Dan Coxon's Blog, page 5

Scream! Scream!! Scream!!!

Twenty years ago, two friends and I decided to write, produce and direct a series of three short horror plays for Halloween. The trilogy was called Scream! Scream!! Scream!!!, and it enjoyed at least one rather lukewarm review. What was remarkable about it was the range of our ideas. One of the plays was a moody serial killer thriller, another was a sliver of weird horror straight out of the Twilight Zone, while the third was a bizarre slasher-pantomime that climaxed with the audience throwing Halloween candy at the blood-drenched actors. None of the plays had much in common, yet they all lurked beneath the Horror banner.
 
Fast forward twenty years, and Litro #138 has the same Horror theme. Of all the issues I've edited of the magazine, this is probably my favourite. In part that's due to the quality of the writing. We have a fantastically haunting tale by Toby Litt, a sliver of near-future horror from Richard Thomas, and a deeply disturbing story about toys from Adam Nevill - to name just a few. The writing is some of the best I've been involved with, and I'm proud to put my name to the issue as editor.

There was also a more personal connection, though. Editing and selecting this compendium of horrific tales took me back to that trilogy of plays in the early 90s. Just like then, the horror comes in many different shades. We have hauntings and mythological deities, mad scientists and weirdly creepy trips to the cinema; some will leave you subtly unnerved, others will have you cowering beneath your duvet.

October is turning into a truly horrific month. In addition to our Horror issue, I'm also taking part in SCARdiff - Cardiff's horror convention - on Sunday 19th, as part of a writers' pitching panel. Then I'll be reading from my story 'Among the Pines', as part of Listen Softly London, on Monday 27th - be prepared for some Lynchian weirdness at that one.

As for Scream! Scream!! Scream!!!, our horror-themed Halloween trilogy, I won’t be expecting a West End revival any time soon. It’s interesting to note, however, that one of my fellow playwrights, Tim Collins, is now the author of the Wimpy Vampireseries of children’s books. Sometimes the horror stays with you long after the screams have died away.

Live Events: October

These days, it's not unusual to see writers out and about in the real world, reading from their work, signing, and generally promoting what they do. It's become an inevitable part of the modern publishing deal. These 'tours' are usually tied to a book release - but I've decided to buck the trend, by having an unreasonably busy October without actually having a book to promote. Go figure.

Here are the events I'll be appearing at this month. Please drop by and say hello, buy me pint, give me some homemade knitwear, present me with figurines you'd made of me out of your own earwax, etc. All are welcome (except for the earwax sculptors... you can stay at home).

Thursday 16 October - Litro Book Club event w/ Marc Pastor
Shutterbug, 1 Rivington Place, London EC2A 3BA. Doors open 6.30pm.

Marc Pastor will be reading from Barcelona Shadows, after which I'll be interviewing him on the book and its themes. There will also be a chance for audience questions, and Marc will be signing copies once the discussion ends. The evening will also include live music and will close with a DJ set from Miguel Colectivo of Colectivo Futuro. Free and unticketed, but please RSVP here.

Sunday 19 October - Dragon's Pen Pitching Panel at SCARdiff 2014
Cardiff Masonic Hall, 12 noon.

Your chance to pitch to a panel of industry insiders at the Cardiff horror convention. I'll be joining Adam Nevill, Scott Harrison and Christopher Teague on the panel bench; you get to pitch your novel (or short story), and we'll give you the best feedback and advice we can offer. As the event takes place during SCARdiff 2014, you'll need a ticket to the convention - but at £6.66 it's a steal. See here for further details, and details of how to get into the Dragon's Pen.

Monday 27 October - Listen Softly London
The Crown, 108 Blackfriars Road, London, SE1 8HW. Doors open 7.30pm.

Listen Softly London is being taken over by mythical creatures this October, as Gary from Leeds brings his critically acclaimed show, Yeti, to the London stage. I'll be joining Gary as part of an evening of live readings and performances, reading from my weirdly Lynchian horror story 'Among the Pines'. The evening also includes readings by Litro contributors Reece Choules and Iain Robinson, and storyteller Ceri-May. See here for more details.

A Summer of Festivals

This blog has been silent for a few months. It's not due to my laziness (okay, not completely...), or to the lack of things to write about it. Instead, it's due to the fact that I've been out in the field for much of the summer.

In two fields, to be precise.

In July, Litro presented three live events as part of the Latitude Festival in Suffolk, and I was on-site for most of the festival, taking care of authors, making contacts, and generally pestering people around the Press Tent (especially those interns they placed by the fridge to guard the Happy Hour drinks). The festival as a whole was a slightly chaotic - and very damp - smorgasbord of music, arts and entertainment, featuring the likes of Damon Albarn, The Black Keys, The War on Drugs, First Aid Kit and Temples. There was more than enough to keep anyone entertained. As long as you managed to dodge the marauding hordes of teenagers intent on - well - moping about mostly.

As for Litro's events, we presented a wide range of authors, all discussing the hot topics of surveillance and privacy in the modern world. On the Friday we were joined by Luke Brown (My Biggest Lie) and James Miller (Sunshine State, Lost Boys), who regaled the audience with stories of horny geriatrics and literary shindigs. The Saturday event was hosted by acclaimed, respected, and always very well turned out journalist Anita Sethi, in discussion with Patrick Flanery (Absolution, Fallen Land) and Kate Williams (The Storms of War, Josephine). Then on the final day I took to the stage (slightly damp, suitably dishevelled) to chat with actor and biographer Ian Kelly (Mr Foote's Other Leg, Casanova) and debut novelist Ben Fergusson (The Spring of Kasper Meier), where we touched upon such subjects as the fall of the Berlin Wall and Regency-period buggery. No, really. (You can also read my interview with Ian Kelly here.)

You'd think the two huge storms that lashed down on Suffolk over the course of the weekend would have been enough to put me off festival life, at least until next year. But the following month I headed off once again, to a field in the Brecon Beacons for Green Man 2014. This time it was mainly for pleasure (no, really), but I did meet the erudite and hilarious Andy Miller on site, touring with his book The Year of Reading Dangerously . Quite apart from the fact that we have several friends in common (you know who you are), and the unlikely discovery that he shopped in the same record store as me in his teens, Andy proved to be a mine of information on the touring life, and music festivals in particular.

Which brings me on to my final point. Having endured more than a week this summer living out of a tent the size of a large box, and eating 'meals' from mud-stained napkins, you'd think that I'd have had enough of the festival life. But as it turns out, I quite like it. Even the thunderstorms. So... where to next year?

Lights, Camera, Words

Writing can be a lonely profession. Most of the time it's just you, a laptop, and enough coffee to power a small submarine. If you're really lucky you might have a pet - a cat, or a dog, or a houseplant - to mutter at while you work.

But occasionally writers are released into the community, at special events called Literary Festivals. When these come around we like to make the most of them, drinking far too much and partying until almost ten o'clock in the book tent. They're our chance to meet like-minded individuals, swap a few stories, make a few new contacts. Oh, and occasionally we read from our work.

Last weekend I took part in the fifth Stoke Newington Literary Festival, presenting three young authors at the Litro Live! event on Sunday evening. The temperature had risen throughout the day, and our venue felt like a sweatbox by the time we came on stage. We'd all been at the festival for two days straight, catching events with Thurston Moore, Joanne Harris, Mark Billingham, Barry Miles, Daniel Rachel and many, many more - our turn came just as last orders was being called on Stokey 2014.

But we still enjoyed ourselves. Our three authors - Rebecca Swirsky, Reece Choules and Maia Jenkins - read from their works-in-progress, entertaining the slightly sweaty crowd with stories of travelling communities, struggling relationships and faraway places. They entertained and enthralled us, weaving complex webs with their words that proved impossible to escape. It was easy to see why the three of them were selected as our most exciting emerging writers.

Me, stroking my chin. In Stoke Newington.
As for me, I managed to bring the tone down with jokes about Mark Wahlberg. But even I went home with a smile on my face, only slightly tempered by the utter exhaustion that awaited me on the train.

Sometimes being a writer means shutting yourself away, escaping every distraction as you focus solely on the words on the page. But sometimes - just sometimes - even writers like to feel a little of the limelight.

(Footnote: I was going to mention my latest publication here too, but somehow it didn't fit into today's rant. So here it is. I have a 75-word work of microfiction on the new Micro-fiction Monday Magazine website. In fact, it's the first story in their first issue, making it the very first thing they ever published. There's something to be proud of. It's called ' This is the Winter ', and it will take you less than a minute to read. No excuses.)

(Photo: David Green)

Buddy's Back...

So far 2014 has been a busy year. I've spent the last few months working my fingers to nubs as editor of Litro, and I'm pleased to say that it's bearing fruit. We have a fantastic new Augmented Reality issue due in a few weeks, as well as 'Somewhere Between the Borders' in June (introduced by bestselling travel writer Rory MacLean) and a Music issue in July (guest edited by Kele Okereke of Bloc Party). We have an event on 8 June at the Stoke Newington Literary Festival, and some very exciting news on the way about one of this year's major outdoor music festivals.

But that's not what this is about. This is about getting back to basics, spending some time with an old friend, and uncovering as many horrible cliches as I can about getting back on the horse. Litro has taken up so much of my time recently that my own writing has been slow in coming. I've been so busy editing everyone else that there's been very little time for my own work.

I'm glad to say the drought is over. My story 'Bud' has just appeared on the Monkeybicycle website, and it's a personal favourite of mine. Short, sweet and laced with vomit, it's a story about the lengths we'll go to to protect our families. Please read it. You'll love it. Even with the aftertaste of vomit.

For now, though, it's back to my editorial duties for a while. If you can make it along to the Litro Live! event on 8 June, please come and say hi. And if you've read the story I might even buy you a beer...

New Year, New News

Has anyone else noticed that advertising executives have been rolling out the same 'New Year, New You' campaigns every January for the last ten years? As slogans go, it's a strong one - but it started to tarnish when Justin Beiber was still in potty training. I guess even 'Creatives' put their feet up over the holiday season.

As it turns out, however, this New Year has heralded a new me. You may have seen the news in December that I've been appointed Editor of the London-based literary journal Litro , and my first issue of the magazine was released shortly before Christmas. It's a role that I'm already enjoying, even when my inbox is bubbling over with fiction submissions from overeager, hope-filled young writers. You can find my first issue of the magazine here, and consider subscribing to Litro to stay in touch with all the exciting developments we have planned for 2014.

The start of the year also brought a resurgence for some old material, too. We promoted my book Ka Mate: Travels in New Zealand heavily over Christmas, as ITV was airing the documentary River Deep, Mountain High: James Nesbitt's New Zealand (a production that I advised on) on Christmas Day. The result was that Ka Mate suddenly shot back up the Amazon charts, ending up at #2 on the New Zealand book bestseller list (only the Lonely Planet guide kept it off the top). Not bad for a book that's two years old.

Then there's my recently-published interview on the Neon website, in which I share my thoughts on horror movies, writing, and the endless trials of Center Parcs. Be interviewed by a London literary magazine? I guess I can tick that off my 2014 to-do list already.

Oh, and I have a beard now. In 2014, beards are cool.

New Year, New Me.

Trust Me, I'm The Doctor...

Forget any other news reports you may have seen this week. As we approach Saturday, 23 November, there's one news item that's slowly, insidiously taking over the public consciousness. Sure, it's the 50th anniversary of the assassination of John F. Kennedy... but it's also the anniversary of the very first episode of Doctor Who. You can't say you hadn't noticed.

Fifty years deserves to be a milestone of epic proportions for a TV show. Not only has Doctor Who been running for longer than most of its viewers have been alive, but it's gradually worked its way into British culture. Even those who don't know their 4th Doctor from their 8th can tell you what a Dalek looks like, or the Tardis. At some point Doctor Who stopped just being a TV show - it became an institution.

My essay Lost in Time and Space: Growing Old with Doctor Who (readable online at The Weeklings) looks at the programme's phenomenal history, and also revisits one of its classic episodes, 'Earthshock' - after which nothing was quite the same for me and my fellow Whovians. I still remember it thirty years later, so you know it's a classic.

I also wanted to keep something back for my blog readers, however. So, in true DVD Extra tradition, I present an outtake from the essay. This passage was excised in the interests of flow, and pacing, and focus - and lots of other writerly reasons. But I felt that it still needed a home somewhere. Enjoy.

‘Earthshock’ may have been my first encounter with the Cybermen, but there was already a deep well of stories to draw from. I had always been an avid reader, and as my obsession with Doctor Who grew, so the tie-in novelizations became my fix. They formed their own lo-fi form of time travel. It was between the pages of these books that I first encountered the Hartnell incarnation of The Doctor (grouchy, like an elderly relative spoiling your vacation), and the Troughton years (impish by contrast). In Doctor Who and the Cybermen I learned about their home planet MONDAS, and their millennia-long grudge against the human race as they drifted among the stars. I also plundered the Jon Pertwee novelizations, more Earthbound than his predecessors but no less enthralling for it. The original cover of Doctor Who and the Daemons still makes me shiver, with its imagery borrowed from horror classic Night of the Demon, and its unidentifiable air of menace.

When the show returned for each new season I was armed with new elements of Doctor Who lore, from his relationship with the Timelords of Gallifrey to the origins of the Dalek race. I may have come late to the party, but I was making up for lost time.

Read the full essay Lost in Time and Space here.

The Horror, The Horror...

I've never thought of myself as a horror writer. I've tried my hand at many genres over the years - crime, fantasy, science fiction - but never horror. Until now. There must be something about being a Dad that makes life just that little bit more scary.

In the last month I've had two new short stories published, in two different publications - and each is, in some way, a work of horror fiction. I've never been into supernatural tales, so you won't find any ghosts or ghouls. At least not the traditional kind. There aren't any witches either, or vampires, or werewolves. There aren't even any zombies.

'Suffer No More' appears in the inaugural issue of Hellfire Crossroads , a new magazine started by Trevor Denyer. Trevor gave me some of my earliest publishing credits with The Third Alternative back in the 90s, so it felt only right that I should repay the favour with a story for his latest project. Hellfire Crossroads advertises itself as "Horror with a Heart", and hopefully you'll agree that mine has that. It also gives an unsettling glance inside the mind of a serial killer, while making no effort whatsoever to apprehend him. Don't read it on the bus at night.

'Among the Pines', by contrast, appears in Neon #36, the latest issue of one of London's best small literary magazines. It has a very different feel to the other story, blending the traditional haunted cabin formula with David Lynch's unsettling surrealism - and an unlikely instance of time travel. It's like A Cabin in the Woods via Lost Highway and Back to the Future. If I reveal that I wrote it during a family holiday at Center Parcs, you hopefully won't find it any less scary.

Both publications are free to download (you can donate to either if you like them, and print copies of Neon are available for £2.50), so please read them and support your small presses. Just don't read them before you go to sleep...

Thanks, Son

It's been a while since I've posted anything new on here. Life got away from me once again, sapping both my energy and my time, pulling me into its relentless flow. I guess that's what being a Dad is all about.

It may come as a surprise to hear that I still occasionally find time to write, however. Maybe I can't clock up the word counts I used to pre-fatherhood, but I still know how to put pen on paper (or finger on iPad touchscreen, at least). That's why I decided to write a short piece for The Good Men Project's One Month of Thankfulness series. Because, at the end of the day, I find I'm still thankful for every tiny opportunity that comes my way.

You can read my piece here: ' A Month of Thankfulness: Jacob, My Son '. In it I'm thankful for beer, and for nights out, and for peace and quiet. And all the other things I struggle to find any more. Oh, and for Jacob. Thanks, son.

London, Litro and the Expat Experience

In the last six months my life has undergone a major upheaval. I've moved away from the Pacific Northwest and returned to England - specifically, the London suburbs where I grew up. The move generated hundreds of cardboard boxes (many of which are still clogging our garage), more than a few broken or missing items, and a general feeling of unease.

Luckily not everything associated with it was so negative. Since returning to London I have been appointed Non-Fiction Editor for literary website Litro.co.uk, a role that I'm already enjoying. Which brings me to my point: we need your essays. We're aiming to publish one non-fiction essay every Saturday, so we need a constant flow of high-quality writing. We're open to travel writing, memoir, personal essays, experimental non-fiction... If it's interesting and well-written, we'd love to take a look at it. The upper word limit is 2000 - but if it blows us away, we may forget that temporarily. You can submit your essays here. Please send us your best, and spread the word.

If you want an idea of what we like, check out the recent essays on our website. Or read my latest essay, In Transit , at The Nervous Breakdown. It's about a life spent travelling, the trials and tribulations of being an expat, and the curious feeling of returning home after twenty years. It's been a labour of love. Much of it was written on the road, or at least on my iPad. Sections were composed in Starbucks, and in our new home while the delivery team unpacked a lifetime of belongings around me. I think they stitched together pretty well. If they didn't, hopefully it only adds to the essay's impression of unease.

This is my essay. Hope you like it. Now, send me yours...