It’s March – and thank fuck for that because there is only one word I can use to describe February: wank! Wankety wank wank wank. Wank.
Alright, maybe more than one.
I’ve no intention of going into the reasons as to why that month will forever be known as ‘Shitfest’ in this house, but those in know will understand why I am glad to see the back of the fucking thing! Thanks to those oh so wonderful 28 days, my head-fuck has multiplied by the power of ten and my depression is so deep it lies beneath the Titanic’s hull (something I’m pretty sure will come across in this ditty). Pills and pain have intensified to such an extent I spent all of Sunday in bed and the hard work achieved on the Pain Management Programme has been wiped out in one hungry swoop. But March is here, bringing with it the spring and new hope and a new start... and all that bollocks. I’m just grateful to the family and friends I have. I don’t really like the idea of acknowledgements on a blog, but as I say, February has been a twat and a few people deserve to know how I feel about them. My brother and his wife have been amazing, but their kids beat them hands down. Cheers to the Blaizes and thank you to all on PMP and FicFac, and a small mention for KM-T who was kind (and daft) enough to worry more than she needed to. And thank you to my wife who once more has proven she puts up with more than she should have to but remains as strong as ever.
On a cheerier note, the end of this month sees my venturing south of the Watford gap into that strangely-shaped locale the media is adamant the world revolves around. (Who knows, maybe it does but it would be nice for the weather men and women to recognise that without the north there wouldn’t be a south and as such, they shouldn’t restrict their panics to just when London suffers ‘extreme weather conditions’ (aka, an inch of snow) and utilize them for the whole country!) I’m off to Brighton for the World Horror Convention. (To those not interested in horror, see ya next time...) an event being held in Europe for the first time ever. As an aspiring horror writer, this is a chance for me to meet some of my heroes (James Herbert, one of those authors who greatly influenced by love for the genre), full fill fantasies (share the same air space as Ingrid Pitt while stealing a strand of air to be used in a future DNA cloning experiment) buy some great books, wonderful DVDs and most importantly of all, get together with like-minded people and friends to celebrate all that is a genre looked down upon by most of the public (looked down upon but often referred to as a guilty secret in the same manner as pornography – which would explain why so many shit horror movies draw in such large crowds. Think about it before you judge.) When there, I’ll finally get to share a drink with the supremely talented Adam LG Nevill, and maybe buy Sarah Pinborough a glass of Pinot Grigio before her career hits the stratosphere and she no longer recognises us lower minions. I’ll get to chat face-to-face with Allyson Bird instead of via a keyboard; I’ll latch onto the devilish Conrad Williams and ensure we both get pissed and stand in awe of Graham Joyce. And that's to name just a few. If you want to know why I hold these people is such high esteem, read their work. It’ll tell you everything you need to know.
Brighton is also going to be terrifying because my neurosis and anxieties will no doubt come skipping along, forcing me to act like a dick because I don’t know how to behave when either in:
a: A crowd
b: In public
c: With people I admire
d: Strangers... and friends... and family...
So I’m offering an apology out before anything happens, that way I might be able to remove some of my concerns and prevent a few sleepless nights. If my gob runs away with me, I’m sorry; if I start hassling, I’m sorry; if I talk shit, act shit and feel shit, I’m sorry. I’m just a bit odd.
I’m looking forward to this thing immensely, but I'm shitting myself also as there is a panel taking place called Pitch Black. This will allow me to try and sell myself and my work (at least 2 completed novels, maybe a 3rd) to various agents and publishers. Well, that’s me fucked. I couldn’t sell gold to the Vatican so how the hell I’m going to push aside all of my self-doubts, fuck knows. But I’ll give it a go – well, I say I’ll give it a go but only time will tell. Perhaps my train will be delayed. Maybe the thing will be cancelled. There’s a chance I might get waylaid...
But it’s more likely that I’ll chicken out and self-castigate. You never know – there will be plenty of Dutch courage on sale but maybe that’s even more dangerous...
The event is taking place in a hotel not far from Brighton’s Coach Station. Back in 2005, I provided the designs and calculations for the Brighton Coach Depot, and even organized and drew together the planning application. I have no idea if the thing ever got built, or if it did, if it was built to my designs, but just in case, I advise anyone using the depot for WHC to be careful when walking through its doors. Do not run, shout or sneeze as doing so might bring the roof down. Close doors gently and keep your flatulence to a minimum – anything more than a silent is taking a risk. You have been warned.
Just one other thing before I bring this aimless rambling to a close. The horror community is a close knit one that has to take a lot of shit from people who prefer to accept the image of immature stereotypes. Contrary to popular belief, we all have the same emotions and feelings as everyone else and we all get upset or angry when we’re prejudged and prejudiced against. Just because we are able to tap into the dark parts of our psyche doesn’t make us all nuts or murderers and yes we are able to love and care for each other. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have our twats and I lay out a simple message to the person who thought it a good idea to start a peevish hate campaign against a friend of mine: pack it the fuck in or I’ll get involved. Just because you have talent and intelligence doesn’t make you a better person. Bullies are cunts whatever society they frequent and you’ve been acting a proper cunt in recent months. So grow up.