Tunnel Vision

Posting here has taken a little bit of a back seat this week due to the riotous task of typing up chapter upon chapter from the notebooks. I swear there must be at least 60,000 words of material which is great... and it would be one hell of a lot of easier if I could read my own handwriting sometimes. Determination has set in now to wrap up The Family Of Noise and it shall be done. With a plan to abandon all the usual ports of call to sell a novel these days, which includes iBooks and Amazon, and sell directly from here in all digital formats, a limited edition hardback run alongside a (reasonably) never ending supply of print on demand softbacks (I much prefer that to the term paperback - I don't know why) I should really be thinking about a promotional plan to go along with it. If you want to use a gardening analogy, right now I have a packet of seeds, some good compost and a big garden to dig in. Next stage - readying the earth I think, followed by planting the seeds and letting the roots do their thing.

That's what I should be doing writing, typing or planning - instead (apart from the day job of course) I have been installing baby gates to keep Hector where he should be and out of places he shouldn't be, stripping old silicone sealant from the bath and putting new stuff in... things like that. I read an interview with P.D. James a couple of days ago and she was talking about how she works these days and about "the time the person comes in during the morning to type all of my dictated notes" - and I wondered if I would ever be like that. I can't see it myself. I hear all of the things people say about 'you're a writer - you should just be writing', but there's another part of me that says 'If you're gonna open a restaurant, you better be good at washing up'. That way, you're feet will stay firmly on the ground and nobody can make a mistake that you can't claim as your own.

Sounds nice though... just writing and leaving everybody else to do the dirty work. That would leave me with lots of time for installing baby gates, re-sealing the bath and other household jobs that need attending to.

Hmm.

•••

In the cracks of all of that, I've been trying to catch up with the recent Anglo/French serial The Tunnel, which while I'm quite enjoying it and it's well made, well acted etc... appears to be a plot point for plot point rip-off of The Bridge - the excellent Swedish/Danish thriller that ran a few years back. Maybe they thought that if the viewers only had to read only one set of sub-titles, that would raise the viewing figures?

And they would have been wrong...

Spiral anybody?

•••

I've been making some serious inroads with my "non-buying of stuff" commitment. Sort of. I haven't bought a physical copy of a magazine for the whole of this year choosing instead to do all my mag buying on the iPad. An interesting thing has come of this. Around July, I stopped buying any magazines even digitally apart from Vanity Fair (which as I've said before is excellent on the iPad and one of the very few that bothers to still deliver proper wiring and photography) and found myself buying comics again via Comixology instead.

Funny... the magazine habit was originally fuelled because I love them - or rather I used to love them before they all became inane copies of each other with increasingly low production values in search of getting more return on their pound/dollar/euro/whatever. Conversely, I stopped buying comics simply because they don't really sell them in the places I tend to be and, whenever I go into the local comic store, there's never what I really want despite what I'm absolutely sure are his best efforts. Comixology on the other hand... well I can hit that at three in the morning if I so desire and they deliver a killer product. Yeah, yeah, I kinda miss the old shit too, but I'm buying comics again which I wasn't before and I adore the reading experience of Comixology. Not saying you should do it... not saying you shouldn't. I'm saying that you should try it out and decide for yourself - and you should start with Trillium by Jeff Lemire.

Anyway - pre-kindle/iPad/smartphone boom - somewhere in the years gone by on here, I made a statement (which I didn't tag and can therefore not actually find) that went something along the lines of this: One day, all mass fiction will be delivered digitally because there is no need for it to be delivered otherwise. It's just a story waiting to be read. I still believe that to be true. I then followed it up by stating that the only books that would be published as hard product would be those that delivered something extra... art books, big photography books... those kinds of things. I still believe that too - there has to be some value put back into the things that we love other than this dumb-ass distribution/price war that goes on between bookstores and supermarkets.

And it has happened - not from a place or author that I expected it to though. The book is called "S" and it comes from the minds of JJ Abrams and Doug Dorst (yeah - that JJ Abrams). First of all, watch this:

and then this:

and then go out - to a real bookshop (you're thankfully unlikely to find it elsewhere) - put your money where my mouth is, find this, buy it and love it.

You won't be disappointed. It's beautiful - when you get it home, don't be opening it and dumping the contents all over the table to check them out either. As if that wasn't just peachy all by itself, I just found out that it also comes as an e-book produced for the iBook store and has all of the contents available in that version too.

You can read a full story about it here.

Wisdom:

It’s always possible to break into the circus with nothing but a pen.

Science Fiction Tattoos

“THE WAR OF THE WORDS”

The final book in the 2013 run on looking at tattoos in pop-culture. I'd like to say it's been great fun, so I will - because it has. Here's the view from the back of the book:

WE ARE NOT ALONE

A truer word has never been spoken. Once upon a time (in a far away galaxy) tattooed people were few and far between. Now, they walk among us. If anything, we have become the very people our parents warned us about. In Skin Deep presents The Best Sci-Fi Tattoos, we’re taking a long hard look at the ultimate genre for hardcore collectors and obsessives. How far will they go to commit their obsessions to skin? As you’ll find out inside, quite far indeed. From literature to the movies and the imaginations of those who work in this hyper-creative field, anything is possible if your passion is strong enough.

Alongside of this, we talk to some of the premier tattoo artists working in the world today, check in with creators and artists from the science fiction world who are either tattooed themselves or have contributed to the great art in some form and we also travel back in time to take in some history to see exactly what makes this fantastic world tick.

So, from Star Wars to TV and underground cults, from steampunk to Doctor Who, Aliens, Predators and clockwork creatures of fantasy—we bring you the future early.

Will that tattoo hurt? Yes—but in space, nobody can hear you scream.

PREPARE FOR CLOSE ENCOUNTERS

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CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON:

ORDER IT ONLINE HERE

It's also available at all good newsagents and bookstores - internationally.

DETAILS:

Softback • Full colour • 164 Pages • £7.99 • ISBN: 9780992687618

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Here's what it looks like on the inside:

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FOR THE FINAL TIME, CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON:

ORDER IT ONLINE HERE

It's also available at all good newsagents and bookstores - internationally.

DETAILS:

Softback • Full colour • 164 Pages • £7.99 • ISBN: 9780992687618

A Note On Doctor Who To A Friend...

Travelling from the north to the south of this olde country (makes it sound like Game of Thrones - and winter is definitely coming around here) with Frank LaNatra a few weeks back, I promised him I would send him a list of Doctor Who episodes that he should watch to get on track with it. Then I forgot until I noticed that yesterday that Mr Gaiman has posted his own 'good places to start' which in turn reminded me that I had forgotten - I kind of like the fact that he and I think more or less the same on this front. So - Frank - this is for you... I'll keep it down to six episodes so that you at least have a chance of making sense of it.

1. Human Nature/Family of Blood (it's a two parter)

My favourite episode of all time and also I think, the best written of them. What's great about it is that there's nothing to dislike about it - ever.

2. Blink

The infamous 'Doctor-light' episode but it's up here at the top simply because it's so well written and pared down to the bone. I miss Sally Sparrow...

3. The Girl In The Fireplace

Great aliens, nice time misplacement/displacement - there's even a horse in it. Everybody loves an episode of Doctor Who with a horse in it, right?

4. Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead (another two parter)

...because who knew that a shadow could be so cool - and it's our first introduction to River Song.

I also need to add The Impossible Astronaut and Day Of The Moon (also a two parter) because it has those suited up dudes in it which are the best new aliens in something like 30 years.

Damn - I'll stop there because that's eight and I promised six, (nine if you include the fact that I am going to casually mention The God Complex) but let's face it Frank, as I sit and write this, you have 17 days before the big 50th anniversary monster special we've all been waiting for in which to chew up seven seasons - you can do it man - but make sure you watch The Name of the Doctor as well before that or you might come a little unstuck.

This trailer will explain absolutely nothing at all for you but it's very cool and I like having it here:

It's worth noting that every single frame of this, every noise you hear and every word spoken is the entire 50 year history of the show in 60 seconds. My geek-out is now complete.

One day, I'd like to be able to add The House of Sipan to that list - but first I must finish writing it...

Footnote to Frank: I assume you can find this in the USA - the Doctor Who spinoff Torchwood ran a five episode long series called Children of Earth a few years back, which in my humble opinion is the finest science fiction writing of all time. For me, it's practically flawless in its delivery.

That should keep you busy - not that you're sitting around looking out of the window right now...

This Road Is Littered With Scarecrows And Faeries

I've discovered this weekend - but really knew it all along - that writing a book is not simply a matter of turning up at the page. It's half the battle for sure, but when the words that come out of the end of your fingers don't match up to the vision you had in your head, this causes trouble. I'm certain that I'm not alone in this find either - and why did that word 'battle' slip so easily into this paragraph? Surely the writing thing should be a joy, not a war to be won by beating nobody but yourself up. Yesterday, this is exactly what happened. I sat down to push forward with The Family Of Noise and wrote an easy chapter that, by the time I had finished, simply didn't belong. I put it to one side and decided it could perhaps be something in its own right. This is not the first time this has happened but it is the first time I've actually set something aside to do something constructive with. Would it be bad to admit that if, in the past, something didn't fit it found itself in the trash with no hope of a return to the real world? I guess it's not worth thinking about because the trash has been emptied. If writers pull stories from a big pool in the sky - as I believe they do - then it's only fair that if you're not going to do anything with the fish you caught, you should throw it back for somebody else to pick up and make a meal out of.

It won't be a very long story but the story is there to be told and I'm claiming it as my own. This fish is coming home with me and this fish is called Scarecrow. My gut reaction is to work with somebody to illustrate it. It's not a children's story but it's not an adult story either. It's just a story and maybe people that like stories will like it. I even know who I want to illustrate it so I had best get it into some kind of shape to send it to him and see if he wants to work with me.

Meanwhile, after that unexpected fish had been caught, I returned to what I was supposed to be doing and really did finish what I intended to in the first place - and it was much better than I expected it to be even though it took me down a road I wasn't expecting. This has made for a day of figuring out where to go next with it but... so far, so good. I like it this way. If I have no idea what's going on, the reader has not a hope in hell.

I'm massively aware that there's a lot of talk from me at the moment about finishing things off and anybody reading must imagine there to be something like ten projects all waiting to be wrapped up and you wouldn't be wrong. I've tried working on only one project at a time but it doesn't work for me. I much prefer this concept of working on several canvases at a time and seeing how things turn out. So while the actual work might take some time to reach its destination, at least we had a good trip, saw some cool things out of the window along the way and met some great people. It's the difference between launching the Maps app on your phone, following the voice and the route that everybody else will be taking, getting where you're supposed to be going quickly and efficiently or getting in the car with a vague idea of where you're going but being as nobody is really expecting you at the other end, why not take a look around and be inspired along the way. Those inspirations lead to other adventures and so it goes on...

There's a part of me that says this is wrong, but I spend my life working to deadlines (fast and sharp deadlines too) with the magazine, so I'm not going to beat myself up about it.

•••

On my travels of putting the science fiction book together - note to self: remember to put a page up for it as it goes on sale next week - I found many incredible sights that don't really come under any heading at all. One of them was the work of Henry Justice Ford. I had never heard of him before but he was one serious motherfkr when it came to making shit up and is most famed for his work on Andrew Lang's Fairy Books. Here's some of his work - why there isn't more jaw-droppingly incredible work like this out in the world today is beyond me:

But I remain hopeful all the same because my buddy Richey Beckett has this beautiful print available for sale right here - snap it up before they're all gone:

Finally - We Bought A Dog...

...and typically, it's none of the dogs that we've been looking at. He's a Border Collie crossed with a Poodle (the standard variety) so as of Sunday morning, he looked like this:

and eventually, he will look like this (which as has already been pointed out is not so different from yours truly):

We pick him up tomorrow afternoon and even though we have been out and spent the sort of money a homeless person could restart their life with, I have the feeling I am still unprepared for what is to come. We have named him Hector...

•••

Yesterday, I started looking at some travel plans for next year. New York, Oregon and Milan are all looking hot. It will be good to get back to the Apple but I've never been to the Oregon or Milan before. I also need to figure out getting back to Copenhagen for a week or so to recharge the heart. I wonder why some places echo with you and others send you scurrying. Do some places give off a vibration that are on the same wavelength as your soul and that's why you feel like you should stay? It's probably not selective is it? I guess they all do or they don't. Maybe it's the collective mindset of the people. Copenhagen: writing, drinking coffee, walking with the dog, taking in some good food. Somalia: murdering, stealing boats, kidnapping, buying a machete. Is that how it works? That government has got a serious tourism problem on its hands - Somalia, not Copenhagen.

I'm sure I can fit a couple of others in somewhere along the way - just not sure where or why. Lot's of time to decide though. Maybe something will get handed to me on a plate if I keep some time free. I know the Gods like to fill free space with busy-ness whenever they can - you just have to watch that you've taken care of all your shit at home first otherwise, the Gods can be lazy and simply pick up whatever is close at hand for you to play with.

We must make them work for their grapes.

•••

To wrap up, I'll leave you with this from a new friend... not for any ego reasons but because I like the way it sounds and it's funny:

"You write like Paulo Coelho crossed with Charles Bukowksi. I could totally be into that shit."

Can that actually be marketed in the real world?

Let's do this thing.

•••

* Apologies... I thought I had posted this already. It's now two days later than when I wrote it but not much has happened save moving everything in the house to about three feet above floor/dog level. He's very sweet but holy cow, he's gonna be a handful...

The Three Handed God

These are strange days we're living in. Maybe it's always been this way. On the one hand, we have a wonderful global publishing industry capable of doing fantastic things for an author - but most have failed to figure out exactly how to deal with technology and the future it's bringing with it. The very companies that can't figure it out are the very ones I'd love to sign a deal with - we'll all figure it out eventually I'm sure.

On the other hand, we have the mighty amazon enabling authors to do all of this for themselves with varying degrees of success, which is extremely liberating - but the more I look at what's on offer, the more I don't like what I see. I like bookstores but I like digital reading too. It's a very selfish game for all concerned.

There are many other hands as well but those two are quite sufficient to use to make a point.

With or without a publisher, agent, digital giant or anything else in my corner, I'm simply going to press on. I'm going to publish my own work as professionally as possible, providing a product - hard copy or digital - that matches anything that would come from a big publishing house in whatever formats work and with only myself to answer to. I have over two thousand books in my house - I know what a quality book looks and feels like and I think that counts for a lot.

Perhaps one day a publisher or an agent will come knocking on the door. I look forward to that day but I'm not holding my breath for it. After all, it's not like I'm coming to this from outside of the industry - I've been editing magazines for over 12 years now. Is it such a big deal to want to do them all without waiting for a team of professionals to 'approve' me first? Life is short my friends and there are many things to accomplish before we turn out the lights.

The way I see it is like this: if one of my favourite authors began publishing their own books - I would buy straight from them. I habitually check in at all their sites at least once a week. It's not a super fast way to attain stability as an author but neither is waiting for a publisher to decide you're the most important gun in their arsenal.

So let's see what this journey will bring. If you like what I write, you can sign up for some alerts here as to when a new book is available - I'd like to think we can conduct this reader/author relationship properly, just like you would with anybody else you might let into your life. This is simply about a new way of doing things. I've known this for a long time but the time has come to commit to it.

Just because I'm having fun, doesn't mean I'm not serious about it. I think David Lee Roth said that once but it's mine now.

Statement over.

The Wizard In Return - Plus Dog

...and relax. Just got back from Tattoo Jam to find Eleanor has already left for Milan - from which she then flies to Barcelona. Ouch. The best I can muster up for myself is to lie on the sofa, catch up on a stack of TV I've missed and make a vague attempt at figuring out where to start next.

First of all though, I'm home for at least a month (aside from the odd mini-trip) which means I can finally mail out some books - you know who you are if you've ordered stuff that hasn't landed on the mat yet. I'll be doing that today. They're in a box around here somewhere that we still haven't unpacked after moving. Also on the home front, the DOG thing is finally happening. He will kind of look like this:

This is one of the parents - the other one looks exactly the same. It hasn't been born yet but I guess it has to look something like this. He ticks all the boxes. Hair. Scruffy. Real dog size. Tail. Dirty face. What more could you be looking for in a dog? One of the things I've learned from this exercise is that as much as both of us would like to pull a dog out of the pound and make its life wonderful again, the vast majority of those dogs have been messed up by humans and we really don't want to have to deal with other peoples insecurities disguised as a family pet. No... the offspring of this canine will be fine, fine, fine thank you. I think we're looking at just after Christmas - bring it on.

This last week has been a blast. Busy - but a blast all the same. One of the nicest things about the shows is catching up with people that you like hanging out with that you haven't seen since the last show you did. Here's a snap of Scott Cole (ace photographer and owner of most of a van), Woody (much under-rated tattoo artist and owner of excellent jackets) and self.

I picked the waistcoat up last week on a whim. Wasn't sure if it would annoy me or not but I kind of like it. Paul Sweeney (all round good guy and funny man) christened me 'The Wizard' which came out of a "Look out Dumbledore has been shopping in NEXT" comment that I was oblivious at the time - I though it was a Roy Wood gag. There are worse things to be called. I can live with that if it happens to stick.

And if a link ever presented itself that you should use immediately, I came back from the show with Frank La Natra (genius creator and tattooer of excellent illustrative worlds) and we headed straight for "that platform" at Kings Cross to spend half an hour looking at wands in the shop. I must hit Kings Cross at least once a week and after the first time, you kind of take it for granted but I take my hat off to the entire Harry Potter world for the loyalty and enjoyment that it's created around the world. Pretty impressive when you stop to think about it.

I also stumbled across an illustrator at the show called Richey Beckett. After fawning over his work, I came away with a couple of prints that are seriously beautiful. Here they are:

His site is linked up above but here it is again - to go directly to his store to fill your own house with incredible art, you can go here. The guy is a force to be reckoned with. We will be staying in touch.

That's enough for now. More later - I need to go dig in some boxes, mail some things out and start chipping away at a rather large slab of work...

Let's do this thing.

Mr Bad Example

Decided to take the day off today and not do anything at all. Nothing - aside from dropping a blog post here anyway. What better way to spend your day off than watching a whole season of Californication. I think this one is my favourite - we're talking season three here - it's the one were there's a comatose stripper in his room and one by one, all of his dumped lovers (from the previous episode) turn up until finally, there' an apartment full of half naked conflict that doesn't come to a halt until Rick Springfield accidentally sets fire to the bedroom. Are you sold yet?

Anyway, after being rumbled by his daughter, there comes the closing scene in which Hank is trying to explain to her why he's an idiot - and he comes up with this:

"I started out with the best of intentions. I guess I just wanted them all to see it - the thing that makes them special. That's all anybody wants: to be seen, to be recognised."

And right there, in those few sentences, is the entire weight of the world explained in a nutshell. I truly believe that. The whole shooting match of life figured out in a sex comedy. Now you know what I know, you too can be at peace knowing that most people just want validation in the world.

•••

If that's not reason enough to be happy with the world today, how about watching the new Machete Kills trailer - and because I'm feeling good, you can watch it right here without going anywhere else. Knock yourselves out:

•••

And while I'm flaunting stuff in your face that's worth a damn, a few days ago, I came across this Sherlock Holmes tattoo. Absolutely, without doubt, the best of its kind I have ever seen. The man is question is JJ Osman - good work Sir...

So what else is a man to do on his day off? Well, he could clean up a folder on his desktop of some pictures he had collected along his digital journey. I may have posted this before but it can stand repeat viewings. If this book doesn't exist yet, give it time, give it time:

That's all for now folks. You gotta love the down time for what it is.

Maybe I should watch Ferris Bueller...

Love It Or Lose It

Considering I've been trying to get my total number of possessions to something that looks like the number six, how come it's taking so long to move house? Granted there are a number of picture frames (along with tubes that contain prints that I've never gotten around to framing) and a lot of books - none of which count towards the six - but there still seems to be an awful lot of junk kicking around. In my defence, 95% of the stuff that needs moving is not mine but I can hardly leave Eleanor to do it herself can I. Not in my defence at all though is the 5% I forgot about - there is much that can still be pared down. Do I really need two desktop phone chargers/speaker type things? Not really. I didn't buy either of them so I'm not even sure why they're here - but I'm the only one with an iPhone so I guess they must be mine. I might keep one on the desk but the other... it's a small one and whenever I go away, I always put it in my bag and never use it. That can be redistributed to the world for sure.

It's the little things like that causing the backlog. I tell you - if you ever consider attempting to do this, you've got to be ruthless, then ruthless again and then even harder on yourself the closer you get to the goal. On the plus side though, I did achieve my original goal of being able to move all of my own stuff in just one car trip. It was a little cramped (that guitar case isn't small) and there's not really any room for anybody else but that's OK. The work continues - I still think it's a worthy task to pursue.

Also, if you ever find yourself moving house in the future, why not try putting up a shed in the dark that a giant rabbit has to live in on that very night?

It's the most fun you'll ever have with a hammer and your fingers I promise you.

••••

What's next on the agenda? One of the things I've been working on this last couple of months is this:

This is the last in the series of pop-culture related tattoo books for 2013 - and if the comparison to the previous final stages are anything to go by, this won't be the final cover but it's close enough. I'm thinking that I'd prefer a purple masthead to the blue but that's a small thing (and not entirely my decision either) but so far, so damn good. That goes on sale November 14th and I'll post up some links of where you can get a hold of it - I guess I had better start making some plans on what to work on through 2014 now too.

Alongside of this, the book on horror tattoos will also go live as a digital book for the iPad at iBooks on the same day. I've seen a couple of pages from it and it looks pretty damn special... whatever you think of tattoos or digital books for that matter, this is the way forward. In the future, I suspect there's going to have to be damn good reason to commit to print runs. The future of physical books in a bookstore is in beautiful books with much thought and effort behind them, otherwise I am quite content - more than happy in fact - to read fiction on a device.

••••

Something else I've come to realise recently - and maybe should have months or even years ago - is that getting published by a publisher does not necessarily make you an 'authentic' writer. This might take a leap of faith amongst some writers/authors but basically, you either write words that people want to read or they don't. How they read your work isn't up to you. Writers need readers and that's the end of the story. Success will propagate itself because it has to. If somebody comes along and offers you a great deal, that's fine and dandy but if not, it doesn't mean you're worthless - it just means that you have either more, or less, work to do than the next man especially if you're the kind of person who likes to compare and benchmark themselves against the careers of others... as I have admittedly done in the past too and it's a bitch of a thing to shake off but from here on in, fuck 'em. I can't play that game anymore.

••••

For the remainder of the year, I need to put some final touches to a few projects of my own too. There's three that I'm working hard on to see the light of day before Christmas - if I can keep my head together and not get too distracted by kids, animals and the autumn TV schedule anyway. Stephen King was right you know... TV is the enemy but it also allows me to stare blindly at it and never asks me to do anything. Sometimes, that's exactly what you need.

But I'd still put a baseball bat through it given half the chance.

••••

Finally, you might have noticed the Big Bear Rescue project that I've started - it's in the tabs up above there. I figured that with so many people passing through my reasonable sphere of influence in the next couple of months, we could get this bear free pretty easily. I called WSPA to see if I could find out what it took. Was it a matter of money? Did somebody need to head out there? What's the story?

Two weeks on, I'm still waiting for a call back from them. Sometimes you have to wonder exactly what it is that charities do all day long. Sit behind a desk, stare out of the window and worry about how they're ever going to make things happen? That's how it appears. I guess I'll call again - stay tuned...

Not All Who Wander Are Lost

One has returned from the Paradise Show in the good ole' US of A. I am officially seven different kinds of messed up having spent more time in the air than I actually did on the ground. I did so much writing while I was away, I have something that looks a lot like a big enough collection of essays and stories that won't need an awful lot of additional work to put out a book. So I came back with a bee up my ass about getting that done sooner rather than later. The Family of Noise didn't quite get finished as planned but it got awfully close - work continues like a train running late on that. If I could shake off this dizziness and see straight again, I'm sure I would get there a lot faster. I also forgot we were supposed to move house this weekend as well but Eleanor is still in Dubai, so I guess we'll get around to that soon enough - she's back tomorrow, so we can wander around like the living dead together. How constructive of us...

Having written a fair amount on the trip that turned out to be worthwhile, as much as I'd like to, I'd best not drop it all on here - instead, here's some snaps of what the upper echelons of Colorado is like and may go some way to explaining why I think it's a great place to finish a book (and kick start some new ideas too):

This used to be a moose. I knew moose were big but I didn't quite figure on this big - and can't quite get it straight in my head how big it would be with the rest of its body still attached:

 

..and here's what it looks like outside where many words were laid on the page:

As I closed my notebook for the last time and sat right about here (above) at seven in the morning thinking about how fantastic it was, I realised that, high in the mountains of Colorado was not actually that much different from North Wales - it was just a lot further away and magnified in scale. I guess you don't appreciate what's relatively on the doorstep until all the pennies fall out of your pocket at the same time. So at some near point in the future, when I need to wrap something up again, I might simply decamp to the old birth-place and soak up what I should have all along.

To prove a point - even if to nobody other than myself - this is what I call home:

Not really a whole bunch of difference is there? I adore Colorado but I think I may have been somewhat foolish in taking for granted what's practically around the corner. Sometimes, you have to travel many miles to find what you where looking for. Ain't that the damn truth with everything?

Anyway, the most energy I can muscle up right now is to press some buttons on the remote control and watch Whitechapel.

Sometimes, that's good enough.

Later...

Time To Wrap A Few Things Up

Busy days - off to Colorado tomorrow and very much looking forward to it. Meanwhile, the morning after I leave, Eleanor is off to Dubai. I've never experienced anything like this before. It's a bit hectic but mostly because we're trying to move house at the same time. We've kind of half moved out, so there's no stuff here that we want but likewise, the other house doesn't have all the things in it that we need. It's a bit weird but I guess in 10 days time, it will all be over. All of it. I also have a book to finish. Finish or do not finish. There is no try...

Anyway - the Dog Day Afternoon is looming. As soon as everything up there is figured out, time to put the dog back on the radar. If you've been keeping up over the last few months, there was a dog called Kevin (we didn't move house fast enough to get him) and he's back on skid row for bad behaviour. There was also Badger, who has apparently got even worse issues. God only knows what people do to their animals to make them like that, but - in all honesty - I haven't got the heart to take on another human's issues in the shape of a dog. Time for a change of plan and look at some puppies.

This chap - Hector - turned up the other day:

He's an Old English Sheepdog crossed with something else, though without seeing him in the flesh yet, I can't tell what the cross is. Still, he looks like he knows a good time when he sees it. Even more likely though, I found out yesterday that the kennels up the road have some white German Shepherd pups that will be ready around the end of September - which is perfect timing... stay tuned.

White German Shepherd? How very Neil Gaiman of me. I can live with that. In other dog news, we've decided to get two - a dog each. Eleanor is veering towards a Husky right now but I think the short-list only something like 243 dogs on it...

Talking of Neil Gaiman, take a look at this. This is wonderful:

That's one fine. fine piece of art from J H Williams. Roll on the full experience - and if you're struggling to find something good to read in the meantime, I can recommend this with all of my heart:

I'll try and post while I'm away but mostly, I am looking forward to the solitude. 11,640 feet above sea level and a population of something like 17 people? All books should be finished like this - and maybe they will be.

A Stolen Idea: An Interview With Myself (Sort Of)

I don't normally buy newspapers but I did today and in the Traveller section of the Independent, there's a QA session with John Cooper Clark which was a great read - presumably this section called My Life In Travel is in the mag every week. I would say that I will pick it up again next week but I'll have forgotten about it by then so instead, just for some fun, I thought I'd steal all the questions from the piece and answer them myself. Let's do this thing: First holiday memory?

Blackpool with my grandparents. I guess we would have gone by train because nobody had a car back then. It sounds idyllic to me now but it was probably done on a budget of hardly any money at all because there simply wasn't any. This would have been my first introduction to Punch and Judy, saucy postcards and being the proud owner of a bag of pennies to distribute wantonly in amusement arcades, but the highlight would have been getting to see the brilliant clown Charlie Cairoli in Blackpool Tower. A few years ago, I found out that in 1939 he performed for Hitler who presented him with a watch for his trouble. When war broke out, Charlie walked to the end of Blackpool Pier and threw it in the sea. They don't make them like they used to that's for sure - and there's something really sad about that.

Favourite place in the British Isles?

That's a tough one. I have a huge soft spot for Braunton in Devon, but then I also love Llangollen in North Wales - when I think of 'home', that's where I always gravitate to. We didn't live there for very long but when we did, it was in the shadow of Dinas Brân which suited me just fine. Considering how it dominates the town and its age, there's not that many legends that spring from it, but this is a good one which I can't be bothered to type out so I'll cut and paste it as it stands:

The castles first literary appearance is in a 12th century historical document entitled "Fouke le Fitz Waryn," or "The Romance of Fulk Fitzwarine." In this tale the castle, named "Chastiel Bran," is referred to as a ruin during the early years of the Norman Conquest. The tale continues to tell of an arrogant Norman knight, Payn Peveril, who hears that no one has had courage enough to stay overnight inside the castle ruins, for fear of evil spirits. Payn and 15 'knightly followers' determine to stay the night. A storm blows up and an evil, mace-wielding giant called Gogmagog, appears. Payn defends his men against the attacks of the giant with his shield and cross, then stabs Gogmagog with his sword. As the giant is dying he tells of the earlier bravery of King Bran who had built the castle to try to defeat the giant. Despite King Bran's attempts against Gogmagog the King had been forced to flee and since then the giant had terrorised all the land around for many years. The giant also tells of a great treasury of idols buried at Dinas Bran which includes swans, peacocks, horses and a huge golden ox but dies without revealing its location.

As far as legends go, that's not a bad one. Many a rainy afternoon in the school holidays was spent looking for treasure. For those struggling with the language, Castell Dinas Brân translates into English as Castle of the City of Crows - or more casually, Crow Castle. So I guess for those that know me well, two plus two might begin to look something like four now.

There's also the weirdest book shop in the world in Llangollen - it must hold over 10,000 books but none of them seem to date any later than about 1975. If you want a knitting pattern for how to make a jumper with a tiger on the front that makes you look foolish, that's the very place to go. They have dozens of them. Mind you, if you ever wore it outside, people would probably stone you.

Anyway, here's a picture of Dinas Brân so y'all can get jealous:

Holiday reading?

I haven't had a proper 'tools down' holiday for a long time. I convince myself that when you really love what you do, why would you need a holiday, but I don't think that's absolutely true. I used to stock up on books for holidays like there would be a holocaust. But, to get to the point, the last few times I've been on something I've called a holiday, I've committed 100% to audiobooks. They sit on my phone and you can 'read' them while you're walking through airports, drive... all kinds of things. That's not to say I don't buy books that I find along the way but audiobooks are vastly under-rated. If anybody is looking for a good place to start with them, try absolutely anything by Michael Robotham. Not only are they fantastic crime fiction but they're read astoundingly well by Sean Barrett. Mind you, get a bad storyteller and I don't care how good the book is...

Where has seduced you?

Keystone in Colorado. I didn't know what to expect the first time I went but the first morning that I woke up there, I went outside and smoked a cigarette on the porch of where I was staying. There's a picture of it on my biography page. Right at that moment, everything slammed into a perfect clarity for me and the world made sense for once. I felt like that every morning I sat out there too. I probably shouldn't go back in case I break the spell but in about eleven days time, I'll let you know.

Worst travel experience?

That's an easy one. Anything that is floating on the sea. I must have the worst sea legs in the world. I get sick before anchors are dragged up. Having said that, the more money you pay for being at sea, the better the experience seems to be. So to answer the question properly, being a passenger on the ferry between Dover and Calais is awful. I've done it a few times and it never fails to make me miserable.

Worst hotel?

Hmm. Can you call a Travel Lodge a hotel? You can hardly call most of them even habitable these days. However, the worst hotel I've ever been in was in New York - although I found something quite rock n roll about it, so I didn't consider it to be that bad at the time. Looking back, any hotel with a giant mural of Satan painted on the bathroom wall with the words "I am the slave of he who created me" daubed on the wall around him is not a good place to be. The bad was pushed in front of the door that night.

Best hotel?

Lots, but two of the nicest experiences I've ever had have been in the Marriott in both Portsmouth and Cardiff. They have knockout facilities in those places and seem to really care about what people say about them when they leave. In my world, that's called 'production values'. I like hotels a lot and am easily pleased for the most part. I lived in one for a whole month once in Gloucester Road in London until my money ran out and then I lived on Euston Station instead. True story - best told over a coffee somewhere.

Favourite drive?

Anywhere in North Wales is good but I drove from Inverness to Skye once and that was breathtaking. It was like being in The 39 Steps which appealed to me just as much as what was going on outside the window. You can stumble across some weird stuff on a drive like that but if I had to pin a single drive down, it would be the road that goes through Foyers on the shore of Loch Ness that leads to Boleskine House. Try it sometime - you will see.

Best meal abroad?

Without doubt, last year at Spinnekopke in Brussels. How can you describe a meal in which you would be happy if you never ate again knowing food didn't get any better than that?

Favourite city?

Copenhagen. It used to be Paris but now I've been to Copenhagen, that takes all the prizes. It ain't cheap but the minute I walked out of the hotel and hit the streets, I knew I could live there from that day forwards until I died. I still feel like that now. Beautiful people, fantastic culture, great food, great walks - the list of things I love about Copenhagen is endless.

Where next?

Well, like I said, Colorado - but come November, I have an appointment with Florence which I'm really looking forward to. I haven't been to Italy since I was a kid and was totally blown away by Pompeii. I don't know what to expect from it in the slightest. I try very hard not to expect anything from anywhere I go - expectations are a very lucrative way of being let down when you get there.

Frosting On The Railroad

The diary is getting full - no complaints here though. Next month (that would be September if I have my facts correct) sees a double-headed working trip to Colorado, delivering the first draft of The Family Of Noise to my pseudo-agent, wrapping up the Sci-Fi Tattoos book and a house move on the cards - throw into the mix that the day I come back from the States, Eleanor leaves to go to some week long 'thing' in Dubai and that's September pretty much finished before it has begun. Also on the cards somewhere in there is a meeting about re-booting The Ballad Of The Goat-Faced Boy project which I have medium-sized hopes of getting back on the table after it fell off. Not that I actually have a diary - I can't think of anything worse then having a diary when you have lots on your plate. That would be just one big fat reminder of all the things you hadn't done.

Talking of things I haven't done - I have quite a long short story that I need to wrap up: The Run-Along Man Sells Spoons. It's quite something - well I like it anyway. Now I have written that down I think I may have mentioned it here before. It needs shopping out into the big wide-world somehow so I'm going to take some time out soon and see if I can talk anybody into playing host to Arthur Conan Doyle crosses paths with Monster Magnet. It's clocking in at 10,000 words right now - so that's quite a long short story really. Let's see how it wants to end and take it from there.

•••

I used to love magazines for their own sake - that ought to be obvious being as I've spent most of my adult life around then in some form or other. Is it my imagination, or are they suffering badly right now? My own mag aside (obviously as I'm not allowed to have an opinion about that) , the only other magazine I buy and read without fail every single month is Vanity Fair. (I love the way the distributors think they know the mag and choose to sell it amongst women's magazines almost as much as I love the way they think they know my mag and choose to sell it either with bike mags or up on the top shelf). Vanity Fair is excellent  - it has world class writers, doesn't skimp on the photography, has superb thought behind the production and the iPad edition rocks hard too. I take a lot of cues from Vanity Fair but hopefully, nobody can tell.

So, this week, I picked up a copy of National Geographic Traveller hoping for inspiration because I love travel writing when it's from the heart. But that's not what I got...

What I got, mostly, was 18o odd pages of watered down press releases that do nothing more than appease advertisers. There's a couple of good (even great) features in there but for the most part, that's not what I expected from National Geographic at all. When you see a story about New York and the intro says "If you think you've seen New York, think again" and the pictures that follow are of the Statue of Liberty, Central Park, Grand Central and a shot of the skyline... well it doesn't bode well for wanting to really get into the guts of the thing. When did readers become stupid and lazy? (I'm tempted to state here that it was the day they switched the internet on but it's asking for trouble).

That left me with two trains of thought:

1. Mail National Geographic and tell them that when they were tired of their editor, they should maybe give me a call. I'm not perfect but that mag needs some big steel balls if National Geographic are going to keep their reputation intact going forward. Then again, what the hell would they do with a loose cannon on the deck?

or:

2. Start my own travel writing blog where I could see if I was able to back up Point 1 in relative safety. Yeah... it's easy for me to sit here and take a pot shot but in my defence, I'm not doing it anonymously. Could I be good at travel writing? Could I be great at travel writing? Could I be the most loved and hated travel writer of all time?

Not a clue. Let's build a blog to work with and see how that pans out. I'll be sure to mention it when it goes live and you can all pile in with your size tens if you wish.

Anyway, if you want travel writing done properly, pick up a copy of the book (or audiobook - which is also top notch) Travels With Charley from John Steinbeck. It may be over 50 years old but hey, Game. Set. Match as far as I'm concerned.

•••

On which subject - take a look at this train which is run by Renfe I believe - it's a luxury cruise liner and I would give many, many right arms (don't care who they belong to) to write a story about it for... well, I'd write about it for anybody to be honest. If you guys pick this up from a tag, sincerely... drop me a line and let's set something up.

•••

That was a lot of words without even so much as a picture break, so to make up for it, here's The Posies performing the entire - yeah, ENTIRE - Frosting On The Beater album at Donostikluba 2008 (which I believe is in San Sebastian). Go make tea first... it's over an hour long.

Be cool to each other...

Dear Sean Penn...

Dude - why didn't you drop me a line to let me know about this film you made? I mean, it's seven years old now and yesterday was the first I had ever heard of it. Do I have to mail you stationery or what? Anyway, it could well be my most favourite film of all time - and that's saying something, so thanks. Thanks for making a film worth staying up all night for. I know it's your job, but hey - these days you have to stand up and be seen waving the little flag of awe when somebody does what they say they're going to do.

Seriously man - I cried, I laughed, I thought about my life, eventually went to sleep and quite possibly woke up a slightly different person.

•••

For any of my friends passing by, you should watch it - it's widely available on Netflix.

Radio Chaos

Last Thursday morning, I got called in to the BBC offices in Great Portland Street to record my section of a programme about how tattooing features in fine art - or possibly how fine art features in tattooing. Hosted by the lovely Mary Anne Hobbs for the BBC4 Culture Show, it was damn good fun - I always think radio is a peculiar beast to be involved in. A small part of me suspected that we would all be in a room together but I found myself to be the only one in London that day - everybody else was presumably in the same boat elsewhere. The weird part about it is that as soon as the actual work begins, you forget you're not all in the same room and treat it as if you are. After a few minutes you can even begin to predict body language by the tone of a voice. You get to know when somebody is about to falter and you can fill in a blank or pre-empt where a 'polite' gap will be that you can interrupt. For 50 minutes, I thought that this could be exactly how Matt Murdock operates but Matt Murdock would not have stolen his BBC pass that they asked to be handed back in - and neither would he have taken a picture of a lonely recording booth:

No idea when it airs - I don't think they know yet either but I'll post here when it does. Here's the link to their home page - there's some good stuff on there and it feels good to be in such company. I'll file that one in the 'win' column.

...and if you ever get invited to take part in anything to do with the BBC radio, I suggest that you pick up your own coffee from just a few yards down the street. This cup  on the desk is not indicative of what they actually serve - just a happy forethought on my own behalf.

Sometimes, I Really Want To Go Home

Holy mother - it's August tomorrow. How did that happen. Statement not question. Truth be told, the last 'event' I can remember in recent memory might even be Christmas. Today, I had to revisit my (still) great idea of not owning anything as I wander through life. This is because Eleanor made me play a silly game called "If you could move back home to Wales, where would you like to live?" - which prompted searching online around some of my old stomping grounds, and I happened to find this:

and this:

and, er... this:

All of those pictures link to the estate agent pages. Right now I am feeling pretty homesick which is something of a surprise considering I couldn't wait to get the hell out of the place 25 years ago. Then again, at the time I was living in a single room not much bigger than a dog kennel in a house shared by eight other guys I didn't even know, in a town that was on its knees - so my prospects where pretty damn grim to say the least. It was the right thing to do at the time.

25 years later, I'm kind of thinking that in reality, I might actually like to be that successful. Maybe that's what I'm missing. Maybe I should really want this sort of stuff to make it happen, because when you don't want anything at all... that's very easy to get - and exactly what I have got.

Perhaps I should plan the biggest ever DaVinci Code killer and then cough up some small change from it to own something like this - (where, if I have my geography right, I would have royal neighbours not too far away):

Who wouldn't want dolphins in their back fucking garden!

I am buoyed by the fact that I have seen some of the houses successful authors own - but then, they all have finished books that sold well.

This is definitely a two cigarette problem.

Storm

It's 2.30am and I've just witnessed a real 'calm before the storm'. I put my pen down after a long writing stint only because there was lightning outside, so I went to investigate.The sky is full and heavy with black clouds that look like they've been created with CGI but there's nothing else. It's not hot or cold. There's not a whisper of a breeze. No animal noises, no cars... not a damn thing. Even the animals in the house are remarkably quiet. I can't quite describe it other than to say, the world outside appears to have stopped - almost as though it's waiting for something important to happen. It's times like this that you can cut through modern science and its matter of fact way of destroying everything magical and understand why Gods were put in place by way of explanation. It's late and I'm tired - but I think I'll pull up a garden chair, smoke a few cigarettes and see how this is going to pan out for a little while. Somewhere out here, are the answers to everything.

Moths.

Earlier today, I posted a page about the release of the comic tattoos book - then I made the mistake of looking at the white pad I'd left on the table, the one that I'd scrawled all the things I still have to do before the end of the month and simply fell into a black hole of depression. Well, not so much depression as a clinical professional might have it but it felt pretty damn low all the same. It started with some errant thoughts of 'however much you do, there's still another bunch of stuff waiting around the corner to busy yourself with' - which more or less means that no matter how much you really think the last thing you did was great (or at least as fine as it could be at the time), there's no time to appreciate it because (if you're like me) your next project has to kick its ass from here to the edge of the planet. And so the circle continues. This could well be the story of my life though if I asked around, it's very likely that a lot of people feel like this.

Back when I was writing songs, when I really hit my stride with it, I wrote so many - maybe 60 or so - over a three or four month period, that I look back on now as being damn good that I'm just pissed off at myself in hindsight that I never did anything with them. It wasn't that I was scared of failure (or success) - in my opinion they simply weren't good enough and thus spent the rest of their lives sitting on old cassette tapes or scraps of paper. Having a job that forces you into a pretty harsh schedule for writing (the mag comes out every four weeks) a lot of that mentality has disappeared based on the fact that if you don't do it and do it good, you won't have the job for very long.

It hasn't disappeared altogether though. Which is my round-about way of saying I'm having doubts about The Family Of Noise - more than the story itself, I've made it difficult by trying to say something within its pages. I can feel it there but man, it's buried deep at the moment and I'm digging in all the wrong places. Which - given all I said above - makes me feel like throwing it in the trash and starting again.

Except, this time I won't because I've done that too many times and been sorry as hell afterwards.

It's times like this I wish I had some kind of mentor kicking around or a writing group, anything that would prop me up for a few days and tell me it will be fine if I work through it one word at a time - but right there, I've already told myself the only sensible thing available. On the plus side, that's a lot of time saved for both of us.

If the tool of choice was a guitar, I'd smash it up tonight just for the hell of it. Somehow, smashing up a pen seems a rather hollow gesture.

So instead I did something I don't do very often (or often enough maybe) and took to the bath with three unfinished boos to read. It's still pretty hot here today so the window was wide open. The darker it got outside, the more moths came in until finally, there were at least twelve of them in there and I thought I had better get out before it got messy. There was a fine looking one which I believe is called a 6-Spot Burnet (not a geek - I looked it up for the sake of the post here), some regular looking beasts and finally, there was the one that dive-bombed the water after I'd pulled the plug that I rescued and left on the side of the bath to dry out.

Somewhere in here, there is a lesson.

When you see the light, fly towards it, then: shine like a diamond, be a regular joe or drown yourself because you're not paying attention to what's going on.

Or maybe it was just moths in the bathroom.

With my frame of mind tonight, I think it was just moths but my soul knows better...

Don't Try This At Home

After all this time, I finally witnessed it with my own eyes. The kid must have been all of 10 or 11 and figured that he could go from a standing position to standing on top of the iron bars around the trolley park. C.M. Punk in the making perhaps? No. It doesn't take but a second to go from hero to zero as you slip and land face first on the concrete, smashing your mouth open and breaking your specs. Less time than that even.

Don't say they didn't warn you.

•••

Work continues on The Family Of Noise. I don't get along so well with this kind of weather we're having, I guess I'm built for a more 'wet' climate which means I am wandering around like a dog, notebook under arm, looking for the coolest place in the house to bed down and write. File under: not very constructive.

Also not very constructive is getting hooked on a book that you know your own will never be as good as.

I know this for a fact and am quite accepting of it. If it's even almost as good, that will be good enough for me. This guy held the number one spot for me last year with a book he had written some years previously but it was so 'huge' in its delivery, it stomped all over some literary greats. The man is Graham Joyce. Last year's book was Some Kind Of Fairy Tale and his latest that I'm ploughing through right now is The Year Of The Ladybird. Somebody at the publishing house needs to get some traction behind this because Joyce deserves to be much more widely read than he is at the moment. To kick back and say 'I really wish I had written that' is not something I say very often - and it's normally about a song when I do.

Maybe I should say it to nobody but myself? Follow it with some warlike cry of "Joyce, I'm coming to get you!" Yeah... that's what I'll do - but only to myself.

So while you wait for me to finish The Family Of Noise, go read Fairy Tale and Ladybird. Not necessarily in that order. This is what Ladybird looks like. Go find it:

So good, if you think you might have a book in you, it will make you think twice about putting pen to paper.

That's probably not the greatest blurb quote you can say about something, but you get the picture.

•••

..and now back to work.