Ken Preston's Blog, page 3

That’s my favourite thing about you

I’ve been working hard these last few weeks writing romance novels. I know, I know, you’re not the romantic type really, are you? Well, not in your reading tastes anyway. Who knows, you might be the romantic type in real life, whisking your partner off for surprise weekends away, unexpected kisses and cuddles in the middle of the day, and meals for two in romantic restaurants off the beaten track.

But you don’t come here to read about romance, oh no, this place is reserved for zombies and vampires and my inane ramblings about Jaws being the best…zzzzzzzzz

Hey, wake up!

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yes, I’ve been writing romance novels. I sold one a couple of weeks ago and I’m reaching the end of another which I hope to sell towards the end of August.

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That makes eight romance novels written in total, four of which I have sold to My Weekly for their pocket novel range. (Hopefully that will be five by the end of this month.)

Add to that four Joe Coffin books, and three young adult books (and there’s a new one of those coming out in September), that brings my total of books written and published to sixteen.

Sixteen full length novels, and one collection of short stories.

And a blog post every Sunday (give or take a couple) since August 2017.

That’s an awful lot of words and time spent sitting in front of a computer writing.

But I enjoy it.
It’s what I do.

Still, I’m a little surprised to see that, out of the three genres I write in, romance, horror and young adult, romance comes out on top in terms of number of books written.

Romance: 8

Horror: 4

Young Adult: 4

That looks kind of like a football score, doesn’t it? Except with three teams and a high scoring match.

No?

Just me then.

But I’m thinking I might have reached the end of my romance writing days. I enjoy writing them, but I do tend towards the darker side of literature. And I have a lot of stories banging around in my head which I feel the need to write, and none of them are romances.

Next up will be Joe Coffin Season Five.

I feel a bit bad mentioning Joe, because I fully intended to have Season Five written and published by now, but I haven’t actually written a single word so far.

Sorry.

After recording Joe’s shenanigans in another outing of vampires and criminals, I’m fully expecting to be finally writing that long awaited sequel to Caxton Tempest at the End of the World. It’s been a long time coming.

After that it will be Joe Coffin Season Six, followed by the third book in my young adult, Planet of the Dinosaurs series, which may well be the last one as I like the idea of that being a trilogy.

Along with more blog posts and a series of stories for my Ko-fi subscribers, it’s going to be a busy year or two.

But no more romance.

Which will be a shame.

Especially as one of my friends recently said to me,

“That’s my favourite thing about you…horror and romance writer.”

Now I would have hoped that her favourite things about me were my rugged handsomeness, my scintillating wit, and my magnetic charisma.

But no, it’s the fact that I write both horror and romance.

Well, no longer.

Once I have finished this last pocket novel romance, there will be no more.

Which means my friend will have to find something else about me to be her favourite thing.

My rugged handsomeness maybe? My magnetic…oh, never mind.

Did you vote in last week’s poll on how likely it is that I would to survive a zombie apocalypse?

Here are the results:

A staggering 37% of you said, ‘You’re dead unless you get your shit together right now!’

But only 12% said ‘You’re one badass zombie killer!’

Thanks guys!

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My Top 6 Tips For Surviving a Zombie Apocalypse

Zombies are everywhere right now. I blame Robert Kirkman and Frank Darabont. Zombies had been shuffling along in their brain dead way, powered mainly by the occasional film from George Romero, and a few pale imitators when suddenly word came out that there was a TV series arriving called The Walking Dead, and it was rumoured to be really, really good.

Well, the rumours proved correct, and The Walking Dead turned out to be not only good enough to still be running ten seasons later, but it seems to have kick-started a whole new fascination with those brain-munching, conversationally stunted and hygienically challenged aimless shufflers.

And so it got me thinking, what would I do if I woke up tomorrow to find the zombie apocalypse had arrived whilst I slept?

Assuming that Mrs Preston and Things One and Two hadn’t been turned during the night, here is my top six list of survival tips for us to survive the Zombie Apocalypse, Preston style.

Why only six?

Because I couldn’t stretch to ten that’s why, now shut up and read the list before you get munched!

ONE

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I’m going to assume that we had been hearing about infections happening abroad and so, being the zombie-savvy kind of guy I am, I’d already started taking precautions. Mainly these precautions would have involved trips to Waitrose to stock up on tinned food and Snickers bars.

I love Snickers. Chocolate and nuts in a bar, who could resist? Also a nutritionally high value snack item. Chocolate to give you energy, which will come in handy with all that running away from zombies we are going to be doing, and nuts for protein to build muscle mass, which I guess I’m going to need plenty of as I’m thinking that surviving a zombie apocalypse probably involves a lot of manual labour and DIY. Speaking of which…

TWO

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I need to start honing my DIY skills. At the moment, said DIY skills consist of being able to change a light bulb and (sometimes) hang a picture on the wall. Somehow I don’t think either of those skills will come in much use during a zombie apocalypse. Mrs Preston once asked me to change an actual light fitting. I said no. After much encouragement on the part of Mrs Preston I finally agreed to give it a go. By the time I had finished, when I tried switching the light on, the toilet flushed instead. Mrs Preston called an electrician.

But I get the feeling that after the zombies have arrived I will need to be able to build and set traps, maintain and fix cars, maybe even build us a fortified cabin in the wilderness. As Youtube won’t actually be a thing anymore, along with Facebook, Twitter and JustEat, I’m thinking I had better stock up on some DIY manuals along with a visit to B&Q for those essential tools of the trade.

THREE

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Right, so now that we have stocked up with tins of food and a gazillion Snickers bars, along with drills, hammers, saws, etc, and a few hefty manuals on how to use them, not forgetting water, clothing and a typewriter (what, you think I’m going to stop writing books just because of a few pesky zombies?) we need to think about how we are going to transport all that clobber. After all, it seems that everybody has to leave home at some point during a zombie apocalypse.

Cars aren’t going to be much use after the first few months of this brain-munching new world order as petrol has a very short shelf life. That’s right, petrol has a storage life of three to six months. After that we’ll need to start making our own fuel, or find a different form of transport.

My preferred option would be to get out of town quick before the petrol supplies either a, run out or b, become useless. But where would we go?

FOUR

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The less populated, the better, right? Somewhere in the far wilderness, where there was hardly anybody alive to be turned into a zombie in the first place. Unfortunately, living in the West Midlands in the UK, the nearest I get to isolated wilderness is when I am in my cellar. And we can’t live down there. Where on earth would I put my vegetable patch?

The nearest thing we have to any kind of wilderness is the Welsh mountains. It rains a lot in Wales, so at least we should be okay for drinking water. And there are plenty of sheep too, so it looks like roast lamb for dinner every night, and lamb sandwiches for lunch.

FIVE

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Assuming we get to a perfectly isolated spot in Wales, and that I manage to build us a new, fortified home without killing myself, the next major problem in the way of our survival will, of course, be Thing One and Thing Two. I just cannot see how they will cope without Minecraft, Netflix, and Youtube.

Actually, coping without Netflix is going to be a struggle for me too, but in those first few months I’ll be too busy learning new DIY skills and working out how to prolong my stash of Snickers bars without rationing myself too much, to notice an absence of Netflix in my life. But the kids? Oh boy, they’re going to suffer.

And when they’re suffering, they tend to make sure that me and Mrs Preston suffer too.

SIX

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I suppose that we should get to the part where we actually have to deal with some zombies. As we’re living in the wilds of North Wales, I’m thinking there won’t be many zombies around anyway, but the ones that there are will have been hikers and ramblers when they were alive so unfortunately they will probably be pretty hardy and good at navigating.

It looks like I’m going to have to do some fighting. The first thing I need to do is find myself a machete. That’s not going to be easy. I’m kind of wishing I’d bought that signed Samurai Sword off David Carradine when I met him at ComicCon several years ago.

Failing that, I suppose I will have to make do with a nail studded cricket bat. And, I will get to use my new DIY skills by hammering nails into the cricket bat.

Exciting!

There you go, my top six tips for surviving a zombie apocalypse. What do you think my chances of survival are?

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TV and Movie Series That Refused to Die, but Should Have.

Sometimes when I make a list for one of these blog posts, I start to struggle as I reach the end. Sometimes I might make it a list of five because I know I don’t have enough items to get to ten.

But a list of TV and film series that refused to die and staggered on for far too long?

I was spoilt for choice.

I got to thinking about this because I was mulling over the problem of how far to take the Joe Coffin books. We’re up to Season Four so far, and there will definitely be a Five and a Six, but after that? I’m not sure.

I’d love to carry on and write more. But I don’t want the Joe Coffin books to fade away into a tepid quagmire of stupid plots and boring characters.

I’d rather finish with a bang.

Or even a fang.

Anyway, those are thoughts for another day.

Here are my own personal list of top ten TV and film series that should have quit while they were ahead, in reverse order. (Ooh, the excitement!)

 

10. The Amityville Horror

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I haven’t seen any of the sequels. Not one. But I decided to put this film series on the list after learning that there are twenty-three films in the Amityville franchise.

Twenty-three!!

I suppose there must be money in there somewhere, and at least one of them gave poor Eric Roberts a job for a day or two, but really?

Let’s move on.

 

9. Star Wars

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Something else that got me thinking about franchises that go on for too long was a conversation with a friend the other day about Star Wars, and he said, “It’s a shame that there are more Star Wars films that I don’t like than ones that I do.”

Oh dear, Star Wars.

How many of us who were devoted fans of the original trilogy suffered that light sabre through the chest upon seeing The Phantom Menace? I remember ranting in the back of my friend’s car as we drove home, and I remember still ranting sitting in bed next to my wife.

Poor Mrs Preston. She puts up with a lot, you know.

It was as though George Lucas had made some sort of perverse decision to alienate all his fanbase. And then, to make sure we got the message, he brought out two more spiteful hate letters to the original trilogy. Films whose titles I can’t even remember right now, and certainly can’t be bothered to look up on Google.

Damn it, I’ve started ranting again.

I feel like I’m stuck in an episode of Spaced.

 

8. Robocop.

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The first Robocop movie is perfect. A great cast, Peter Weller, Nancy Allen, Ronny Cox and Kurtwood Smith in particular, a grungy, violent story along with comic book visuals and one truly awful scene of violence which actually matters for once, Robocop should have finished with that grin from Peter Weller as he rediscovers his identity.

But no. There were two sequels, a live action TV series and an animated one, and a remake. And now there are plans for a sequel to the original film. Wouldn’t it be great if they got Peter Weller and Nancy Allen back? An older, even more battle scarred Robocop.

Anyway, they should have finished with the first one.

 

7. The Terminator.

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Again, another perfect first film. Arnold Schwarzenegger, Linda Hamilton, Michael Biehn, Lance Henriksen, and of course (yes!) Dick Miller. The Terminator is one of those films I was able to watch over and over, and never grow bored. Even the the time travel plot seemed to make sense, for once. My experience was slightly spoilt at one viewing, in Amsterdam where the audience laughed their heads off when Sarah Connor and Kyle Reese make love.

Fantastic pacing, brilliant visual effects, amazing action and what about some of those lines of dialogue? My favourite is Kyle Reese’s line: ‘It can’t be bargained with. It can’t be reasoned with. It doesn’t feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead.’

But then Arnie had to go and say, ‘I’ll be back.’

And it was funny.

We just didn’t realise how literal he was being.

Five sequels and two TV series later, isn’t it time to just give up? To be fair, Judgement Day was good, although I could have done without the thumbs up from Arnie at the end.

But I haven’t seen any of the others.

Life’s too short.

 

6. The Hobbit

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Three huge movies to tell the story of one not particularly long or complicated book?

Seriously?

 

5. Dexter.

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I loved Dexter. You probably did too.

I loved the man, I loved the TV series, I loved his sister and his girlfriend and his dad.

And then they went and ruined everything with that final series.

It had started to go downhill before then of course, and I started losing interest after the Season Four finale. But I kept going, enjoying seeing Peter Weller turn up in Season Five in particular. Season Eight was a form of torture to be honest, but I’d gone too far to stop without seeing it through to the end.

I shouldn’t have. That final episode, that final shot. What a cop out.

 

4. Indiana Jones

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I struggled with the idea of putting the Indiana Jones films in this list.

Obviously the first three films are great. Even The Temple of Doom.

Classics, each and every one of them.

And then we arrive at The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Like its title, this fourth instalment in the series is a little awkward. A little, oh I don’t know, unsure of itself? And it’s the one with the biggest identity crisis. Harrison Ford is obviously growing a little too old for these shenanigans, so we get his son to tag along for the adventure too. Which is a good idea, and another riff on the idea of father/son relationships played out so well in The Last Crusade with Sean Connery as Indie’s father.

But then they had to go and spoil it all by having Shia LaBeouf play Indie’s son.

Also, the film doesn’t know whether it wants to be a modern CGI fest or a hark back to the original trilogy with physical effects. You can kind of feel the tension throughout between producer George Lucas and director Steven Spielberg.

But I have an admission to make here.

I kind of like The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.

And I’m looking forward to number five.

But still, there’s a strong case to be made that they should have finished the series with The Last Crusade.

 

3. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre.

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If I had to choose one film on this list that should have been left alone, left to stand by itself, it may well be this one. A no budget shocker that exploded out of nowhere in a shower of guts and gore, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre had a raw, edgy, violent quality that had no equal at the time. This film presented a particular problem to the BBFC of the 1970s as much of its violence was implied, and so proved difficult to trim down to an acceptable version.

In the end it was banned.

Tobe Hooper, Hollywood, you should have left Leatherface and his family alone. But no, first up was Tobe Hooper’s 1986 comedy sequel with Dennis Hopper. I tried watching it once. I didn’t get very far. I skipped ahead to the end.

So far we are up to seven sequels and remakes. One of them in 3D.

Hollywood, you just don’t know when to leave well enough alone.

 

2. The Walking Dead

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What a zombie gut punch that first series was. And then that zombie pulled your guts out and ate them in front of you. Wow, that first season. Amazing.

And then came the second season where they camped out on a farm for the entire running time.

Actually, I know Season Two gets a bad rap, but I enjoyed it.

Then we got the fourth season in the prison and the introduction of the Governor. I don’t now, maybe I get bored easily, but I started going off the Walking Dead at this point. Everyone raved about the Governor but I really didn’t think much of him.

We’re about up to Season Ten now, and there are three films scheduled for production.

Perhaps I’m just being grumpy, but it all seems a bit much to me.

 

1. Jaws

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You knew we were going to finish here, didn’t you?

My all-time favourite film, the best film ever made, and what did they do?

Ruined it with three sequels.

At least they stopped at film number four, Jaws the Revenge. As dreadful as that film is, I’m guessing it still could have got a lot worse.

Roy Scheider (for contractual reasons only) returned for the first sequel, which isn’t too bad. Thankfully he was able to avoid the embarrassment of Jaws 3D, but features in edited footage from Jaws in the final film. I hope he got paid.

I suppose it might still be possible that there will be more sequels, or even (NOOOOOO!!!!) a remake.

Let’s hope not.

 

There you go, my list of films and TV series that should not have gone on for as long as they did.

Agree?

Disagree?

And what about Joe Coffin? How many books do you think there should be?

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PIF

No, I haven’t just invented a new insult, or swearword. Although I suppose it might work. Perhaps I should try it out, the next time I’m annoyed, or I want to get rid of someone.

“Oi you! PIF off, you piffing piffer.”

Hmm, maybe not.

PIF is an acronym for Public Information Film, and if you’re a child of the 1970s and you spent your school summer holidays splayed in front of the television all day, then you will have seen plenty of these and you probably have fond memories of them.

Ah yes, school summer holidays in the UK was all about the television. We had the Banana Splits, Tarzan, White Horses, Scooby Doo and any other cheap programming that the BBC and ITV could find to fill up the schedules for bored children. Strangely, the children’s entertainment would finish at noon and be replaced by episodes of Crossroads and Crown Court. It was as if the programmers assumed us kids would all be bored witless by this point, and would actually get off our arses and go outside to play.

Which is perhaps one reason why the schedules were always so full of Public Information Films.

PIFs came in many varieties, all warning of the various dangers that awaited us as soon as we set foot outside of the front door. Or the back door in our case. We were one of those families that used the back door as the main exit and entrance in our house. If anyone came and knocked on our front door we often had a devil of a job finding the key for it, and would usually wind up shouting through the letterbox, ‘Come round to the back door!’

Those school summer holidays seemed to last forever. Endless days of sunshine, boredom and Public Information Films.

You have to remember, this was in a time before  we had the choice of a gazillion channels, streaming, computer games and the internet. I’d love to be a kid on school summer holidays now. When I was young we had three channels to choose from, and I’m pretty sure BBC2 didn’t start broadcasting until later in the afternoon. And the regular scheduling was often interrupted by the Public Information Films.

They had their own attractions though. Especially for someone of a darker emotional makeup like myself.

Let’s take a look at Lonely Water first. Featuring Donald Pleasence as the Spirit of Lonely Water, this mini horror film is only saved from being utterly bleak by having an ending where the children win against the spirit, although in this pre-Terminator short film he does promise, ‘I’ll be back!’

In this short film about the dangers of messing about with fireworks there might not be a sinister spirit looking to cause some deathly mischief, but there is a sense of Wicker Man style horror with motionless children gathered in a field, a bonfire, a haunting flute melody and a sudden reveal of the horror in the final shot. I’m surprised I could sleep at night, especially if I had seen this on the same day as Lonely Water, although that was probably unlikely as the two were aimed at perilous activities undertaken in different parts of the year.

Now I happen to have a soft spot for this particular short film. I mean, it all starts off so happily, with that cheerful music and the woman busy cleaning her house and looking so … happy. Except, this is a PIF, so we know things are not going to end well. And when we get that almost subliminal shot of the huge mantrap waiting for its next unsuspecting victim, well…

And I can’t help but think the narrator sounds a little smug at the end.

So far we’ve had several drownings, a blinding due to fireworks and a new dad slipping and falling on a polished floor. His fate remains unknown, but from the shocked faces of his wife and mother (or mother-in-law, and nope, no Les Dawson style jokes from me here) it looks pretty bad. Let’s ramp it up a notch, shall we?

How about death by electrocution?

Or how about a very Hitchcockian countdown to a tragic accident?

Then of course there is that 70s favourite threat from abroad: Rabies. This is a short horror of almost Cronenbergian proportions.

And finally, there is this triptych of horror known as The Blunders. Mixing comedy with horror, these three short films go all the way with their graphic portrayal of heads smashing through car windscreens. Perhaps these three short films could have done with a little more blood, but they were shown during the day, well before the watershed.

Let’s finish on a lighter note, shall we? Here are the mighty Morecambe and Wise talking about the dangers of drink driving.

https://player.bfi.org.uk/free/film/watch-morecambe-and-wise-be-wise-dont-drink-and-drive-1963-online

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Is Horror Irrelevant?

Are horror movies and books irrelevant these days?

I’m asking for a friend.

Well, no, not really. I’m asking for me.

A strange question, I know, coming from somebody who is making a living on writing horror. But it’s a serious question.

The reason I’m asking is: I can’t help but wonder what books or movies are actually scary these days.

I recently watched Get Out, and found it to be very creepy and unsettling. So (naturally) I showed it to Thing One, 15 years old, and at the end of the film I asked him, “What did you think to that?”

To which he replied, “Yeah, it was good.”

“Did it scare you at all?” I said.

“No, not really,” he replied, with a teenager’s shrug of indifference.

Now, I can still remember the day I left him in the cellar as a toddler watching SpongeBob Squarepants, and when I went down to check he was okay, I found him staring silently at the TV while big fat tears rolled down his cheeks. It was the episode with the bully, and Thing One was terrified.

Then there was the situation with The Walking Dead a few years later, but we’re not going there, Mrs Preston still hasn’t forgiven me.

And, of course, I showed him Jaws when he was nine, and he almost stopped watching the film after Hooper nearly poops himself underwater when Ben Gardner’s head pops out of the boat.

But now?

He loves films, and will happily watch anything I suggest, but is he ever scared?

Nah.

And I think that is probably the case for a lot of us these days. We’re inundated with violent entertainment, not just in films and books but computer games too. Does anybody actually get scared anymore? Do people still faint at horror movies, as was the case (allegedly) with The Exorcist? Does no one run out of the cinema theatre to throw up and then run back in to carry on watching the film?

We’re all so worldly wise now. We’re all so sophisticated in our knowledge of how films are made. And if a film has a ton of digital effects, it becomes even less believable. Unless it’s done well, of course.

But what about books? When was the last time a book seriously creeped you out? Gave you goosebumps on your goosebumps?

It takes a skillful writer to pull off something like that.

And I’m just not sure it happens anymore.

But I’m willing to be proved wrong.

Let me know in the comments what film or book last creeped you out.

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That’s just your opinion, man

When I was a lot younger, back when dinosaurs ruled the earth and living in the moment consisted of running for your life, I used to go to the cinema quite a lot. Often I would simply pick a film that looked interesting, without knowing very much about it. I’m sure I must have seen some turkeys, but I can’t remember now.

Oh yes, there was The Exterminator 2, which was pretty dreadful. Robert Ginty was the star, but he spent the majority of the film behind a welder’s mask so it could have been anybody playing the part.

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And this was how I wound up introducing myself to films of Lucio Fulci; I saw The Beyond on a double bill with The House by the Cemetery at the Tivoli, in Birmingham. The Tivoli had two screens and played horror films on one and porn movies on the other, and that was it. The Tivoli closed and is now The Electric, and plays mainstream films along with more art-house type offerings.

Having said that, the early days of the Electric could be a hit and miss affair. I once turned up for a screening of a film I was desperate to see (can’t remember what now) only to arrive and find a crowd outside the cinema doors, being addressed by the manager. It turned out that the projectionist had gone on a pub crawl and the manager had sent a member of staff to search the city centre pubs.

They never found him, and the film never got shown.

But it’s not the Tivoli or the Electric I wanted to talk to you about.

It’s the Coen brothers.

I saw their debut film, Blood Simple, at a cinema in Birmingham long since closed. It’s still there, underground and deserted. A reporter for the Birmingham Mail had the opportunity for a look round a few years back, and took photographs. I can’t believe it’s still there all this time later.

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Anyway, this is where I went to see Blood Simple, on the tiniest cinema screen I have ever come across, on a double bill with a cockroach movie I can’t remember the name of. I’d never heard of the Coen brothers, nobody had, but Blood Simple was getting some rave reviews.

I don’t think there were very many people in the cinema (unlike the showing for The Beyond at the Tivoli, which was packed) but I do remember the ratcheting tension and the atmosphere. Honestly, I had never seen anything like this before.

A few years later I watched their second film, Raising Arizona, not at the cinema this time but on VHS. And I was confused.

I was confused by Nicholas Cage. This might have been the first time I had seen him act. I remember being aware of him before that. Specifically in Birdy, which had been on my radar for two reasons.

One, Peter Gabriel had recorded the music for the soundtrack, and I was a huge Peter Gabriel fan. And two, I was fascinated by Matthew Modine. Looking back now, at my teenage self, I think maybe I had a crush on him. Is it all right to say that? Of course it is. I wouldn’t have said that at the time. Growing up in a working class town in the North of England wasn’t the place to be self-identifying as anything other than straight.

Back to the Coens. Millers Crossing was next, in the cinema again, back to the noir storytelling of Blood Simple, but with the crazy humour of Raising Arizona. And now I was recognising the enormous talent on display from these two brothers, and the fact that they weren’t going to be pigeonholed.

Except…

Nothing could prepare me for The Big Lebowski.

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That’s the reason I’m talking about the Coen brothers today. Earlier this year I showed The Big Lebowski to Thing One and he loved it. Thing Two, who was twelve years old then, was away at a magicians’ conference at the time (I’m not making this up) and so I thought it would be perfect time to let Thing One watch it. He’s fifteen, but I felt comfortable letting him watch it, despite it being an 18 certificate.

But not Thing Two.

Of course this all backfired as soon as Thing Two arrive home a few days later and found out what had happened. He then spent months pestering me to let him watch it, (using the logic that a: it wasn’t fair to let Thing One see it and not him, and b: he already knew all the swear words and all about sex so I shouldn’t stop him from seeing it just because it contained strong language and strong sex references) and I finally gave in last night. Thing Two joined us for a repeat viewing.

I was a little worried about watching The Big Lebowski again so soon after seeing it last. I don’t want to grow so familiar with it that I grow weary of its presence in my life.

But I needn’t have worried at all. I grinned, I laughed and I felt all warm and fuzzy like I always do when I watch it. And, last night, I spotted a cameo by Sam Raimi which I had never noticed before.

You all know me, you know my favourite film is Jaws and always will be.

But The Big Lebowski is a very close second.

The problem is though, there are some Coen brothers films I just cannot watch. The Hudsucker Proxy completely defeated me, and I had to give up watching. Why? I don’t know. I seem to remember finding it utterly incomprehensible. I should give it another try. Then there is The Man Who Wasn’t There. The Coen brothers, Billy-Bob Thornton, a noir in black and white? All seemed like a perfect recipe for a perfect movie.

I fell asleep.

But then getting into a conversation about this on Facebook with Robert Shearman, I found out that he doesn’t get on with The Big Lebowski, but loves The Man Who Wasn’t There.

We at least agreed that Miller’s Crossing is great.

I feel like I need to revisit every film that Joel and Ethan Coen have made.

Just to make sure I ‘got’ them the first time round.

I’ll report back.

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#nwc19

It’s been a busy week.

I usually like to write my blog posts a couple of days in advance and then schedule them for Sunday afternoon. But here it is, Sunday morning, and I’m only just typing these introductory sentences. When this happens I usually find myself gripped by panic, certain that this will be the day I fail to post on my blog. And it does happen from time to time. In two years of blogging though, every Sunday, I think I have maybe missed three Sundays.

That’s not too bad.

This Sunday I am not gripped by panic. Today feels right to be writing my blog, because there’s only one thing I want to talk about, and that is the National Writers Conference, which happened yesterday.

I go every year.

And I love it.

You should come along too.

There are lots of reasons why I love the National Writers Conference, but here is a good one to start with: It’s held in Birmingham, not London.

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Let me repeat that sentence.

The National Writers Conference is held in Birmingham, NOT London.

For those of you who live in less capital city centric countries than the UK, this statement might not mean so much, but honestly, this is a big deal.

Amongst us writers, anyway.

As always there were lots of excellent panels, with advice and information on (and these were just the ones I went to): How Publishing Works, Resilience For Writers, and Getting Your Work Heard.

There were also two keynote addresses, one at the start from Mandy Ross, poet and children’s writer, amongst other things. I particularly liked her emphasis on collaboration with artists from disciplines other than writing, and sometimes doing the work for the sake of it, rather than for payment (important though that is).

The final keynote address from Kit de Waal about working class writers and their under representation amongst the big five publishers (and under representation of BAME and LGBTQ writers too) was passionate, balanced, realistic and hopeful.

All excellent as usual, but for me the greatest value from the National Writers Conference comes from catching up with writing friends and making new ones. And it’s always a delight to see William Gallagher, Susan Stokes-Chapman, Emma Boniwell, Jonathan Davidson, George Bastow and plenty of other people too.

At the end of every Writers Conference we have the Spark Young Writers Awards, certificates of achievement for young writers who attend the Spark Young Writers groups held across the West Midlands. It was my pleasure this year to present certificates, as well as give a ten minute inspiring speech.

Yikes!

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Me, standing up on that stage in the Bramall Music building at the University of Birmingham.

Nerve wracking stuff, but I have to say I enjoyed myself.

Not sure about my audience, but I got some laughs (intended) and a round of applause at the end, so I’m guessing they enjoyed themselves too.

We also launched the Read On anthology, After Summer, in which I have a story written with the involvement of a group of students from Redhill Secondary School. This is the English translation of a collaborative project involving France, Italy, Norway and the UK and organised by the Read On EU initiative, designed to encourage young people to read and write creatively.

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So yes, a good day.

And all this on the back of a busy few weeks in which I received an acceptance from publisher DC Thompson for a new pocket novel, wrote lots and lots of words, ran my usual creative writing clubs, had a four page article published in Writing Magazine, and ran the Blakedown Bolt, a 10k cross country run, the night before the conference.

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So yes, I’m exhausted.

I’m spending the day unwinding a little today, and then back to it tomorrow.

Because I love what I do.

The post #nwc19 appeared first on Ken Preston.

Looking For Walter Newhouse

I grew up reading comics.

That is to say, I started reading comics obsessively from about the age of nine, and sort of petered out about the age of thirty.

Maybe it took me longer than most to grow up.

Probably.

Anyway, the speed, or lack, of my emotional and mental maturity is not up for discussion. And I still read comics today, just not as much as I used to.

So maybe I haven’t grown up after all.

Look, I know, this is my regular Sunday afternoon blog post, and you do expect some semblance of sense from me, but here I am warbling on about my comic reading habit.

I’ll start again.

I grew up reading comics, Marvel mainly.

And one of the things Marvel did really well (and what they are doing really well in the movies at the moment) is use crossovers to build a big, interconnected universe. And I love that kind of storytelling.

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I always got a kick out of seeing Spider-Man visit the Avengers or the Fantastic Four, or Nick Fury visiting England to catch up with Captain Britain. And when you had two rival comics companies arrange a crossover, wow, that was something special!

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Unfortunately, with Marvel anyway, the crossover thing started to get a little silly. At one point there were so many Spider-Man titles out it was difficult to keep track of them. And when one storyline got threaded through each of the titles, it started becoming expensive too.

I remember reading The Clone Saga as it unfolded, and didn’t that get a little weird? And tied up in knots.

Is the Scarlet Spider still with us? Anyone know?

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Despite how silly some of these stories became, I still love a good crossover when it enhances the fictional world in which you are immersed.

In my last post I talked about back story, and how I have been digging into Joe Coffin’s past.

The story I discovered, even though it is set just before Joe’s birth in 1970, still has echoes in the present. Particularly Joe Coffin Season Two. It’s not exactly a crossover story, but it sort of is. The great thing about this story is, it stands on its own. But if you happen to be a Joe Coffin fan who has read all the books, there’s that extra layer of enjoyment for you.

I had fun writing it, especially tying the plot elements in with the main story. If you’re a Joe Coffin fan, I think you will love this short story.

And that’s why I am offering it to you for the next couple of days at the bargain price of 99p/99c.

Is suppose you want a blurb, or something, don’t you?

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Looking For Walter Newhouse
Everyone’s looking for Walter, and if he isn’t found soon, someone’s going to pay. With their blood.

Ray Pierce is a down on his luck boxer, taking dives for money and trying to stay out of trouble. Unfortunately for Ray, trouble’s always just around the corner.

Ray never meant to take Walter Newhouse’s wife Cora to bed, but that’s what happened, and now Walter’s gone missing and Cora wants Ray to find him.

It turns out, Ray’s not the only one looking for Walter Newhouse, and when you put The Slaughterhouse Mob, Danny ‘The Butcher’ Hanrahan, an ex-wrestler by the name of Johnny Thunderbolt, and a witch into the mix, Ray Pierce’s day starts to get a little more complicated.

And deadly.

And if that has piqued your interest, here are the links to your favourite book stores where you can buy Looking For Walter Newhouse at the knock down price of 0.99c/0.99p.

AMAZON
KOBO
EVERYWHERE ELSE

The post Looking For Walter Newhouse appeared first on Ken Preston.

Digging Up The Back Story

Novels are strange, wonderful things.

Pick up a book right now and take a look at it. What do you see?

I see sheets of paper glued together down one edge, and each one of these sheets of paper has squiggly black markings running horizontally in lines across the pages and ordered into groups. And our eyes run over these black squiggles and our brain deciphers them into words and sentences and, ultimately, a story.

Doesn’t sound very exciting, does it?

And yet novels can move us to tears, make us angry, feel tension, fear, induce uncontrolled laughter in public spaces, and much more.

This is why I think books are magical, that we are tapping into something beyond our understanding when we read, and are moved by, a good book.

And yet, here’s a thing, when we read and fall in love with a book, and the people within that story, we are only seeing the tip of the iceberg. There’s a whole mass of undiscovered back story and character history lurking beneath the surface.

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I know of some authors who try and map this material. Before they even write a single word of narrative they will have drawn up character profiles, diving deep into each person’s history and documenting that history, even though most of it will not appear in the finished story. Similarly these authors will map out their worlds, and research real historical details, maybe change it to fit their stories, and again most of this will not make the finished book.

But it will shape it.

As a reader I’m, usually, not that interested in the back story of a novel except where I need it to enrich the reading experience.

And as an author I don’t go in for that kind of detailed history, the kind that will never make it to the finished book. I mostly write by the seat of my pants, discovering my characters as I take them through the story. By seeing how they react to certain situations, how they deal with problems, I discover who they are.

I write books for the same reason I read them: to find out what happens next.

Except…

I’m up to Season Four of the Joe Coffin books, and I’m starting to wonder about those hidden depths. And my mind has started chipping away, like an archaeologist digging for more information.

A couple of months ago I set myself a challenge, and asked my newsletter subscribers to send me an opening line to a story and I would write it. I chose the one that most intrigued me and then, to my surprise, I found myself writing a Joe Coffin story.

Or, to be more precise, a Joe Coffin back story.

A story that is set before Joe is even born, but fills in some gaps, reveals a little more of that huge archaeological prize I am digging out of the ground.

The kind of story that will delight Joe Coffin fans, the ones who have read all four seasons, that will have them going ‘Ah, okay!” and ‘Yes!’ whilst fist-pumping the air.

Seriously, it will.

How do I know this?

Because those were my reactions as I wrote the story.

I’m going to be unleashing it into the wild very soon.

Keep an eye out for more details.

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As always, I’m putting a donate button here for you. I write and publish these blog posts for free, and I keep them up forever so that anyone can go back and read any of them whenever.

If you’d like to donate the cost of a cup of coffee (strong and black please, no sugar) I will be forever grateful.

But whatever you do, thank you for reading anyway.

 

The post Digging Up The Back Story appeared first on Ken Preston.

What I Get Up To

Today I thought I would tell you a little about what I get up to in my day to day job.

The thing is, an author’s life can be pretty boring sometimes.

You sit at a desk all day long and type.

And that’s it.

That would make for a very boring blog post too.

Fortunately, I get to do more than that.

It’s up to you to decide whether or not it’s actually interesting.

This is my bedside cabinet.

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The alarm clock goes off at 6:00 am. Sometimes I set it for 5:30 am, depending on how much I’ve got to get done and how urgent it is. You might think that half an hour doesn’t make much difference to my day, but believe me it does. The space/time continuum works differently so early in the morning. Honestly, with that extra half an hour behind me, once I get to lunchtime I feel like I’ve achieved a whole day’s work and more.

I’ve toyed with the idea of getting up even earlier to see how much more I could achieve. Imagine if I got out of bed at 4:00 am, by the time lunchtime rolled around would I have achieved a full week’s worth of work? Unfortunately, to do that I would have to go to bed at 8:00 pm, which is ridiculous. I’d be in bed hours before Thing One and Thing Two, and Mrs Preston would complain that she never gets to see me anymore.

Anyway, up at 6:00 am and the very first order of the day is to feed Lily. I know what you’re thinking. Aww, how cute that he puts Lily first.

Nope, this is purely for practical reasons. The cat wouldn’t let me get anything done until I had fed her.

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This is Lily, having been fed her breakfast she is now getting on with the hard work of sleeping for the rest of the day. This is one of her favourite spots, in between the settee and a portable radiator, down in the cellar. She usually wakes up mid-afternoon and demands to be fed again.

Anyway, on with my day. Next, it’s a strong, black coffee and toast for me and downstairs to the writing cave.

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Now, here comes my first confession.

I didn’t always used to start writing at this point. That was and is always the intention. But it didn’t always happen.

Why not?

Well, there was this:

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And this:

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Let’s not forget this:

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Sometimes there was this:

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Sometimes there was even this:

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And on really bad days? Well, (hangs head in shame) there was this:

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I was like a drug addict trying to get clean.

And not doing very well.

On the bad days I was achieving little to nothing and then feeling wretched about it. Which forced me even deeper into a cycle of browsing on the internet.

But then I found Freedom, and now everything is good again.

George Michael Freedom GIF from Georgemichael GIFs

No, silly, not the George Michael song.

Freedom is an app that blocks the internet. Now I schedule it for 6:00 am to 12:00 noon. It’s bloody brilliant! There’s absolutely nothing I can do that will allow me access to the internet, and so I am free to just get on with what I should be doing anyway.

Writing.

At 7:15 am I stop writing to throw myself into the task of dragging Thing One and Thing Two out of bed. Whilst they get ready for school I run around the house in a wild panic, trying to get as many household tasks done as possible so that I can return to writing at 8:15, by which time a horde of Thing Two’s school mates who have slowly gathered in my living room are now leaving the house.

Peace and quiet again!

A second coffee, another bite to eat, and back to the writing cave.

I generally try and write until noon, but some days other things happen.

One Thursday a month I lead a creative writing workshop in my local town.

And some days I will have an event to attend or lead.

For example, a couple of weeks ago I participated in a taster event at Newman College for their creative writing course. Along with thriller writer Liam Brown and poet Brenda Read-Brown, I ran a mini creative writing workshop with three groups of year 10 students from local schools. The three writers rotated around the three groups and then we gathered together in the lecture hall and a few of the students read out their work.

One young lad in my group wrote a nasty short about cannibalism, and finished with the line:

I decided not to eat his head as it will make a nice centrepiece for the staff Christmas party.

Excellent!

I love events like this. They are terrifying to start with, but when they are over with I’m usually flying, and I feel like I can conquer the world.

On to the afternoons then.

By this point in the day the creative well has often run dry. I need to step back from writing creatively and look at the less creative sides of what I do.

And this is where the days of the week take on their own identity.

Monday afternoons I will be answering emails, editing, tinkering with my websites and planning the first of my after school creative writing clubs which runs on Tuesday.

Tuesday afternoon is similar, and I will try and plan my second after school club, running on Wednesday. Then, at 5:30, it’s time to enter the dragon’s lair.

Yes, it’s my primary school creative writing club, working with the completely bonkers, twisted minds of children aged between 9 – 11.

These kids love their gruesome stories, their gore and toilet humour. The literary world is in for a shock in a few year’s time, I can tell you.

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By the time 7:00 o’clock has rolled around and the club has finished, well, I’m good for nothing else for the rest of the evening.

Teachers of the world, I salute you.

You are superheroes.

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Wednesday afternoon I finish off preparing for the secondary school club, which starts at 3:30. This is even more of a wild ride as I have a brilliant young man with autism who writes the most incredibly blood-soaked, gruesome and wild, imaginative and completely out there stories. The other members of the club are great too, and we have some fantastic sharing sessions when it comes to reading out the work.

Both of these creative writing clubs are challenging for me, especially as I have to keep coming up with fresh session plans week after week. Believe me, they soon let me know if they’ve done something before!

But I love it.

I love engaging these kids, I love seeing them step beyond what they think they can do. It’s the best feeling in the world.

Thursday and Friday afternoon I am back at home, and I try and achieve more editing, planning and the dreaded accounts.

Then it is a case of cooking the evening meal, (oh yes, I forgot to mention that Thing One and Thing Two have arrived home by about 3:30, so I take a break to say hi and ask them about their day), and welcoming home Mrs Preston. I will get a little more work done in the evening whilst Thing One and Two are doing homework and then the entire family sits down to watch an episode of Agents of Shield, Stranger Things, or Gotham.

And that, apart from a couple more clubs I run on Saturdays, is my typical day and my typical week.

There are also the one-off events like school or book club visits to keep my life interesting.

And then there are the non-writing opportunities I’m thinking of trying.

Like applying to be a zombie at the annual Alton Towers Scarefest.

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Or posing for a life drawing class.

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Or what about being one of those living statues you see in city centres?

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So there you go, some of what my day is like and some of what I might like it to be.

What about your day? What do you get up to?

As always, I’m putting a donate button here for you. I write and publish these blog posts for free, and I keep them up forever so that anyone can go back and read any of them whenever.

If you’d like to donate the cost of a cup of coffee (strong and black please, no sugar) I will be forever grateful.

But whatever you do, thank you for reading anyway.

The post What I Get Up To appeared first on Ken Preston.