have been received, discarded, negotiated and re-thought. Seems most printers who are interested in doing the stapling, cutting and collating don't have a price point for black and white.

After extensive discussions on print production standards with the extremely helpful staff at That's Bang On, I've decided that Tales of the Hollow Earth will be going colour from issue 3 onwards.

If the proofs I've spent the last few nights working on are anything to judge by, I'm going to be going to Thought Bubble with my best work ever. If you want to see what that looks like and maybe even obtain a copy, I'll be sharing table 131 with Britt and Cuttlefish Comics. That's where you can find me.

I think it looks amazing and i'm really happy with it. Here's the cover:

The story continues Astrid Moriarty's investigation into the Boltzmann's Eye manifestations and also features Gudrun Black, who first appeared in the four page strip: Lure as part of Daniel Clifford's all ages anthology A4 Adventure Comics. That story will be reprinted as a backup story in the next printing of Tales of the Hollow Earth Issue 1, which will be recoloured to fit the new format.

The back cover features a drawing of Astrid and an Angler Fish, by mister Ian Mayor. It's great.

Anyway, here's a preview page:

See you all at Thought Bubble, yes?

Tales of the Hollow Earth 3: Girls From Mars

2011-11-12T05:24:00.001-08:00

Coming Soon. Interior page preview:

Scanning and Pollen: Prints available on Etsy and from Bondgate Gallery

2011-08-21T11:28:00.000-07:00

I now have two of my prints from the Cosmology series available to buy on Etsy. Cosmology is an exploration of the symbol system within my comic 'Tales of the Hollow Earth', which will be reprinted and available soon.

LuxPollen is highly dangerous: accidentally created, it proliferates the architecture and design of Novalucia to any receptive environment.

Printed by Bondgate Gallery, they're both 16 inch giclee print onto 240gsm ultra matt paper, with a two inch black mount (so the finished product is 20 inches square), in a limited edition of 24.

SCANNING

POLLEN

They're £42 each, mounted but not framed. You can get them framed with non reflective glass from Lynn at Bondgate Gallery for £79 each. Plus postage costs.

Tales of the Hollow Earth : Cosmology

2011-04-11T10:38:00.000-07:00

Enquiring minds would like to know what I've been up to.

I'm a pretty crap blogger, and there are quite a few things have happened since October last year. I just haven't wrote about most of them.

I have very good reasons for this, primary amongst these is that I always forget to, but also that I seem to spend a lot of my time helping out with events and the like and neglect my own stuff.

So, to cut a long story short some of those things are enumerated below:

failed to produce a comic at the Martin Newman organised 24 Hour Comics Day. But I stayed awake and it all worked out for the best.
finished Tales of the Hollow Earth : Entomology, and debuted it at ThoughtBubble. It's allright I think. Getting better.
curated (with Britt and Martin) an exhibition at Made in Newcastle based on the comic I edited for the Paper Jam Comics Collective anthology 'History...and that'. I was very proud of this and think it went really well.
helped out at the International Mini Comics Day a bit, but had decided by this point to look after myself for a change and work on my exhibition. Zine King Mike D and Comics Marathon Master Martin Newman were doing a bloody excellent job making this a great family day in the really excellent surroundings of the Star and Shadow Cinema.

The exhibition, though is what I'm now blogging about.

Here's the promo image:

So what is this here 'Tales of the Hollow Earth : Cosmology' exhibition at the wonderful Made In Newcastle on Grainger Street all about then?

To attempt to answer that question I have written the following blurb.

Tales of the Hollow Earth : Cosmology

Ten pictures by Paul Thompson

ONE : Games

The best board games are those whose depth of complexity and strategy comes from a very small number of easily understood elements and rules.

Chess is considered to be a very deep game – it has six types of piece and, including the rules for their movement, winning conditions and a couple of exceptions, about a dozen rules. Our greatest computers can match our greatest human players.

Go has only one type of piece, and despite or because of this simplicity is so deep that computers still cannot match the best players.

Given a tiny number of rules of engagement, then where does the conflict come from?

TWO : Physics

Why is there something and not nothing, and what is it all made out of?

All matter is made out of molecules and molecules are made out of atoms, are made out of electrons, are made out of elementary particles. These are far too numerous and untidy for anyone to believe that they’re the final word.

But even if physicists successfully pair it down further, where does my motivation come from?

THREE : Stories

Various theories of elements have existed – most commonly four or five, being variations on the theme of: Water, Air, Fire and Earth, occasionally subdividing one, or adding another such as spirit or void.

Unlike the elements of quantum physics, these elements are often associated with properties we would recognise in our daily lives (Hot, Fluid, etc.) both as physical phenomena and componants of a personality/emotional states. These kinds of ideas/metaphors are used as component parts in the system of Tarot.

The twenty two cards of the Major Arcana could represent a single story, which would not be unfamiliar to viewers of the Star Wars Trilogy. Or the Matrix: The Fool, The Magician, The High Priestess, ending with The Sun, Judgement and a return to The World.

FOUR : Comics

Show people two dots and a line and they will see a face. Show them two pictures next to each other and they will begin to construct a story. Now you understand comics.

I write a comic called Tales of the Hollow Earth. The stories in this comic are inspired by science and the tendency to see meaning where there may not necessarily be any.

But what would the subatomic, elemental particles of a fictional word look like? The quanta of Middle Earth is probably very different to the quanta of the universe of Victor Frankenstein, The Justice League of America, Doctor Benway or Calvin and Hobbes.

FIVE: Finding Meaning where it may not Be?

So this exhibition represents early attempts at mapping the fundamental principles on which the universe of my Tales of the Hollow Earth is built. Where does the conflict come from, in that world, where does the meaning and aesthetics come from.

By early attempts, I mean to say that these pictures, which I hope you like on some level, are experiments with these ideas, and not expected to be successful. Recurring themes, some obvious, some not, run through the series. Some of them were deliberate, some I spotted afterwards, and some are entirely your own.

SIX: Why is there Something and not Nothing?

I’m thankful to Made in Newcastle for the opportunity to have a deadline to work to, without which none of this would likely ever to have became a real, nailed to the wall exhibition.

Why you should care about this personal cosmology isn’t for me to say, I’m afraid and I’m not going to argue strongly that you should at this stage - it's an experiment and a work in progress for me. That said, I hope it works for you on some level.

Thanks for taking the time to look though, please let me know if you got anything out of it. I hope that this meandering was useful to you on some level.

Let me know:

Twitter: @paulxthompson
Email: paulxthompson@gmail.com

I’m also working on a board game.

Tell me about my Icosahedron (and win an art print)

2011-02-02T05:46:00.000-08:00

This is for an art project of mine involving modelling gothic steampunk spores for Made In Newcastle.

The first to provide the answers to these questions will be the recipient of a print of one of the final images, printed by Bondgate Galleries. Which will be very nice, and probably about 12” square. This is a very early test render, the final product will be much more awesome.

Very early test sketch of the kind of prints i'll be creating.

So then... in an Icosahedron as described in the diagram below, O is the centre point of the whole shape, D is the north pole. (Obviously i'm looking for angles on an actual Icosahedron, not the angles on the picture)

Now the answer to Q1 may well be 60° and the answers to Q2 may be 90°, but I'm thinking not... Even if so, confirmation is valuable to me.

Q1) What is the angle DOB?

Q2) If we call the mid point of the triangle CBK X, and the mid point of the triangle CLK Y, and assume that they’re not at 90°...

A) What is the angle DOX?
B) What is the angle DOY?

Q3) If we call the midpoint of the triangle DCB Z, What is the angle DOZ?

(if you know this stuff, please post some kind of explanation not just numbers though!)

Merry Christmas

2010-12-26T08:44:00.000-08:00

Hope everyone is having a great christmas! Between now and 2011, I should really get round to writing about all the cool comics, art, craft and awesomeness that has been going on in the last few months.

I've been busy. Far to busy to blog :-)

24 Hour Comics Day

2010-09-29T01:54:00.000-07:00

This weekend I'll be taking part in the 24 Hour Comics Day event in Heaton, organised by Martin Newman.

You can view the pain, suffering, coffee addiction, words, pictures and magic on the blog set up specifically to monitor those things here: http://newcastle24hrcomic.blogspot.com/

I've done 24 Hour Comics twice before, first time round I failed to complete the comic, though all that's really left is tidying it up a bit and lettering properly. I might get round to this sometime.

Second time round was at the Learning Revolution / P.R.E.S.S. event in March 2010 at the Tyneside Cinema, which was much more successful as I decided to improvise and experiment with a silent comic.

It didn't make much sense but it was fun. I'll probably print it up soon, but it can be temporarily viewed on Google Docs here. This is Gudrun Black, likely to appear in quite a few comics due to appear before the end of 2010, most importantly, A4 Comics Presents.

Influence Map

2010-09-24T11:11:00.000-07:00

They're all the rage, these influence maps. Click to embiggen. In no particular order:

Gustav Klimt
German Expressionism
Antoni Gaudi
Dave McKean
Francis Picabia
Paul Laffoley
Tristan Tzara
Marcel Duchamp
Jack Kirby
Larry Marder
Man Ray
Mike Mignola
Kevin O'Neill
Richard Case
Simon Larbalastier
Vaughan Oliver
Pablo Picasso

So what have we learned?

I like pictures which are mostly monochrome, usually brown with occasional red highlights, spindly lines, distorted figures, diagrams, nebulous shadows and boobs.

Tower of Babel - Charity Auction

2010-09-21T13:16:00.000-07:00

A 14 inch square photographic print will be part of the Crisis Skylight Charity auction at Made in Newcastle on Saturday 25th September.

It's one of the last hand done test prints, and came out slightly darker than the finished prints, but there's only me notices this I guess. If anyone is interested but can't make it to Newcastle, let me know.

This is not a digital image, it's a hand printed photograph of a four dimensional collage.

Unfocused Plasticine

2010-07-19T14:27:00.001-07:00

Messing about this evening, felt a bit unfocused... Click image for maximum giffyness.

EGO and Beach

2010-06-28T12:23:00.000-07:00

Out and about - attended the EGO festival in Durham, Britt, Daniel and Jack, representing the Paper Jam Comics Collective, then went for a walk up the coast. A good day.

How I Do Speech Bubbles in Photoshop

2010-06-17T04:44:00.000-07:00

This is a real quick tutorial knocked up as a reminder - obviously I'd normally be paying a lot more attention to exact positioning, font sizes and line thicknesses, spending a sickening amount of time selecting the wrong pen tool.

Font wise, I'm using Digital Strip, free from Blambot here, but in this particular comic, I'll be looking for something more European, maybe in proper case.

Picasso Stories

2010-06-13T12:13:00.000-07:00

Work in progress on my Picasso story for the Paperjam Comics Collective "Art ... and that" Remember that if you're planning to be involved with this one the deadline is this week.

A bit ambitious to do a comic story about the greatest artist what ever lived, but some of the Picasso's are starting to look like him (the left hand ones are best here) and the cubist forms and tones are working out well.

I reckon I'll not be inking this one but messing with the tones from a scan of the pencils. Hope it'll work out!

ALSO! Other Art... and that previews, both of which contain cocks...

Artex & Cosmology

2010-06-02T13:50:00.000-07:00

Fake Polaroids : Artex & Cosmology

A bit of messing about with depth, light and fake polaroidiness. Rushed and ill so taken this from where I was sitting. The Shakeit app for the iphone emulates the polaroid green/gloom to the degree where every pic I take reminds me of living in a student flat. Granted, the Artex in the hallway doesn't help and needs to go.

I think the fake polaroid is a fad i've just got to work through. Bear with me.

Antiques

2010-06-01T14:33:00.000-07:00

Fake Polaroid : Antiques

The Best of All Possible Playgrounds

2010-06-01T12:37:00.001-07:00

A Writer's Extreme Creativity Challenge: Write a story a day, in May. That's it: http://storyaday.org/. Obviously it's not May any more - wrote these last week on a tiny laptop on trains and the like... so expect mistakes

#19 : The Best of All Possible Playgrounds

Through a small gate at the end of an old street in London was an unassuming wrought iron gate, a gate which lead down a leafy overgrown pathway to a magical kingdom. The best playground there had ever been. Swings. Roundabouts. Climbing frames. A wooden castle with a forty foot helter skelter. An intricate giant spiral slide.

And while this may seem underwhelming to you in these days of xbox, iphone and twenty four hour news coverage, the kids put these things aside and flocked there whenever they could.

And if this does seem underwhelming to you, you are drunk or too old and should not enter. For while children will leave their multicoloured screens and have a great time in the morning dew and afternoon sun, the park would always eat alive any adult who should set foot inside.

Sam and Eric stood by the gate. Eric's younger sister, Charleen had just ran inside with her friends Alice and Kylie. Sam and Eric hesitated.

“Do you think... maybe... we're a bit old now?” said Sam

“I'm fourteen in July” said Eric

“Fourteen is definitely too old. Jeremy was fourteen, and went in there with Catherine. She came out and he didn't. Said he'd tried to feel her up, but she wouldn't say what happened after. She won't come near, now” said Sam

“Jeremy deserved it” said Eric

“You're fancy her? Hah!” said Sam “If you want to go find Catherine, we can do that instead, but she hangs out with those lads from East”

“You're only just thirteen” said Eric “You should go in. I'll wait here.”

Sam thought about Charleen. He wanted to go in the park, but he didn't care for rope swings and climbing frames.

“I think... I don't think it's how old you are in years” said Sam “Got nothing to do with Birthdays. I think the park decides who's adult and who isn't”

“You want to go find Catherine?” said Eric.

“Are you not worried about your sister?” said Sam.

“Are you?”

And so they waited.

Louise Bourgeois

2010-06-01T10:29:00.001-07:00

Louise Bourgeois

seems like someone I should have known better.

As it was, I saw this amazing bloody giant spider in Tokyo.

PS: Gary Bainbridge is more eloquent than I am, here.

The Women of New Aretha

2010-05-29T07:57:00.000-07:00

A Writer's Extreme Creativity Challenge: Write a story a day, in May. That's it: http://storyaday.org/. From this point on they're written on a tiny laptop on trains and the like... so expect mistakes

#18 : The Women of New Aretha

Anja stood at the gate of the village of New Aretha and looked out, past the graveyard, across the plain.

A distant spiral of dust told her that someone was coming. Another bounty hunter blown in across the desert. Coming for the same thing as the last one. Coming to find out what had happened to the last one. Maybe this one was different, maybe this one...

The last one had been a government man, he'd been sent not to kill or fight, but to try to make a deal, but this had been tried before and it had been made clear that there would be no deal: it was not a matter of improving the offer.

Their town was protected and they would not yield to the bribes and threats of the wealthy and violent. Their blessing was there's alone, and it would surely be taken away if they were anything less than pure.

For it was known in certain circles of government and church, a rumour passed around a select few that any child born of the women of New Aretha would live forever, would live to see Heaven itself grow from the desert sands.

The man would be here in an hour. Anja and her sisters began to prepare their knives.

The Big Sneeze

2010-05-29T07:41:00.000-07:00

#17 : The Big Sneeze

Act One

The heat beat down on Joe. His hayfever caused him to sneeze violently every six seconds. Despite the regularity each spasm came out of nowhere. He pushed his way as quickly as he could through the corn field. His eyes itched terribly. He sneezed with a a force that almost knocked him off his feet. This hadn't been a good escape plan. Looking behind him, the police were entering the field. Atchoo.

Act Two

He wiped his nose, then wiped his hand on his pants, a futile attempt to stem the constant supply of wet snot. He wished he'd taken tissues as well as cigarettes from the shop. He considered using one of the pile of ten pound notes that he'd stuffed into his back pockets.

If the police were entering the field, that meant they hadn't managed to get anyone in front of him yet, there was no helicopter, and he still had a chance of getting out of this. The corn was about five foot tall. It should be possible to lose them in here, to double back, or to exit the field at a hidden point by the stream. The stream. He could wash the pollen from his face. Atchoo.

Joe ducked down and found a gap in the corn from the tractor's wheels. Following this back would lead him directly back past the policemen if they didn't find it first. He began making his way back. Atchoo.

Shite they were closer than expected. He hit the ground and listened as they pushed their way through the field. Passing him... Atch....

Act Three

Joe's nose burned as he held in the sneeze. Holding his breath. Forcing the spasm back into every other muscle, and concentrating on keeping them all in check. Tears streamed from his eyes, squeezed through eyelids that barely contained swollen eyeballs. His eardrums threatened to burst.

And the policemen had passed. He was in with a chance. Atchoo.

Mr Roberts' New Friends

2010-05-28T03:27:00.000-07:00

#16 : Mr Roberts' New Friends

Mr Roberts awoke early, as was his habit. He lived alone and looked after himself. His large garden and the woodlands surrounding him met all of his needs, he thought.

Again, the same dream of an alien landscape, terrible gigantic vegetation, a red sun glowing in a night sky. Hovering nearby were seven inverted cones of glowing orange material. Eight foot tall by two foot wide at the top, tapering in a lumpy, uneven way down to a collection of gnarled tentacles.

They hovered a few feet above the earth, their tentacles used for tasting the air, feeding and also communication. In the dream he understood: their world was dying, and their race heading rapidly towards extinction. He could help them, they needed bodies in his world. In return, they could give him... well what did he want?

Immortality? Females? Seeds? How do you humans reproduce anyway?

Mr Roberts had more down to earth needs... just wanted the dreams to stop... would be happy to have his loft fixed and any rats that might be living up there exterminated. There was something about those rats. While he was thinking about it if that city chef and his lackeys who had moved into the farm further up the valley could be exterminated too? Good idea, the girl with the camera – she could stay. Maybe chase her down the valley a bit?

He would be a hero, yes, that plan could work. He would cook rabbit. He was getting good at it and had some really nice mustard and plenty of broad beans.

Mr Roberts breakfasted and then got to work in his allotment. The leaks were going unloved, potatoes left largely to defend themselves from insects. The pride of his allotment waere the carrots.

They were growing beautifully now he had been given the formulas for their food, the shapes to scratch into the earth, the words to make the rain the 'right kind of rain'. His new friends were growing. The would be ready soon. Ready to make good on their side of the bargain.

From their vantage point by the greenhouse, bunnies looked on with envious, fearful eyes. Harvey the rat watched too, from a gap in the roof tiles.

The Station

2010-05-27T04:56:00.000-07:00

A Writer's Extreme Creativity Challenge: Write a story a day, in May. That's it: http://storyaday.org/. I've not had access to the internet for over a week, but I have been writing. Still, I got a few behind, but I can start uploading them now.

#15 : The Station

Seems I'd fallen asleep on the train and missed my station. Not a completely unique event, and it seemed to be an early foggy morning outside. I cast my mind back, trying to figure out where I'd been the previous evening.

Nope. Nothing.

I stood up and surveyed the carriage. No other passengers, but the carriage hadn't been cleaned – coffee cups, sandwich boxes, crisp packets... bags and luggage. The other passengers had got off without taking their luggage.

I checked the time. 7:42am and looked out of the window. Fields, the occasional tree. Morning dew. The fog meant that I couldn't see far, but it appeared that we were at a small country stopping platform, with a tiny shed acting as a waiting room and office.

I made my way to the door, luggage, coats and food had all been left exactly where they were.

Leaning out of the window to reach the handle, I jumped down onto the platform. There was no-one around – the railway line stretched as far as I could see in a straight line in both directions. The train itself was a two carriage cross country engine. No sign of a driver.

There were a number of suitcases and bags lying on the platform, some of these looked very old. Amongst cases and boxes was a coffin with a note pinned to it. I picked up the note. It said:

“Important: Get in the coffin before 8am. Use the handles provided to hold the lid closed. We will fetch you. Do not leave the station”

I looked at the coffin, it was a solid old black box. I opened the lid. The edges had been lined with a rubber sealant of some kind. Some door handles had been screwed onto the inside of the lid to enable a person to hold it closed from the inside. Checking further I realised that the coffin had two wheels and a rope attached to its base.

The rope stretched away from the platform, into the field. I followed the rope down to the edge of the field where a track had been scraped out of the grass. The rope was taught, and the marks on the track indicated that the coffin had often been dragged this way.

I walked up the track following the rope until I arrived at a post with another note on it. It said “Danger of being eaten. Do not pass this point unless completely covered” I looked back – the small station and the train which I'd left was barely visible through the fog. I looked forward into the fog.

I could make out vague forms floating in the fog, which if not for the warning I would have mistaken for something floating on my eyeball. I couldn't make out the details, but they seemed to be getting closer. I retreated back to the station.

As I was stepping back onto the platform I noticed the rope jump, and very slowly, the coffin began to scrape its way across the platform towards the field. I reckoned I had a few minutes before it reached the sign, but not particularly willing to jump into a coffin on the evidence provided, I ran up to the waiting room shed.

I quickly pushed open the door – it had been glued shut with the same kind of resin around the edges of the coffin. I jumped. Amongst the luggage was a human skeleton, in its hands had been a tube of bathroom sealant. One of the opened cases looked like it had belonged to a plumber or a builder of some kind. I looked around the room – attempts had been made to seal the edges of all of the windows and doors, as well as occasional knot holes in the wood.

Outside, the coffin had been dragged about half way up the track and the mist was getting thicker. The forms in the mist seemed to have long, waving strands, stretching many meters into the air, becoming more distinct.

I dumped my bag. There would be no room for it in the coffin. I ran towards the box.

History and That Preview

2010-05-20T14:14:00.000-07:00

Ok, i've taken a couple of days off from the Story a Day in order to get my History and That submission in for the Paper Jam Comics Collective. Technically, it's a story, but for some masochistic reason I'm not including it as part of my story a day. Hmm. I'll get back on that tomorrow.

Anyway, it's all about German/Polish folklore surrounding the presence of nightmares, particularly those nasty sleep paralysis beasties that squat on your chest. Here's the first few panels:

The drawing was done really quick just before the deadline, and is very scribbly. It's my first go at drawing entirely with the wacom tablet. Because you can draw in white on black as well as black on white in photoshop, parts of it come out looking a bit like an etching or woodblock print, which is nice. I've also gone for proper case, basic serif fonts rather than comic ones, and let photoshop handle the caption bubbles as a style. It seems to fit quite nicely I think, different looking and somehow 'right' for subject.

Folks at the PJCC meeting this evening seemed to find the monster disturbing and cute in equal parts, so that's a victory in my book.

What else can we expect to see in History ...and That, then? Preview images can be seen on these here blogs:

And many more! It's going to be proper good this one.

Culture Clash

2010-05-16T13:41:00.000-07:00

A Writer's Extreme Creativity Challenge: Write a story a day, in May. That's it: http://storyaday.org/. Three behind now. I might catch up this evening...

#14 : Culture Clash

The deck of the steamboat was crowded with local dignitaries, scientists, artists, writers and politicians. It was a warm but dark day, the sky above the Mississippi populated by dark clouds. The air was damp. People were heard to ask why they should not be having this party indoors, but Mayor Fitzpatrick had insisted that what they would see here today would astound them. Misters Twain and Tesla would not disappoint.

They were listening to a man named Nikola Tesla, who had taken the platform with Mark Twain, expound his theories. Most of them were here to see Twain, and ware barely following Tesla’s highly technical speech or the exact purpose of the gathering. It was beginning to rain, and their patience was beginning to stretch.

A more scientifically grounded writer from Iowa asked: “Mister Tesla Are you telling us that you built a time machine... out of a Steam Boat?”

At this, some of the crowd began to pay a little more attention. A crack of dramatically timed thunder interrupted Tesla just as his mouth was open. Standing behind him, Twain beamed, acknowledging the effect.

Tesla responded “Absolutely sirs! for our purposes it is important to have a distinct body, not attached to the earth, large enough to carry all of our equipment, and located in an area unlikely to have been inhabited in the past or future. It is also convenient that the size of the paddle wheels on this particular steamer fit exactly our requirements for the flux capacitors.”

The sky flashed silently, and a moment afterwards, another crack of thunder.

Twain took up the presentation “Yes, mister Mr C. M. Allen is correct, and the way we see it, if you're going to build a time machine into a ship, why not do it with some style: the Alice Eldridge provides the most comfort available anywhere on the Mississippi. Please everyone, ensure that your glasses are full before we begin the demonstration”

Mr listened to the buzz of conversation around him and felt the engines start though the hull of the steamer. The lightening was getting closer, and an terrifying bolt lit the sky around them. The audience gasped and gave the impression that they might be considering becoming worried.

Twain was speaking again “Thunder is good, thunder is impressive, but it is lightning that does the work. So the capacitors are beginning to flux, Ladies and Gentlemen you may begin to notice a blue light surrounding us. There is absolutely not cause for-”

And lightening smashed down from the sky, giving definition to a bubble that had formed around the boat. The crowd watched with awe and some panic held in check.

Tesla observed this all with satisfaction and went back to his equipment, which was recording the progress. Twain leaned over to him: “Are we ready?”

“Oh Yes” said Tesla and pulled a lever which was simply labeled “Go!”

The blue light became increasingly opaque, veins of blue lightening tracing its outline. The banks of the Mississippi blurred for a second and then vanished. And a ball of light containing a Steamer, seventy men and women, three hundred and seven fish and a huge quantity of water dropped out of the world.

“Nikola, without implying any degree of mistrust of lack of confidence in the man, I now worry that this may have been somewhat ambitious and I have to say that I do hope the astronomer Severnius’s calculations were correct.” said Twain as the steamer bobbed around in its unstable bubble, buffeted on all sides by the winds of time.

People were flung across the deck, some came very close to falling overboard, to what fate they preferred not to contemplate. Those who had managed to find something stable to hold on to were beginning to express outrage at their shabby treatment.

Nicola had signaled for the engines to be stopped and the steamer began to stablise. The bubble rapidly became thinner and a dark, rocky landscape began to form around them.

“What have you done Twain?” shouted Mayor Fitzpatrick.

But neither Tesla nor Twain were listening, they were looking at the spectacular night time landscape surrounding them. The Alice Eldridge had splashed down on a canal, a chasm cut into the deep red rock, a straight line to both horizons.

“Ladies, Gentlemen” shouted Twain over the chaotic demands of seventy variously distressed souls “Welcome to the country of Paleveria!”

The last sparks of the time bubble were dissipating into the air. The Mississippi water was already beginning to blend with that of the Martian canal, and three hundred and seven fish began a surprisingly successful new life on Mars.

Apocryphal Picasso Stories

2010-05-13T15:11:00.000-07:00

A Writer's Extreme Creativity Challenge: Write a story a day, in May. That's it: http://storyaday.org/.

#13 : Apocryphal Picasso Stories

The sun is going down over the garden. We drank beer, and I listened to a story about Picasso. Jack spoke first...

“Knock Knock Knock.

Picasso awoke in his drawstring pants, pushed aside a stack of canvasses and made his way through the house that was his studio at the moment. That he would shortly sell, sketches and all, making enough money to purchase a larger house and once more begin to fill it with drawings, sculptures and canvasses. The next house may have to have a kiln.

Knock Knock.

‘Picasso!’ shouted a voice from outside.

Picasso made his way through the area where yesterday he had been painting with light, a pile of photographic film waiting to be developed. He stood on a broken flash bulb and swore.

‘We need your designs today Picasso’ shouted the voice.

Knock Knock Knock.

Picasso picked up one of the flashbulbs that was not spent, put it in his pocket and answered the door. The two men who stood there wore loose fitting suits and hats, despite the sun. They looked Picasso up and down, naked above the waist, his pot belly hanging over his drawstring trousers. Unimpressed.

‘We’ve been sent for the Perfume Bottle design Picasso’ said one of the men ‘Our reputation is on the line if you don’t deliver. You are meant to be a genius’

And Picasso slipped his hand into his pocket and took out the flashbulb. He said ‘Here is your design, you needn’t have worried, it has been finished for a long time’ and gave it to the men from the perfume company. It was art because Picasso said it was art. That was how he paid so many of his bills.”

Jay was unconvinced, he said “Are you sure this story was Pablo Picasso? Isn’t it Paloma Picasso who did perfume?”

“That’s the way I heard the story” said Jack “They accepted the flash bulb since their marketing people realized that what they had bought that day was not just a design, but a genuine ready-made artwork and most importantly, a Picasso Story to talk about with the press”.

Jay shrugged.

Dan said “I have a better Picasso Story”

Jack shrugged, and Dan began...

“One day, realising that Picasso was in town, a wealthy collector of his paintings invited him to dinner. All of Picasso’s collectors were wealthy by this time, except for those who owned restaurants and bars, who were occasionally paid in sketches.
Picasso showed up, along with many other notable guests from the town who the Collector wished to impress. They ate and drank well, and the Collector arranged a tour of the large rooms in which he housed his collection.

As the group toured the rooms, the Collector introduced this painting and that painting, and described the circumstances under which he had came by it. Picasso inspected the paintings - ‘pleased with this one’ - ‘ah, this one, not so much’ - ‘but this one, yes this one I remember well, you are lucky to have this one’ at which the Collector was very ecstatic with pride.

On entering the third room, Picasso declared them all to be fakes.

The Collector was crestfallen. Some of the guests were secretly pleased, and some of those kept that secret better than others, there was even an occasional snort: pride comes before a fall.

The Collector protested, but Picasso stood firm.

‘They are very good forgeries, but they are forgeries nonetheless, I am sorry’ said Picasso.

‘But Pablo!’ pleased the Collector ‘You sold this one to me yourself - I saw you finish and sign it. Has some master criminal entered during the night and swapped my entire room for fakes? And This is your signature, no?’

‘Ah yes, I remember. But I am not a saint’ said Picasso ‘having been short of cash from time to time, even I will occasionally fake a Picasso.’”

Ghost

2010-05-13T12:23:00.000-07:00

A Writer's Extreme Creativity Challenge: Write a story a day, in May. That's it: http://storyaday.org/. Thanks to Ian Mayor for the words 'erotic discount warehouse'. Oh dear. Better get on with it then...

#12 : Ghost

Michelle James had been sent here by the very pierced boy behind the counter in Sven’s Bazaar. He had been quite helpful once she had got his attention.

She had been sure (well, her husband had been sure - he had done all of the shopping, before she had... he had been... he had died) that if anywhere could meet their needs it would have been Sven’s.

The boy admitted sympathetically, that no, they couldn't help: Sven’s was more or less mainstream these days. Being close to the centre of town, under a Tory government, a store selling a (relatively speaking) vanilla selection of toys, whips, plugs and restraints had no further need to stock the obscure.

The boy had been certain that the place she needed, on an industrial estate on the edge of town, was the ‘Erotic Discount Warehouse’, or as it was more prominently labelled ‘Unit 23, Clarkson Industrial Estate. Despite it’s nondescript exterior and title, Unit 23, he was assured, contained the widest stock of what might be described as Esoteric Erotica, and was the wholesaler and distribution point for the entire North England.  

Michelle parked her car and pushed open the discretely labeled door. The warehouse was quite large on the inside, five aisles of coloured boxes, stacked on shelves up to the ceiling. The place wasn’t as empty as she’d expected, a number of individuals and couples were milling about, making notes of the code names with the pencils and note paper provided by the entrance. Salespeople were stacking shelves and engaging in enthusiastic conversation with anyone they could corner.

Michelle picked up a catalogue looked vaguely and somewhat uncomprendingly at the various products on offer. Some of which she recognised.  

“Can I help at all Miss?” asked an amiable assistant, who had ambled up on Michelle’s blindside.

  “I uh....” said Michelle “Do you have any, ah... any... toys for ghosts?”  

The assistant looked at Michelle and nodded sagely.  

“You see, it's quite delicate. My husband... died last year, and, well, we can’t... but... he thought...” said Michelle  

“Can you see your husband Miss?” asked the assistant.

  “You don’t believe me?” said Michelle.  

“I do Miss! the customer is always right, after all, and you can rely on our discretion in this and all matters. I am merely trying to ascertain the approximate density and quantity of ectoplasm which may be required by the gentleman in question sir. A product that failed to make contact and passed straight through would be simply no use whatsoever. As you are already no doubt painlessly aware”

  “I... ok” said Michelle “the ropes didn’t work”  

“I see. Well, our ropes and straps and handcuffs have been specially treated. Your requirements are considerably more common that you may imagine. Would the undead gentleman in question be capable of visiting our establishment sir? For some quick, and quite painless tests?”  

“No, he can’t go..”  

“Beyond the confines of the family home, of course.” said the assistant.

  “No, I’m afraid, I, we, we didn’t... well, he... we... strayed” said Michelle

  “Say no more miss, say no more - this explains the haunting of course” said the assistant “Well, our lives are nothing if not interesting, and a shared love of pottery often fails to cut the mustard"

"If, miss, If I have deduced the details of this somewhat delicate matter correctly, and I believe I have, we have a wide range of products on offer which will, I am sure, meet his, and indeed your, corrective requirements.”

Proving a Negative

2010-05-12T09:28:00.000-07:00

A Writer's Extreme Creativity Challenge: Write a story a day, in May. That's it: http://storyaday.org/. Thanks to Britt for the keyword 'Moonbase'. I'm playing catch up now, so this is more the seeds of an idea based on a dream I wrote up years ago.

#11 : Proving a Negative

Walter sat up in his chair and took a sip of his coffee. He looked out across the lunar landscape.

Yup. Nothing. Lunar dust. A large crater about a mile to the east. Same as yesterday, same as tomorrow.

“Esme will live” he thought.

Only yesterday there hadn’t been nothing had there? Yesterday, he’d seen something, and no matter how much he tried to remove it from his mind, to forget what he’d witnessed, he hadn’t seen nothing. He hadn’t reported it.

The daily report he’d filed had said ‘nothing – as usual’ and maybe when the incident is investigated in months, years to come, that report would be stand out as being unusually verbose. Maybe someone would pick up on that and check the network traffic that day.

They’d find an encrypted message, and maybe someone a bit sharp will figure out what it said. An encrypted message signed Frank. A name he’d not heard from in over a year now.

Frank had been the name used by a man (as far as we know, it was a man) stalking Walter’s familty before he finally had been approved for the Moonbase job. Frank had demonstrated how easily he could break into their house, the school where his wife Esme worked and their son studied. Frank had never been seen, let alone caught. He left notes. Ludicrous demands with increasingly serious outcomes.

“Your telephone will ring at midnight. Ignore it for thirteen rings and then answer or your car will not start in the morning. Frank.”

“Mathew must fail today’s Maths test or your taxes will be audited. Frank.”

“A home baked blueberry pie must be left by the kitchen window or your cat will die. Frank.”

The threats were always carried out should the demands fail to be met. The demands told you a number of things about Frank. He had very little by way of morality, and he could make things happen, get anywhere, do anything. Usually bad things. They, and the police, were at a loss. Neither Walter or his family had any enemies to speak of.

Once Walter was approved for work on the Moonbase, Frank’s visits came to an end. Untill yesterday, when an encrypted message had came through to Walter’s account. Encrypted with Walter’s own password. It said:

“You will not see anything outside tomorrow. You will be paid £8,000,000. Esme will live. Frank.”

Walter thought about Doctor Watson. Doctor Watson had been a good cat, as cats go. Hadn't deserved that. Had everything been building up to this? Esme had been taken into hospital last week. She’d been having headaches. Walter wanted to get the next flight back, but that wasn’t scheduled for another twelve days.

Walter sat up in his chair and took a sip of his coffee. He looked out across the lunar landscape.

Yup. Nothing. Lunar dust. A large crater about a mile to the east. Same as yesterday, same as tomorrow.

How could he have possibly seen anything out there? Not a human anyway, not without a suit. Human arms aren't that long. He'd dreamed about those arms. Stretching along the moonbase corridors, hands spidering across the walls. Separated from their torso, blindly seeking him out.

Esme will live, he thought, if I saw nothing.

Just Another Job

2010-05-10T05:31:00.000-07:00

A Writer's Extreme Creativity Challenge: Write a story a day, in May. That's it: http://storyaday.org/. Thanks to Martin Newman for the seed words 'Fog. Mechanised. Lurk. Apples. Platinum. Atlantis. Assassin. Teeth. Silk. Liver. Jobsworth. Deep Sea Abyss. Solitaire. Poker'

#10 : Just Another Job

The Mi-go are as good as their word. Their fungal webs ease my pod out of Aetherspace and into regular space/time at the edge of the Sol system just beyond Pluto.

I watch through the cabin windows as the three ten limbed space insects spin a cocoon of Yoggothian silk around my craft.

I don't attempt to communicate with them, they're here to take me to Venus. The advantages of using the Mi-go taxi service are that they don't ask questions and their silk renders us largely undetectable. I'm here to do a job and chit chat wouldn't be wise. They may reconsider their fare if they knew what I was carrying.

I'm an assassin. I kill people and things for a living, but I specialise in things. I'm in this solar system to kill a God, or something as near to a god as to make it almost indistinguishable to most of the creatures it shares a planet with: A currently dormant Great Old One entombed in a deep abyss within the planet Earth, a planet inhabited by a single type one civilisation beneath the surface and four others ranging from point six to point eight.

In theory, the target is stationary, which should make lining up a shot fairly easy. In practice, my clients would like to take control of a functioning Class M planet, so if I want paying, I need to make this a clean kill without too much collateral damage. The central nervous system of a Great Old One may make this a difficult task.

The Mi-go signal in their clicking crustacean voices that we have arrived on Venus. The cabin depressurises and I climb out of the cramped pod, brushing aside the silk and fog of their insulating web that has kept my pod protected for the short journey. I acknowledge completion of the journey in the language which will allow them to be paid and they disappear into the aether on membranous appendages.

Venus is exactly as I remember it. Venus, where plants have teeth. A misty, toxic jungle inhabited by flora and fauna that will more or less eat anything given the time and inclination. The web should keep me undetected by the planet long enough to do the hit and get out.

Unpacking the sniper rifle, and setting up its support structure and associated computers takes three hours. The hard part is ensuring that the ammunition doesn't attract attention. Handle with care.

Once set up, the job is more or less done. Everything is planned and considered, the computers do the work: locate the target within its deep sea tomb, adjust for intervening materials, solid, liquid and atmospheric, relative planetary orbits, solar wind, check for relevant space debris and pull the trigger..

Pop... Pop... Pop...

Brain... Heart... Liver...

It'll take several hours for the bullets to cross the intervening space and hit the target, and another for their payload to take effect. I'm extremely relieved to have them out of my care. If any Elder Things had found me with such ordnance, things would have became very, very bad for me. And probably for everyone I've ever communicated with.

Each bullet contained a platinum chamber housing a bio-engineered Micro Shoggoth and enough supporting protoplasm to initialise very rapid reproduction and growth on contact with the target. Handle with care: you bet.

So, that's that. Over fifty thousand years of "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn" and such like done and dusted: all lickety split, nice and smooth. The cat is now very much amongst the pigeons as far as the local civilisations geopolitics are concerned. Not my problem.

My problem is that I need to get the hell out of here. The Mi-Go are doubtless already on route with an assassination job of their own (or answer awkward questions about their role in this affair). The Elder things will notice as soon as the Shoggoth awake. I’m also fairly sure that the Earth and Venus talk.

Fortunately for me, the hard part was getting the artillery into the solar system and someone to pull the trigger. All I’ve got to actually leave with is my mind and no-way of tracing this incident back. I activate the self destruct on the pod (gravity collapse in ten, nine...).

I pull the needle holding mind and body together out out of the back of my neck, just as a howling noise in the upper atmosphere announces that they're here and the Elder things are early. I hope the spell keeping me in this body fails before they get hold of it, or at the very least the gravity bomb detonates.

I'm in luck. I'm out of here. Job done. Bye.

Polarities

2010-05-09T14:33:00.000-07:00

A Writer's Extreme Creativity Challenge: Write a story a day, in May. That's it: http://storyaday.org/. Thanks to Richmond Clements for the seed word 'twins''

#9 : Polarities

It was a beautiful evening. Submagi Floren watched the twin suns begin to disappear behind the woods further up the valley and finished her beer. It was time. The waiter took her empty plate and glass. Floren tipped well, and got her coat, sketchbook and pens together. The Blue Sun was the first to descend at this time of year, leaving the sky a deep red.

The evening would remain warm for a while yet. Submagi Floren set off through the streets of the old town. It took half an hour to reach the south gate and to get on the path leading through the Lux-Garden which occupied the valley between the Towers of the two Priesthoods.

Floren knew the paths like the back of her hand, and followed a dark overgrown path leading beneath the Witch Bridge, down deep into the valley, into the shadows and undergrowth. Eventually the stone part of the path ended and he continued through the mud to the point where the sacred streams crossed.

She arrived at a building calved out of the rock of the valley, and knocked on the small wooden door. A bald man, lumpy, ancient and uncivilised looking, opened the door and gestured for Floren to enter. He wore an old shirt, open down to his pot belly, with drawstring pants and sandles. All of his clothes were covered in paint.

“I have arrived Magi” announced Floren, uncertain of what to say, or what rituals and secrets awaited.

The room inside was quite large, two of the walls formed from bare rock, the others brick and wood. Pots of paint, brushes and old canvasses were piled up against the walls. The canvases suggested bodies, animals and broken vases. Floren looked at them, piecing the imagery together. The Magi pointed at one of the two wooden chairs.

“Sit, Submagi Floren, you’ve come for the secrets of our order I take it?”

Floren nodded.

“Ok. Do you want some tea? I’ve just made some”

“Yes Magi” said Floren.

The Magi poured some strong looking tea from a simple looking tea pot and put it on the table in front of Floren.

“Help yourself to milk” he said, gesturing to a small jug of milk.

Floren looked at the tea, and at the Magi carefully, attempting to deduce the correct response.

“It’s just tea” said the Magi knowingly “It’s not mystical tea, it’s just tea. It’s been brewing a while and I have never allowed the teapot cleaned so you might want a bit of sugar too”.

Floren added both milk and sugar. She took a sip of the tea. The Magi poured himself some and sat on the chair opposite.

“Right, secrets of the order. It’s bloody simple. We’re the Priests of the Moon, we make trouble. That’s it” said the Magi.

Floren listened expectantly.

“Oh, OK, if I must.” said the Magi “As you know, our Two Suns are in orbit around each other and this beautifully futile speck of dust is in orbit around both. Both Priesthoods are preparing for the day when the Sun’s separate, and our planet goes with one or the other

“The Priests of the Red Sun and the Priests of the Blue Sun worship their respective Suns from their high towers primarily through the act of perpetual disagreement

“If the Priests of the Red Sun say Shit the Blue Priests will say Piss. And on it goes, with neither rhyme nor reason. This you know of course. Everyone knows it, and yet people feel compelled to pick sides, are told that they must, and assume that one is right and the other wrong, and that in time soon to come the truth will be revealed, our speck of dust planet will go with one and the followers of the other will be flung into the vacuum of space

“In the lower orders of the Two Priesthoods, this remains the teaching, and they are encouraged in the various esoteric arguments supporting their faiths. The Blue sun is older and wiser, the Red younger and brighter. Almost everything a man can think has been assigned a value by one or the other”

Floren took a sip of her tea. She doubted that there was enough sugar remaining in the pot to make this tea approach pleasant. She made another polite attempt to drink. The Magi took a perverse delight at his discomfort.

“Arse holes the lot of them” said the Magi “The Higher Orders of both have secretly accepted another truth, handed to them by our great cities Scientists: The Suns are not about to fly apart, but are in fact, over millennia, moving closer together.

“So they believe that their constant bickering, argument and disagreement is essential to our continued existence, delaying the collision of the two stars using the power of their infinite hot air.

“There’s not an ounce of imagination between them and their idiot binary way of thinking, those joining the Priesthoods just aren’t the types to think outside the box. The higher orders at least realize this... and this, Submagi Floren, is why our order was founded”

Floren looked up from her tea. The Magi sneered at her.

“The Priesthood of the moon was founded to give the Two Priesthoods something to disagree about. We cause trouble. We howl at the moon, we bring dissonance. We don’t even have to try that hard, they’ll find offense in almost anything. Submagi Floren, do you paint? play music? write?”.

“I write and draw Magi” said Floren quietly, fishing in her bag for his sketchbook.

“You write and you draw? Words and Pictures?” said the Magi “The writers and painters hate each other you know?”

“They’re in sequence Magi, see...?” said Floren and showed some of her pages to the Magi. The Magi took them and looked from picture to picture, a story unfolding.

“An artificial planet? why do they all have balloons in their mouths?” asked the Magi.

“That’s what they’re saying sir. It’s dialogue. Like in a play.” said Floren.

The Magi smiled. Floren had never seen him do that. Sneer, yes. Smile?

“A heresy on every page! These people are eating each other” said the Magi “I am fucking delighted!”

“They’re zombies, Magi” said Floren.

The Magi looked genuinely happy.

“I don’t know what that means, but ... well I would normally suggest that you start by painting a prostitutes arse blue and call it art, but this... Words, Pictures and Science and Time all together on a piece of torn off note paper... heh... heh...” the Magi coughed.

“Magi Floren. Go to it. This is going to piss everyone off.”

Rock Night

2010-05-09T08:38:00.000-07:00

A Writer's Extreme Creativity Challenge: Write a story a day, in May. That's it: http://storyaday.org/. Thanks to David Wynne for the words 'hairdryer candle jellybeans pearl jam poster'

#8 : Rock Night

Son, she said, have I got a little story for you.

I light the candle.

Scientists have theorised that it may be possible to actually increase my base level of Rock beyond current levels, but that this will require a further thirteen dimensions, seven imaginary particles and an entirely new kind of matter based on the chords of Eddie Vedder.

While we wait for the Large Hadron Collider to establish whether this is possible, I prepare to head down to Trillians. While taking up to an hour to dry and straighten waist length hair, I sacrifice five jellybeans to the Pearl Jam Poster, melting them in candlewax. I Rock.

Interpreting the trails of wax and jelly as I bolt myself in to thigh length platform boots, the signs are... something is wrong. Has the Pearl Jam Poster forsaken me? I look close, analysing and evaluating every rivulet of wax, every particle of burned sugar.

Now I can't see, I just stare...

I double check. It appears that this evening in town, I shall indeed Rock, but there is one coming who shall Rock yet harder than myself. I look angrily at the poster. Pearl Jam have been wrong before? Haven’t they?

And if so... if so...who answers...who answers...

No. The poster, the candle, the jellybeans, they have never yet been wrong. So the question remains: what to do? pledge allegiance to this new Messiah of Rock? My time is over, perhaps. I angrily flick a jellybean at the poster and immediately regret it. I must respect the Pearl Jam Poster.

I'm still alive.

Never. I pull on my leather coat. Never. I shall go down with the maximum power and dignity of Rock. There shall be a Rock off the likes of which we have never seen, it shall be spoken of in hushed awe for years to come. I must time my arrival on the dance floor with care. I’m still alive. These boots are made for Rocking.

And that’s just what they’ll do. I am ready. The bus is coming.

Oh, I'm still alive.

The Architect

2010-05-07T11:37:00.000-07:00

A Writer's Extreme Creativity Challenge: Write a story a day, in May. That's it: http://storyaday.org/. Thanks to Ian Mayor for the words 'architect,light,obsession'

#7 : The Architect

The Tower was destroyed and the people scattered. In less than a generation the One Language had fallen out of use, those who had made their living as speakers and translators had been forbidden from its use, the people believing it cursed.

Without the Tower, they had nothing to unite them.

While many of the Builders and Slaves had been killed where they stood, the King and the Architect had survived, and lived alone in the ruins of the Tower. It would be the last place HE would think to look, and if they had learned one thing, it was that not only did HE exist, but HE jealously guarded the skies.

The two of them became increasingly insane. Their only contact with the outside world was to attack the children who occasionally crept into the ruins from those few families who still lived in what remained of the Old City.

The Architect had been blinded, he had been closest to the light and the wind when HE had struck. The Architect believed that in the split second before he lost his sight, he had seen heaven, and had seen a way to get there. The structure of Light itself was the clue.

Over the years, The Architect lost his memory of the nature of Light, and became obsessed by the notion that it could be a material, which, distilled into solid form, might form the building blocks of a new tower, which HE would not destroy.

Being made of the same material as Heaven, the angels would not identify an intruder explained the Architect to the King.

He further theorised that since light was their material, the Tower could be expanded rapidly and exponentially by the use of cunningly placed mirrors.

This construction would not be rejected by heaven, no Angels, no Un-Bodies would be raised, and using this tower, they would create a needle, stretching not just to the boundaries of heaven, but into the palaces and gardens at the very centre of the city of heaven where they would hide in his many corridors and hallways, multiply and grow, free from the corrupting influences of Earth bound materials.

Once heaven was infiltrated, the Angels could be studied from up close, their sciences and knowledge put to the use of Mankind.

The King, for he too had lost his mind, set out with the Architect to find a Scientist able make Light Solid. Neither had any illusions that they would see this project completed, but they would set events in motion that would free Mankind and remake Heaven in their own image.

Restructuring

2010-05-06T14:22:00.000-07:00

A Writer's Extreme Creativity Challenge: Write a story a day, in May. That's it: http://storyaday.org/.

#6 : Restructuring

“Look” said Jack “Vampires are boring”

Alan nodded, and stared glumly into the remains of his pint.

“That’s the bottom line and you know it. You’ve been coasting. Pint?” said Jack.

“Ay” said Alan. Alan looked around the pub. Everyone in here was ‘Staff’ or friends of at this time of the evening. It was both repetitive and comforting. Jack had been right though.

The Vampires were boring these days, gone were the good old days, the truly ancient super suave international vampires were gone, either hunted back to their ancestral castles or they’d accepted a deal. The really nasty hellfire and brimstone vampires, usually a few hundred years old, who’d never really grasped style and lurked in the inner cities murdering prostitutes and kids... Well, the blond kid had kicked hell out of most of those before she’d moved on to better things. He wished her well.

His team had done good work, but Alan was still here, hunting what was left. Pathetic petulant, quivering lip, toothless lifestyle vampires, who did nothing but moan on about it, like being a vampire was some kind of addiction. The hardest thing to deal with about these vampires was explaining the pile of dust to the teenage girls they inevitably attracted.

Pathetic, really. Job Done. Time to move on. Possibly Jack was right, and Jack had brought another pint of Beer.

“Thanks” said Alan “I’ve been thinking about the restructuring”.

“And?” said Jack.

“And I dunno, merging the Folklaw Suppression team with the Superhero Control lot... it’s bound to get messy”.

“Daylight working hours most of the time Alan, and you should see the costumes some of the women wear. There’s a super speed girl with ice cream themed powers, for fecks sake”

“I know, I know”

“And lets face it, you could do with learning some new skills, you aren’t going anywhere in vampires. When was the last really difficult one that really made a difference?”

“1997 - the Old People’s Home off the Luxlan” said Alan “He was a nasty bugger. Maybe you’re right”.

“I know I’m right Alan, I know you think Superhero division are all black and white in their thinking, and you’re right, they are. But these days, we’ve got some very morally complex wierdo’s out there these days. Super Speed, Laser Vision, some of these guys have got powers you would never think of in a million years. Girls who can see sideways in time. Guys who can swap people’s brains just by looking at them. The team aren’t used to handling weird. They could use a guy who thinks like you”

“Yeah. Yeah, can we talk about something else? I’ll think about it”.

And Alan and Jack finished their drinks and stumbled off their separate ways.

In a basement deep beneath the City Swimming Pool, a long curved corridor slopes downwards, spiraling tighter towards a centre. The pale light flickers on in the circular room at the centre, a robotic voice announces ‘Authorisation Accepted Alan Arnold, Division V’

Alan staggered into the circular room at the lowest point, steps over the moat of constantly flowing holy water, and kicks at the circle of salt on the floor, creating a gap.

“I knew you’d come” - the voice is old, powerful.

Alan looks up at the Vampire. An ancient, impossibly thin human shape, nailed to a silver crucifix. Alan nods.

“You are in no state to make a deal with me Alan. Come back when you have thought about this properly” said the Vampire.

“I switched off all the defenses that matter to you thirteen minutes ago. Why are you still here?” asked Alan “Why am I still alive?”.

“Professional courtesy, Alan. Oh that and ‘I want never gets’”. The Vampire mocked him.

“You’re playing games with me” said Alan.

But there was no mouth to answer - a swarm of dust and flies, flooded into the ducts and was gone. Alan looked around and checked himself. His blood had been cleared of alcohol, and the Vampire had left a post it note on his subconscious. Enough to convince his superiors that it hadn’t been deliberate.

Yes, that is what he’d wanted. It will be just like the old days. Playing games.

The Shining Wire

2010-05-05T15:33:00.000-07:00

A Writer's Extreme Creativity Challenge: Write a story a day, in May. That's it: http://storyaday.org/.

#5 : The Shining Wire

The Council of Bunnies came gradually and suspiciously to order. Democracy was a new word. Too many syllables for a start. Vote was easier. They kind of got that. Hop over to the new leader and raise a paw. Done.

“Fellow Bunnies” began President Fennel “It has became clear to me that in order for us to survive, we must find a way out of the crisis that is upon us. Sage Thyme has a proposal to put to you all. If you agree with it, he will lead us and I also will follow. Sage Thyme, please speak”.

A long thin, albino bunny hopped into the centre of the circle of the Council of Bunnies.

“Thank you President Fennel. Bunnies, it has never been my intention to lead, only to serve, to keep my fellow Bunnies safe from all darkness and to ensure a ready supply of both Leeks and Carrots”.

“Hear Hear” proclaimed the Council of Bunnies.

Sage Thyme continued “But it has come to pass that the Glass House and the lands which surround it are now protected by The Man’s Dogs. Rat patrols have been on the increase and a Fox has been seen on the far side of the stream. Scout leader Rosemary tells me that she believes that the Fox knows we’re here but the Dogs will hunt it as they hunt us”.

The Council of Bunnies were silent.

“Radical Change is required” said Thyme “I have consulted with the Shaman of the Tribe of Roaches and we believe that the Carrots, Leeks and Lettuce which were found by the stream last week are an offering from The Man.”

Second Scout Laurel raised a paw. Thyme turned on her “Yes, what is it Scout?”

“They weren’t good Sage Thyme sir” she said.

“They may not have been new or fresh, but they were... considerably... better than... nothing” replied Thyme with an air of menace... “May I... please continue?”

“Yes sir”

“Good. The Tribe and I believe that this was an offering which will have to be... paid for, and the more we pay, the more and better the Carrots will be, and the better the Carrots will be, the more of us there will be. By the offering was a shining wire” said Thyme.

The Council of Bunnies began to chatter. President Fennel was shaking his head. Towards the back of the group General Mace stirred.

“We spotted it straight away. It was too obvious to have been intended as a trap. It was a message from The Man. One Rabbit. One pile of Carrots, Leeks and Vegetables. Enough to feed the whole warren.” said Thyme.

General Mace, a huge dark bunny hopped forward “Enough, Sage, Enough. I have heard Enough. We will not willingly sacrifice ourselves to The Man”.

“This is democracy General Mace, we must hear him out” said President Fennel.

“By my entire hindgut fermentation” shouted General Mace “I will not have it! Thyme!” said Mace.

“Yes?” said Thyme.

“Who would you suggest for the first sacrifice?” said Mace “Leading by example?”

“Hah” said Sage Thyme “No, that is the old way. We are looking to the future. A future without violence... witho-” Sage Thyme was cut off by Mace.

“President Fennel, we are thin, we are weak. This must change. I need more Bunnies, but we do not make deals with The Man. If we end up on his table, it is not voluntarily. If we eat his carrots, we eat his BEST carrots. While we lack brawn, we will use brains. First Scout Laurel has been outlining to me a previously unknown route into the Glass House”.

Laurel looked surprised “I...? I have. Yes SIR”.

“And you will be rewarded for it First Scout Laurel, with the first pick of the takings” said General Mace.

Laurel held herself high, proud and confused at her sudden promotion.

“I protest, I must finish” said Thyme.

“You are lucky you can still speak” said Mace “I have killed Bunnies for suggesting less. But as it is President Fennel’s whim that we are now a democracy, you shall have, for a short time, freedom of speech, and I shall stand against you. My first policy is to ram that shining wire so far-”

President Fennel interrupted, one of few and his last decisive act as President, “General Mace, Sage Thyme, Council of Bunnies. I believe that we have heard the candidates policies. I believe that it may be time for you all to cast your vote.”

And so they did.

All Lickety-Split

2010-05-04T12:14:00.000-07:00

A Writer's Extreme Creativity Challenge: Write a story a day, in May. That's it: http://storyaday.org/.

#4 : All Lickety Split

Summer evening sun streams in low through the shutters. She skims the op-art tiled floor of the 50’s Themed Icecream and Milkshake Diner collecting oversized empty glasses. A six foot tall blur of blonde, red, white and pink on oversized roller-skates. If you blinked, you’d have missed it: red plastic surfaces wiped clean, dishwasher full, shutters beginning to close.

Waitress clothes gone, loose fitting jacket and trousers on, Valerie is sat at the chrome counter, a lit cigarette already in hand. Brunette. Only one thing about her hasn’t changed while you were blinking, as one of the two suits who have just stepped out from the store room entrance is already pointing out...

“So... where do you find a girl who cannot remove her magic hypersonic rollerskates?”

But Valerie has already vanished in a blur of speed. This is normal, this is expected. The men stride into the middle of the Diner.

“A Rollerskate Diner, would surely be the only place such a person could maintain anything like a secret identity.” says the second man in exactly the same deadpan, who is busy typing impolitely into his iPhone.

“Valerie, or should we say ‘LicketySplit!’, in the flesh. We know you’re still here. You haven’t set off any of the time vortex traps so by now you should know that you can’t escape...”

“Please slow down so we can talk... oh.” he says as his eye falls on a brunette wig and a neatly folded pile of clothes on the seat behind the counter..

Three hundred and seventy miles away, Valerie skids to a halt.

Who the hell did they think they were, trying to trap HER? She could have incapacitated them with ice-cream headache fired at the speed of sound with one of fifteen regular flavours and four guest varieties, but the traps came online a nanosecond after she left, so she’d made the right choice.

And her loose fitting clothes have gone, Tightly cropped red hair, frictionless white jumpsuit, and matching the skates, streamlined red knee and elbow pads, helmet and goggles, whose high speed net connection is already scanning the conspiracy chat rooms for the Brotherhood logo.

Not keeping up? Valerie is looking at the wallet that she took from the first man: “Brotherhood of the Flame”. Apparently even satanic conspiracies carry identity cards these days. She looked again - a crossed metal fork and spatula on a diagonally lined circle logo.

They were either trying to keep LicketySplit! out of the picture or coerce her into doing a job for them. That’s the usual deal. She’d seen it all before. Barbecue themed super villains. Ridiculous. Maybe they were planning to invite her to a garden party.

The internet spits out some theories, as the internet will and writes up its conclusion on the goggles display. Aha, the third option. A second later, she’s on the streets of London.

Red boots flaming up the surface of the Millenium Dome. She’s hurled across the Thames. Impact in 0.3 seconds her knee pads pop into balloon of ultra dense toffee milkshake and she’s above over two hundred shops, boutiques, bars and restaurants glued to the pyramid of Canary Wharf. A blast of ice cold Slusho! from her helmet and the glass smashes, she drops into the headquarters of the Brotherhood of the Flame.

She hits the floor of a huge elegant room, belying the buildings glass and steel exterior. A woman, gothic styled suit, black and red, sits at an antique table set for two. She stands, tall on impossible heels and smiles at Valerie without a hint of either surprise or malice.

“Crowley, You’re meant to be...” says Valerie catching up with herself “What do you want?”

“Hello Valerie” says Crowley “You got here faster than expected. Did you take a cab?”

Crowley grins. Slightly sinister.

“This is ridiculous”

Crowley nods “Isn’t it? would you care to try the wine?”

“White or Red?”

King Rat

2010-05-03T08:49:00.000-07:00

A Writer's Extreme Creativity Challenge: Write a story a day, in May. That's it: http://storyaday.org/.

#3 : King Rat

Mr Roberts’ cursory survey of the attic had revealed nothing living. No rats this time, though nothing in the traps either, so he couldn’t be certain. They were definitely still around, but not dying like they used to. He closed the door and slumped off back downstairs.

Harvey moved in the darkness, but darkness which, to his nose, paws and whiskers, contained many things of interest. Fur, whiskers, piss and scratches. All of them rat. And all of those Rats that remained had learned that the smell of peanut butter leads directly to a smashed skull. The remains of Philippa in the wall behind them drove this point home.

Of the twelve remaining members of The Family, only seven remained as individuals. Five had became entangled, and over time had became the King Rat. Tails and fur and bones fused and knotted together. Five rats speaking with one voice, demanding to be fed.

And ‘it’ was fed. Unable to move fast or far, The King Rat could do two things that meant it should be obeyed. Firstly, it could still fight. An attempt to kill it by the other seven had resulted in severe injuries. But no death. Because secondly, it could also think, plan, reason. It had left Harvey with only one eye.

Slowly, patiently, it explained to the seven the flow of cause and effect by which peanut butter, cheese and other surprisingly available food leads directly to death. Death means no more mastication at all. No more fucking, no more pups. All of these are necessities if King Rat was to be sustained. Harvey had caught on fast. The other six had taken some time to appreciate the need for added complexity in their lives. The King Rat was patient.

And now the King Rat spoke in its five discordant hypnotic voices, three female, two male.

“Slave Rats. You are still Seven? Better than Six, but not Eight. You must become Eight, Nine, More! Two times Nine, Nine times Nine”

Harvey tried to comprehend more than two times nine and failed. It sounded like a lot. If the King Rat was One and not Five, Harvey understood that this made him not Rat Six but Rat Two. If the King Rat was not a rat (and he didn’t seem to be anymore.. or... was gone?) then Harvey was Rat One out of ALL the rats in the house. Either way, making seven into Nine times Nine would be his job alone. He was pleased.

“Slave Rats. If we are to defeat the Council of Bunnies and retake the disputed territory that is the outside the house hot glass room with carrots, we must be more... in-numerable. More Rats.”

A less appealing prospect for Harvey. Harvey spoke: “The Council of Bunnies are many, King Rat, and they have an alliance with The Mister Roberts Man”.

The five faces of the King Rat sniffed at Harvey, getting the measure of the runt rat on which they now depended. Harvey flinched at the attention.

“An alliance?”

“I have spoken to the Tribe of Roaches. The man gives them carrots and other things. Old but good. They give him Bunnies”

The rats gasped. Harvey considered some of the other things that the elder of the Tribe of Roaches had told him: More traps, Blue lights, Poison Smoke, Kitties. Harvey kept this to himself until he knew more. Harvey was learning how to learn, and learning a lot of new things. A vague notion that power could come from something other than teeth and claws was starting to form.

“The Council of Bunnies do not make sacrifices or alliances and must be very desperate to have overcame their arrogance. The Man would not negotiate with us and we with him. Their sacrifices will enfeeble both their numbers and joie de vivre” hissed the King Rat .

Harvey struggled with this but got the gist and looked around to see who else was following the words. The female called Mona seemed to understand. Maybe a couple of the others, Arthur, Beyonce maybe?

“Rat Number One, I have orders.” hissed the King Rat.

“Yes” said Arthur and Harvey simultaneously. They looked at each other, confused, suspicious, aggressive. Arthur was bigger than Harvey. The two had never been tested.

The King Rat sniggered... “In-teresting. in-teresting times. Harvey, speak to the Tribe again. Find out what they want in return for in-formation. Suggest to the Tribe that they may find the area under the bath to their liking”.

“Yes King Rat ” said Harvey. He sniffed at Mona, who was inscrutable. He could smell anger and threat and hate from Arthur.

The King Rat dismissed the remaining seven, who skuttled off to their appointed tasks. As Harvey left, he saw the King Rat dragging themself over to where he had been standing, sniffing and pawing the space. The King Rat was weighing him up from his scent. Would he be found wanting?

Harvey was in danger. He had kept secrets. He had made enemies. But he had information and for the first time in his short, dark life, he felt that there might be something else than explore, eat, fuck, fight, run and then, lately, obey... there were options, choices... Suddenly everything was complicated.

The Tribe of Roaches talk to everyone he thought (they even mentioned Other Houses). He’d fought the Council of Bunnies many times, but never talked to one. Maybe even that was possible.

The Plumber

2010-05-02T03:06:00.000-07:00

A Writer's Extreme Creativity Challenge: Write a story a day, in May. That's it: http://storyaday.org/.

#2 : The Plumber

I’m good at what I do, and if I turn up at your door you can guarantee two things.

Firstly, my fee, which is never less than double that of your regular, despised plumber, will need to be paid. Secondly, that unlike those poor men calling themselves plumbers, I will tame the occult network of copper and plastic that lurks beneath your floorboards, behind the wallpaper, in the cupboard under the stairs.

I got into the business of being a plumber nearly a decade ago, when the dot com bubble burst the property development boom was just getting started. The callout fee alone was huge, and the quality of DIY out there meant that once folks admitted defeat they would always need someone to bring order back to the chaos.

A grateful housewife, a cheque with an unexpected number of digits. That’s how I saw this job at first, and for a time that’s just how it was. Little did I realise the souls that have been crushed, the deals which true plumbers have to make to keep mankind safe in its cosy, infinite complacency, making the tea. Doing the washing up.

I experienced the true horror in the youthful, optimistic days of the new millennia. A small town comprehensive school was looking to retire its groundskeeper and all round handy man and replace him with a modern, managed service.

The mans name was Harry. He was slow and methodical, and realised that his time was past, he began the slow process of introducing my team to his building (three of us - me, Jimmy and Tom). In our arrogance, perhaps we imagined that we would have this all fixed up by the winter. No-one would have believed the vast and cool and unsympathetic maze of copper and lead stretching across the caverns and tunnels beneath that town.

Harry’s understanding of the system was scratched into the walls, onto the pipes and boilers using an array of bizarre signs and symbols. As he explained these to us, aided by a sacred grimoire he had constructed over the decades, we came to believe him utterly and irreversibly insane.

Tom was the first to go. After yet another long day tracking the routes of some of the heating through the walls of the school, we were sat in the damp sub basement, beneath stalactites forming from the century old brick ceiling.

“It knows we’re here” said Tom.

“you what?”

“It doesn’t like us. It’s the plastic pipes. It likes copper”.

We looked at Tom, but he just shook his head and got on with his cheese sandwich.

Over the following weeks, Tom became increasingly withdrawn, sometimes we wouldn’t see him for days on end. Then one day Harry came to talk to myself and Jimmy.

“You got to come with me. Your boy. He’s gone too deep this time... too far... if i’d known...”

We followed the mad old bastard down into the tunnels well beyond those areas that we’d mapped or which had anything to do with the school. Harry muttered that we were beneath the Town Hall.

We found Tom in a small chamber which must have been some kind of intersection - crisscrossing pipes of all thicknesses went into all four walls, ceilings and floor, though the destination of those going downwards was beyond my knowledge.

Tom was in the centre of the room, surrounded by a spiraling, esoteric web of bendy plastic pipes which he had grafted onto the bigger metal ones. He didn’t look up when we arrived.

Harry whispered “He’s trying to control the water”

“It’s a labyrinth” said Jimmy, looking at the design of the plastic pipe sculpture, formed of repeating concentric circles and interconnecting knots.

“You can’t do that - we never control, we guide and induce, bribe and persuade, but we can’t control it” whispered Harry, with a stressed edge in his voice.

I walked over to Tom and put my hand on his shoulder.

“Tom, are you ok?”

But Tom never had chance to answer. Harry had taken his wrench and begun attacking the points at which Tom’s construction was attached to the older system, tearing into it. I heard Jimmy shout as the room in an instant filled with steam and spray, boiling and freezing water. Harry ran off into the tunnels, pursuing some unseen pattern, turning bolts and taps, freeing the raging water from the system at strategic points.

Of what follows I remember little. Our long, painful, delirious struggle back to the surface, dragging, cajoling and bullying Tom through tunnels flooded and collapsing with hot water and steam. It seemed as though we must have been down there for days.

We never saw Harry again. Tom spent many months in hospital, raving like a mad person. His family blamed me, and I’ve not spoken to him since.

Jimmy was quiet afterwards, but decided to return to his IT career after declaring that if Star Trek had taught him anything it was that any sufficiently complex network of molecules could conceivably contain a consciousness.

He didn’t believe that the flow of bits and bytes had yet reached the same level of sentient malevolence that is found even in the simplest household plumbing.

Me, I realized that water cannot be controlled and our victories are only ever short term. It will pool around the weak spots, in your pitiful use of silicone sealant, gather its forces and wait. It will turn a pinhole into a raging torrent. When conditions are right it will become ice or steam to crack metal, dissolve wood and further break down attempts at control. Time is it’s ally, and its long term goals are beyond our mere human intelligence, but its patience can craft the grand canyon in stages imperceptible to us mortals.

Over the years I’ve reached an understanding with the water. I’ve made compromises, deals and negotiations. I am fluent in the elemental diplomacy required by the back boiler, the unpleasant negotiating tactics of the lead waste pipe. I can fix your pipes.

I don’t believe in false modesty, I’m the greatest plumber mankind has ever known, but at what cost? Only time will tell, but I have secrets I will take to the grave.

The Cartographer

2010-05-01T14:57:00.000-07:00

A Writer's Extreme Creativity Challenge: Write a story a day, in May. That's it: http://storyaday.org/.

#1 : The Cartographer

I permit the Cartographer to speak:

“In the forty eight years since we arrived on board, this entire space ship has been mapped by myself and my father. Seventeen decks, four and a half kilometers long and just under two wide. No other life forms have been encountered on board aside from the botanical gardens on the upper decks. We have been unable to locate or identify any form of controls, computers, or engines. The styling of the majority of the majority of the ships fixtures and furnishings appears to be early edwardian, and in most areas the actual hull can only be reached by removing faux brickwork”.

The three others in the candlelit room are nodding politely. This is pure exposition of course. We know all this, but the Cartographer has asked us here for a reason and considers it vitally important to re-iterate the facts as he sees them as often as he possibly can. It is how he keeps things under control. He gestures towards his drawing of the ship in profile.

“Except in this room. You will note that as far as our maps are concerned, we are currently at the lowest point on the lowest deck”. He walks over to a large book case which dominates the wall.

“However...” he pulls on one of the leather bound books, and steps back. The bookshelf rotates rapidly on its vertical axis revealing a chamber beyond. The Cartographer turned and faced his audience expectantly.

They are already getting to their feet, so let’s introduce them:

The fellow with the cigar is Robin Talbot. The second oldest person in the room at sixty eight, he looks much older, having located a store room filled entirely with what are apparently exceedingly good cigars in year twenty three and never looked back.

Nicholas Day is in his twenties, so he was born on the ship. He’s the stupid chap peering into the darkness of the chamber.

Frances Day is also in her twenties, I think, though it would be rude to ask, and I haven’t been counting. She’s slightly brighter than her husband, illuminating the darkness of the chamber with a lamp from the wall.

The chamber is a small, dusty, wallpapered room, about two meters square. It contains two things that mark it as distinct from the six similarly hidden chambers on the Library deck. Firstly, a corpse in a smoking jacket. Secondly, a wooden spiral staircase with a fragile looking banister leading downwards into a brick well.

The Cartographer continues: “My father and myself found this chamber yesterday, you see it exactly as we found it, Doctor Ellis, would you care to examine the body? Frances, Nicholas, could you bring it over to the table?”

I, Doctor Ellis, the eldest and wisest in the room drag myself slowly from the comfort of my green leather armchair, a kind that appears dozens of times throughout the ship in most of the rooms I have visited. I have recently decreed all such armchairs property of Doctor Ellis, though magnanimously overcome my irritation at the needyness of other people and permit them to use them.

By the time I have struggled to my feet, the body has been brought to the table for my joyous perusal. The corpse is male, dressed in a smoking jacket, probably in his forties, and has been dead at least as long, the skin having became cured rather than decomposed by the dry air of the ship.

“Have you been down the stairs?” says Nicholas.

“I took a look, yes, though I didn’t reach the bottom” says the Cartographer “the staircase continues like that for at least thirty yards downwards, with no sign of ending”.

Nicholas takes the lamp from Francis and begins his journey down into the darkness.

Looking closer at the body, it has two puncture marks on its neck. Considering this spacecraft's affectations, I consider the potential presence of one or more vampires as utterly unsurprising. Tedious even: vampires are incredibly boring though at my age I consider the possibility of eternal life with some curiosity. I announce my findings to the group.

“Vampires? Preposterous!” says Robin, coughing.

“We’ve known for some time that the ship will respond to people’s desires from time to time, though we are unable to know when and how” says Frances “It provided me with the pink floral wallpaper for my room. Beautiful though this is, the ship has not provided us with a means of obtaining reliable hot water on tap, so strength of desire cannot be a factor”.

Robin is looking at the corpse. “I remember this man” he says, and everyone looks at Robin, except Nicholas who can be heard tapping away down the stairs.

“He was one of the first people to wake up, a few folks people went off on their own to explore the ship. He never came back” said Robin.

I look at the body. My memory isn’t what it was. Robin could be right. The ship was very dangerous in the early days. Until the Cartographer created his maps, the interior was almost impossible to understand and seemed as though it could change at a moments notice. People could get lost for weeks. I wouldn’t like to say for certain that the Cartographer mapped the ships interior or actually took a hand in designing it as he was setting it all down.

Vampires are boring, and would barely be an improvement to the day to day tedium of life on this ship. If something was coming up those stairs to try to kill us all, I’d rather it was something vastly more interesting than a vampire. Potentially infinite staircase into darkness: surprise me.

And we hear Nicholas scream from some distance down the staircase. As the others begin to panic, a complex rhythm of tapping on wood and brick echoes up through the stair well, I return to my very comfortable leather seat. Francis shouts down the stairs for Nicholas but the sound that echoes back isn’t human.

Something interesting is coming.

24 Hour Comics at the Tyneside Cinema (Delayed Response 2)

2010-04-18T04:39:00.000-07:00

As is my way, I neglected to mention the EPIC 24 Hour Comic Challenge!

On March 13th and 14th, I attended the P.R.E.S.S. / Learning Revolution 24 Hour Comic Challenge at the Tyneside Cinema with fellow Paper Jam Comics Collective members Lily, Martin, Jack, Chris and fellow Tyneside Cinema screenwriting folks Melanie Holmes and Steven J. Smith.

We emerged victorious. Of particular note is Martin Newman's Beep and Evolution, which is available from Travelling man on Grainger Street in Newcastle. Martin hit on a sustainable plan from the get go, and is oddly enthusiastic about doing this more often...

My own effort makes not one ounce of sense, but it entertains me. and I'm pleased that some of the story works well enough without dialogue. I'm considering printing it up at A6.

Photos of the event can be found here and more reliably documentary proof of proceedings can be found on the Paper Jams blog courtesy of Mike Ducket and Martin's photo's here. Thanks to Ian Mayor, Oscillating Brow, Daniel Clifford and Terry Wiley for showing up with the moral support, sweets, wasabi peas and paracetamol.

Terry (front and centre in the above pic) and Oscillating Brow also took part in the 'Drink and Draw' phase of the event. Mister Brow produced his own 24 hour comic in under three hours: Cat. Cat has been selling exceedingly well and enabled Mr Brow to obtain a pint of beer from profit alone. You cannot argue with success.

I also enjoyed the Cinema staff's attempts to use the buildings many fire exits and corridors to terrify the girls making a documentary and make them wonder that they were not actually making the next Blair Witch Project.

The event featured hammers, mountains, fists, a war between leeks and carrots on a Lovecraftian allotment, the entire history and future of Human Evolution, diagrams and marriage, cheating death, really, really good coffee and that, and as the sleep deprived must surely assert:

Tru' Dat Yo.

Hi Ex (Delayed Response)

2010-04-18T01:53:00.000-07:00

Ok, so i'm not very good at keeping this blog up to date. I'll write a few posts about some of the comics related stuffs that I've been up to.

Hi Ex. Obviously.

Who in their right mind wouldn't?

The third Hi-Ex (Highland Expo) took place in Inverness on the 27th and 28th of March, making it the least freezing, or to put it more accurately, warmest Hi-Ex so far.

Once again Vicky and Rich put on a fantastic party, creating an entirely level playing field for fans, aspiring and professional writers and artists, small press and national publishers to get to know each other. Having sixty plus of the above crammed into a Chinese buffet and subsequently outnumbering a 'comics curious' hen party in the hotel bar was excellent. The resulting jam comics were predictably filthy in tone, and Al Ewing and Oscillating Brow never fail to crack me up.

Hi-Ex is very much a celebration of British and European comics for all ages - a lot of focus on The Beano and 2000AD, past and present was very welcome and has persuaded me that I should start buying it again. Dredd, Zombo and Damnation Station are currently excellent. Speaking of Mr Ewing, I wrote a bit about the Horror Panel separately.

Here's Charlie Adlard and Al Ewing in the hotel bar sporting Ben Clark Spine Chillers masks:

I won. Specifically, I won the Star Wars page from Dark Empire by Cam Kennedy in the Charity Auction. You are right to be jealous my friends. It's lovely. It tells a story on its own without the dialogue, and it's currently in the process of being framed.

Cam Kennedy is a fine chap, and everyone enjoyed his interview by Colin MacNeil, who had apparently had no sleep whatsoever, but held it all together admirably.

Anyway, this was my first Hi-Ex in an exhibitor capacity, representing the Paper Jam Comics Collective and OmniVistaScope with Oscillating Brow. Our table sold a few comics, and I think the tactic of taking a smaller selection of comics paid off as it made it easier to talk about them to folks.

Anyway, Hi-Ex continues to make this comics malarky seem like a worthwhile endeavour and introduce me to excellent people. Everyone is lovely. I'll be there at the next one, and you should too.

Stacey Whittle, Lynsey Hutchinson, Me

Good Crack

2010-04-11T03:08:00.000-07:00

Paper Jam's most recent anthology Space Monkey has been reviewed in the latest issue of The Crack - the North East listings magazine.

My own strip 'Cheese before Bedtime' gets a slightly ambivalent mention :-) and singled out for praise are Gary Bainbridge and Andy Waugh's silent six panel gags, and in particular, Martin and Sophie Newman's 'Alan The Confused Tortoise'.

You can read the whole review here...

For the record, we're not on acid, but I did have to tone down the sheer terror of Cheese before Bedtime, as it was looking a bit freudian in places. Here's an extract:

Horror Comics panel at Hi Ex

2010-03-31T07:31:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, I attended Hi-Ex. I'll write about it's wonders more generally shortly (which are already very well documented elsewhere). This post is specifically about the Horror Comics panel on the Saturday afternoon. These people took the stage:

Al Ewing, writer of Judge Dredd, Zombo and Desolation Station for 2000AD
Charlie Adlard, artist on The Walking Dead
John Higgins, artist on countless comics, Razorjack, Hellblazer, 2000AD. Probably most notably the colourist on Watchmen.
Terry Martin, editor and publisher of Murky Depths
Jasper Bark, i'm not familiar with his work, but he's a writer of comics, novels and childrens books. Jasper was the facilitor of the panel, and I had a great chat with him afterwards at the PJCC table.

And this is my interpretation and recollection of what was said...

The first topic on the table was the suitability of the comics medium for the horror genre, and how it compares to film and prose. A few fine folks had been discussing this in the hotel bar the night before, so I felt well prepared for the subject. On balance, it seemed most folk considered that both other mediums have distinct advantages over comics in the genre.

Show and Tell

Comics cannot so directly control the pacing, speed and atmosphere of the storytelling as film, nor do they have such a captive audience. It's easy to be distracted, to go make a sandwich, before turning the page. Shock, therefor, isn't strong point of comics - we didn't think it possible for a comic to genuinely cause someone to jump.

At the other end of the spectrum, comics don't leave quite so much of the atmosphere up to the imagination as prose. And there's nothing more horrific than what you can imagine.

John Higgins was the only panelist who favoured drawing the gore and the horror directly, the others preferring to leave it off panel. John Higgins is apparently trained as a medical artist though, so I guess he's the chap in the room most qualified to show you, quite literally, what you're made of.

Meat and Monsters

The conclusion therefor, is that comics own niche of the horror genre is to disturb and provoke rather than gross out or shock. Body horror was favoured by Al Ewing, who (I paraphrase) pointed out that regardless of what we might think of ourselves, we're all piles of goo. Which lead to a long discussion of the links between the classic monsters: transformation of humanity.

Frankenstein, Werewolves, Zombies, Ghosts, Vampires, all being transformed humans, losing their humanity and control, physically and psychologically. Swamp Thing fits this description nicely, and Alan Moore's take on Swamp Thing was well discussed.

Initially conceived as a man who due to a chemical accident becomes a "muck-encrusted mockery of a man", Alan Moore reworked the character as a pile of muck which comes to realise that the man it thought it was did indeed die in the accident.

This story is available as a PDF for download.

Supernatural Romance ??? WTF, LOL, etc.

The genre of Supernatural Romance was discussed - Twilight and the like. Obviously, this being wish fulfillment fantasy rather than horror, the classic monsters have had their fangs pulled. To generalise (possibly too much, since I'm not familiar), being a vampire in these series presents very little by way of problems beyond a mild addiction with no negative effects.

Vampires have always had a sexual element to them, which is why they often crop up as misunderstood heroes in contemporary fiction aimed at teenagers, and the panel discussed the reason for the neutering of this particular classic monster is simply because our attitudes towards sexuality have became less negative, puritanical or fearful since the Victorians.

Also, I guess, we're less convinced by the notion of being 'damned'.

The Rules

The rules for being a vampire may have been softened over time, as have the rules for many other monsters, but one of the key elements of the genre was the rules: most of these beasties are not particularly dangerous so long as you follow the rules. This was pointed out in horror parody Scream, on a meta level, in which the rules to be followed were that of the genre, not any particular monster.

The upshot of this hypothesis is that the true horror comes from the other human beings, then, who cannot be trusted to keep the rules either through incompetence or malice, and put everyone else in danger. The fact that Zombies can run now somewhat subverts this, but that's more to do with a change of pace in modern film than in the genre itself.

Neither Rhyme nor Reason

Ghost stories were pointed out as an exception, in which the rules are absolutely unknown and often unknowable until long after it's too late, regardless of whether the protagonists can co-operate with one another.

Alien was mentioned as possibly not being a horror film by the above definitions, but I think it fits nicely into the sub-genre of the Haunted House, of which the wider implication is the Death Planet: an environment in which anything can kill you at any time and for no reason at all. As Al puts it, more eloquently than I could ever hope to: OH NO! THEY WERE ALL EATEN BY A TREE!

Although a likeable, competent character is more likely to survive than those who aren't, plenty will die along the way, and such stories will tend to go out of their way to hide their protagonist untill late in the day. Since morality and competence is defined by the author, as is who lives and who dies, such stories make excellent cautionary tales, and were considered to be direct descendents of such.

And I pity the fools
Who don't recognize the rules
We cannot cheat the reaper's reap
And that is the end of that

And that is the way of such panels, we had an excellent wander around the genre and some of its implications for storytelling in all media, not only comics. Plenty to ponder, there I thought.

'09 Inspiration Constellation p3

2009-12-31T11:57:00.000-08:00

The Ouseburn : Open Studios / OxJam / The Late Shows

These events down in Byker have been fantastic tours of bizarre industrial work spaces, basements and pubs full of art and craft and music. The Open Studio's are restricted to the Ouseburn - as it says on the tin, but The Late Shows include venues across both Newcastle and Gateshead. Really great to talk to all the artists while they attempt to persuade you to drink wine and eat pork pies. Anyway, highlights:

Mushroom Works 20x20s - in which all of the participating artists create a number of 20cm square artworks for sale for £20. These seem to sell in minutes, so get there early!
Cobalt's Ben Atkinson
Barry Fox : Conceptual Piss Artist
The Discovery Museum put on a great set of shows, music, documentary and photography including the late Jimmy Forsyth.
Squares and Diddly Squat at OxJam

Peter Dillon's Screen Writing course at the Tyneside Cinema

An extremely enlightening course by Peter Dillon at the Tyneside Cinema, relevant to any kind of storytelling, but specifically aimed at Cinema. This covered some things you kind of know but maybe forget to put into practice when writing. Some stuff that I should have really considered when writing Tales of the Hollow Earth, like that your characters are meant to want something and be active, not sort of just hang around watchin' stuff.

Very useful, and there's an advanced course early in the new year that I'll try to get on if it hasn't sold out already. This page should list it but hasn't been updated in a while. Good. I might still have a chance.

'09 Inspiration Constellation p2

2009-12-31T10:01:00.000-08:00

Suggestibles : Improv Comedy Workshops

I went to these earlier on in the year. The Suggestibles are a well talented improv. comedy group who also do workshops for beginners. You don't have to intend to be a stand up comedian for these to be useful though, the emphasis (at least at the start) is not on being funny (which was useful), but excercises to loosen up and sharpen up the brain. Which is handy sometimes.

Learned a lot about storytelling on the fly which I've found useful, how to keep things moving in a scene, how to bring new elements to a scene and knowing when a scene is complete. I met some fantastic people at these classes. I'd recommend these to anyone.

Their website doesn't seem to work, but they've a MySpace page. You can normally catch them at their best at the Cumberland Arms in Byker.

Mister Fusty : Over the Rocky Mountains

Rob Gibson's first album with vocals, and it's cracking. This is still one of my favourite albums of this year and tracks from it are on most of playlists. It's hard to say whether the fact that I know Rob and did the cover have any bearing on this, but the fact that he's came up with something as great sounding as this is amazing to me. He just needs to figure out how to sell more now! You can help by obtaining a copy: Mister Fusty explains how on his website.

Anyway, I was also pretty pleased with the artwork, my first work for someone else for quite a while. It was collaged together from Rob's own photographs, and I think the result is 'right' for the sound.

'09 Inspiration Constellation p1

2009-12-31T06:58:00.000-08:00

2009 was a pretty good year for me. Met loads of new people and started to spend a lot more of my time doing creative stuff and a lot less worrying about work. Might as well list ten of 'em to remind myself of what should really continue in 2010.

The Bondgate Gallery

My sister and dad's shop went from strength to strength this year, selling original art, prints, framing and arts materials.

The battle for 'whose shop actually is it' in the hearts and minds of the Bishop Auckland public still rages on, but the main thing is that it seems to be getting known for good work and has really became part of the town I think, if you see what I'm getting at. There seem to be lots in the pipeline for 2010, including Bondgate Gallery The Movie.

The gallery has its own website, but the main news and updates are still mainly coming out of Eric Thompson's site at ukwatercolours.com.

Larry Marder's Beanworld

I've probably mentioned this to you before, but Larry Marder recently got out of the business end of comics and back into the drawing and writing of his fantastic Beanworld. That more people I know who are into comics haven't heard of this is completely amazing to me, they should. You should.

Anyway, this year saw two reasonably complete reprints in really nice hardback book form and an entirely new story which develops the growth of the beanworld, characters, physics and ecology. With the root system repaired and better established, beans are now starting to grow UP.

Face Front

2009-12-03T07:56:00.000-08:00

I've noticed that a lot of my scenes are being drawn in an over the shoulder perspective, so that the camera can see what the characters are looking at. The problem with this is that it means that my characters are always being drawn from behind and in silhouette. They only seem to get facial expressions in inset panels and talking heads sequences not in the dramatic scenes.

So i'm going to study how other artists handle similar scenes for a bit, then maybe redraw some of my Angler Fish comic for Daniel (yes, I've drawn some at least already).

One of the things I learned in the Improv Comedy Workshops earlier on in the year was to face the audience and where to put yourself on stage, I wasn't very good at that, but maybe I can apply some of that to my drawing.

Currently working on at the moment:

Lure
the 4 page comic about Angler Fish mentioned above.
STATUS: Currently Inking.
WormDream
an 8 page comic that will hopefully appear in Show and Tell.
STATUS: Layouts and Pencils Done.
Gabriel Fosco
written by Ian Mayor - a 6 page story that will become part of Martin Newman's epic project Z.
STATUS: Character and Set Designs, Script in progress.
Tales of the Hollow Earth 2 : Entomology
16 pages which I'd better finish soon because Mark Leonard has designed a fantastic origami monster and Stacey will probably kick my head in if I don't.
STATUS: 4 pages to go :-)

3 Shot Mobile Phone Panoramics

2009-10-31T00:56:00.000-07:00

The Naked Head - covers for nonexistent comics.

2009-10-28T16:10:00.000-07:00

A good few years ago now, I used to run a website called 'unfocused.net' which I occasionally think about restarting. The idea was photoshop tennis - people post images on a theme, then others manipulate and evolve.

On the whole, the site was a success, in that it generated some cool ideas and people enjoyed themselves. No points scoring, no winners or quality control: a communal sketch pad.

Anyway, i'll probably be posting some of the images on this here blog, for my own nostalgia more than owt else. All authorship is communal. It's getting on towards halloween, so here's a couple of fake comic covers that turned up:

Part of what made it interesting for me was that image size and download time was much more of an issue than it is these days, so the war against the constant introduction JPG artifacts and decay of image quality became a part of the game and part of the aesthetic.

Illustrator Comic Panel Guides Template

2009-10-27T12:33:00.000-07:00

What it says on the tin... a guide document in A4 for comic book panels in Adobe Illustrator. You can stretch it or resize it as needs be, but this is working for me a bit at the moment, at least for quick thumbnail drawings.

Adobe Illustrator Comic Panel Guides Template

It's basically a blank Adobe Illustrator document with layers for different divisions of rows and columns. Switch the layers you need on, the others can be deleted. Mix and match between different tiers is also possible.

Anyway, no warranty or support etc, this is something I made that I think is useful.

Something for the Weekend?

Can't be bothered? Quick start - here's a 42 page PDF with a variety of panel layouts, some basic grids, some more complex. Print out the lot for the kids or for improv sessions, or just the pages you fancy.

Blank Comic Panels PDF

How to make your own?

Oh go on then...

Open up illustrator 10 or above and create a new document.
Find the rectangular grid tool - it's hidden behind the line segment tool.
Shift or Right click it to select the number of horizontal and vertical dividers.
Fill your page with the grid. It will be just lines, no gutters at this point.
Select the grid and change the 'stroke' to be 16pt or whatever thickness you want your gutter to be.
Go to Object -> Expand -> Fill/Stroke
Go to View -> Guides -> Make Guides
Done, you now have in your layers palette a whole group of guide layers for each panel and gutter.

Make sure you have 'snap to point' set, and you can draw with any of the line, rectangle or curved rectangle tools in whatever point size you want for your panel borders.

Help!

Now i'm no expert in comics, but i'm not bad at this digital art stuff. So if anyone can point me at good software for making captioned screen videos of this kind of stuff, do let me know and i'll put some up.

Also, if anyone has a good way of making decent naturalistic speech bubbles and laying out lettering that ain't just plain ovals, that would be cool too. I'm currently using a font from Blambot called Digital Strip in my work. I quite like it.

Over the Rocky Mountains - by Mister Fusty

2009-10-26T12:54:00.000-07:00

Over the Rocky Mountains is the latest album by Whitley Bay based guitar/computer fiddler Mister Fusty, also known as Rob Gibson. It's his first to have vocals, and despite being a bit shy about it, it's damn good. Before I became familiar with the songs I would often find myself thinking 'why! who is this fantastic band' as he passed through my random shuffle.

Atmospheric, textured, alive, Mister Fusty's latest reminds me of Mercury Rev, Grandaddy, that kinda thing. Go visit his website, he links to plenty of places for you to listen to the album for free or even purchase if you like, like: http://misterfusty.com/

Oh yeah, I did the cover art, based on a handful of Mister Fusty's photographs from his recent trip to canada.

Space Monkey - from Paper Jam

2009-10-26T03:26:00.000-07:00

Space Monkey is the latest anthology from the Paper Jam Comics Collective based in the Travelling Man store in Newcastle. It's the second one i've had anything to do with and the first with a colour cover.
The full title is, as you see above: Space Monkey, featuring: Squids, Bicycles, Cowboys, Skeletons, Bogeys, Dinosaurs, UFOs, Galleons, Loners, Emos, Aliens, Accidents, Bulls, Electricians, Pizza Pirates, Missing Heads, Secret Codes, Astronauts, Cheese, Massive Plants, Toilets, Tortoises and Bob ...And That

It features some pretty cool strips. Mine is ok, though more of an experiment for me than a strip, so i'm cool with it if you think it doesn't work. My personal favourites are Oscillating Brow's "Dinosaur Nigel", Bainbridge and Waugh's "Dog/Pipe" and Clifford and Fallows magnificent "Biancas Bicycle", though there's nothing in there that you won't like. Really.

The cover illustration of Bosko the worlds greatest space monkey is by Dan Gilmore and is quite, quite splendid, as you can see. I did the design/lettering and put the damn thing together. I did ok :-)

Anyway, you should buy that - three of your english quid from Travelling Man for the time being though other places soon.

Costume Party - by Jack Fallows

2009-10-25T05:51:00.000-07:00

I recently read Costume Party, by the extremely talented Jack Fallows. I've had a copy for months now and keep glancing through individual pages and lookin' at the pitchas rather than actually reading the thing.

If you've done the same, I do recommend getting round to reading it. If you haven't bought it, do so. It's very strange and appears to tell several entirely different stories tied together by the title and tone. And the tone is downbeat and sad.

The first few stories are slice of life fragments of a child or teenage characters various failures to communicate, except via ink. He's haunted by an imaginary dull uncommunicative inky form, who turns up after the antagonist has left and says nothing despite it's only facial feature being a mouth: depression, barely personified. The design of this beastie is spot on.

Since the character is so Jack like, I hope that he's happier than this comic makes out - he does seem to be! But I don't want to put anyone off by saying that this is downbeat - this is beautiful stuff, drawn in Jack's typically poetic style.

Costume Party is a 210mm square book, black and white interiors with a very well designed colour on beige card cover. I normally see it for £3, and though it's fairly short, the craft here is lovely and well worth it.