My other mother

Coraline by Neil Gaiman

Just finished reading this one. I enjoyed it although -- and I suppose this is the point with kid-lit -- I found it a little too short. I shall probably force it on my little cousins when I see them over Christmas, although it might be a little young for one of them now.

Actually, I just realised how stupid that comment was; I enjoyed it, and I'm 25.

Basically the story starts with Coraline and her family having just moved into a new house. One day when exploring her house she finds a doorway, that leads to another world; one that is strikingly similar to her own, but with subtle (and quite creepy) differences. When her parents get caught up in the world behind the door, Coraline has to rescue them and rescue herself. Coraline is curious, intelligent, and quiet . . . and instantly likeable.

Slap her she's a vampire

Blade Trinity

I was a bit sceptical about going to see this last night, because I was disappointed by Blade II. It had none of the style of Blade, and the fight scenes were pretty much under par[1].

Blade Trinity, then, is somewhat of a mixed bag. It's still not as stylish as Blade, but I find I don't care. The fight scenes are better, and the bad guys are slightly less ridiculous.

It seems they are running out of ideas with Blade -- we now have him taking on Dracula, father of the vampire race, so that's pretty much got to be the peak of his career. Future bad guys can't be any harder than Dracula without the series getting silly. So, they introduce us to the Nightstalkers who serve two roles. Firstly, they inject a much needed shot of humour and human emotion into the film. Secondly, they allow the producers to carry the franchise on without having to rely on Wesley Snipes not aging anymore. It works, as well. King is a much more interesting character than Abigail, but they're both welcome additions.

There are, of course, flaws. Dracula's back story is weak, and the other bad guys are generally free of personality. The plot-line involving the vampires trying to wage a PR war on Blade is stupid and, given the events at the end of the first act, pointless.

Overall though, an improvement, and a welcome one at that.

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[1]I laughed out loud at the end of Blade II, when Blade and the antagonist are fighting and they start throwing wrestling moves around. Imagine my surprise when I find out that WWE wrestler Triple H plays a vampire in this one. Three thoughts immediately go through my mind:

Thought the first: If he tries to pedigree Blade, I'm leaving.

Thought the second: How sad is it that I know what this feller's finishing move is?

Thought the third: How sad will I look if I make a joke about it in my blog tomorrow?

My warm house

The second of the Christmas parties is our house-warming. I spend the afternoon buying and putting up decorations (discovering that if you haven't got a tree, then you're pretty much reduced to having lots of tinsel), and Squonky spends the afternoon cooking and making mulled wine.

Only 15 minutes have passed when the first of the red wine is spilt onto the brand new carpet. Luckily it only happens the once.

All the guests are work people, except for associated boyfriends and girlfriends, and Squonky's ex-next-door neighbour.

Squonky cooks too much food, only about a quarter of it gets eaten. It's a shame because it's all pretty nice stuff.

We have to put a note on the bathroom door, warning people that it won't shut. Halfway through the evening I add a note saying that my flatmate is a sex-pest who 'forgets' to knock when he knows women are in there. For a wonder, it stays on the door all night.

The kitchen stinks of mulled wine the next morning. There's a purple stain on the living room carpet.

My book review

Master and Fool (the Book of Words, 3) by J.V. Jones

M&F is an improvement on the second book in the series, A Man Betrayed, because a lot of the annoying things that tripped up that middle installment are no longer present. Bodger and Grift stop dispensing pointless advice and actually do something; in fact, in this book they're integral characters[1]. Tavalisk stops eating stuff, and although he doesn't really do much in this book (again), there are interesting developments in his relationship with Gamil. Maybor's character is redeemed somewhat by his daughter's pregnancy, and even Mistress Greal makes a return en-route to a surprisingly satisfying character development. Tawl and Jack finally meet, and the relationship between these two grows quite nicely.

Plot-wise, it's everything you'd expect having read the first two books. Melliandra's in trouble, and the baker's boy and the knight join forces to save her. Of course, in order to save her they have to destroy an ancient evil and stop a war that will tear a continent apart. Jack is fated for a confrontation with the mad King Kylock, and Tawl with the corrupt head of his order of knights. The story moves along at a fair old pace, and so much happens in this installment that you can't help but feel satisfied.

Unfortunately, there are a few weak points that'll stop this going onto my list of favourites. The whole plot line of Jack finding out about his past feels forced in. Given that we've known nothing about him for the past thousand-or-so pages and not been left wanting, the revelations, when they come, are bewildering. The explanations a little too convenient and unbelievable. The actions of Jack's mother, and the identity of his father (which you probably will have guessed anyway) could have been left out and the book would probably have been stronger for it. There might have been a few unanswered questions, but the links to the underlining prophecy are so weak that the resolution you do get feels oddly false.

An enjoyable read, and probably worth a look, just not great.

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You could argue, I suppose, that they started becoming characters rather than novelties in AMB, but there was still too much 'Leaches are good for a man's libido' and not enough action for my liking.

My shock

"COLUMBUS, Ohio (CNN) -- A 25-year-old man stormed the stage at a heavy-metal rock concert Wednesday night, shooting and killing Damageplan guitarist "Dimebag" Darrell Abbott and three others before a police officer shot and killed him, Columbus police said."

Usually, when a public figure dies, it doesn't bother me. When it's a musician or writer or similar, however -- someone who's art was a huge part of my teenage years -- it knocks me back. When they're murdered, it's worse.

I wore out a copy of Vulgar Display of Power when I was 16/17. I saw Pantera in Manchester, when they were touring for the Reinventing the Steel album. They rocked; pure fucking metal. Hearing Walk on Radio 1 the over night -- I know, I couldn't believe it either -- reminded me how great that album was, and that I hadn't listened to it in too long a time.

I'm sad.

My magazine review

Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, Issue 15

A strong selection of stories this issue, so much so that I'm really struggling to pick a favourite. I've managed to narrow it down to five, but even that was a struggle: Dave Luckett's The Surly Bonds of Earth was moving despite being short and simple; Ian McHugh's The Alchemical Automaton Blues; A Calling On Song by Mark Rigney; Paul E Martens' Giving it up for the Seraphim; and Absolution by Barbara Robson. All really good.

Letter from the Editor by Allan Price disappointed me; primarily because it wasn't actually a story. A rejection letter, it wasn't all that amusing. I wondered -- I guess a little jealously -- how he managed to convince an editor to buy a rejection letter. My mind boggles.

Reality 2.0 was at least funny, but again not a story. Along the lines of that 'Girlfriend 2.1'-type email that circulated a few years back, it's not too original an idea, but it did try to take it in a more intelligent direction than the aforementioned email. However, I was confused as to its selection; If I want to read jokes, then I can just wait until Wes or Hels next sends one my way

My scrawny ass

Have been keeping up with my running this past couple of weeks. The steep hill's still killing me, but at least the weather has turned a bit milder.

And, whilst there is no writing news, there is at least progress. I have been steadily working on Harbourmancer (the story I have referred to in the past as my docker story). I'm still not 100% sure about the title, but at it's better than no title at all, and it's better than 'Docker'.

Still nothing to sub to the workshop, but as I have no internet access it's still not a problem.

My sober Christmas

The interesting thing about the first of the Christmas parties is that, for the first time in my life, I'm the designated driver. I've stayed sober on nights out before, of course, but never, strangely, because I had to. One of the benefits of not taking a driving test until you were 24, is that you never get called upon to do this. You can always drink. Of course, sometimes this means you can't get out in the first place, but there you go.

It's the Christmas lunch at 'arwell, the first of two work-related festivities. It rapidly becomes clear that McMunchkin is staying sober enough to drive. I could have had a pint, but decide that if I can't have more than one then I don't want any.

The meal is followed by a pub quiz. I clean up in the movie round and, because the average age at 'arwell is about 50, no one else does. Our team wins, and I take home a bottle of Cava.

I'm designated driver, so the bottle is saved for the next time.

My fellow workshoppers

Met up with members of the UKOWW mailing list this weekend.

Considering these are people that I've only ever spoken to online it actually went quite well. They came across like a decent enough group, and we all got along well enough.

Six of us turned up for the crit-session -- myself, David, Joe, John, Ursula, and Vicky. David did a stellar job of ogranising the event, with a meeting room booked, food organised for the afternoon, and a table booked at Pizza Express in the evening. Only three of us actually had any pieces to be critted (with David, Vicky, and myself being either lazy, ill-prepared, or scared), so the critting side was quite short, but it was good to be able to meet and get to know everyone.

I was very much the baby of the group, being five years younger than the next youngest writer. Kind of funny when I realised I've probably been at the workshop longer than any of them (albeit, much of the time has been spent lurking).

There's talk of organising more crit and social events, and expanding our activities online, so we'll have to see how that goes.

My presentation

As part of a training course last week I gave a short presentation on writing and my experiences in trying to sell my work. The topic would not normally have been my first choice, as I tend to bore people when I talk about it, but we had to talk about something we knew about and my other interests were all fairly well represented in the group. Represented by people who were more knowledgable than myself, I have no doubt. With writing, I was fairly confident that I could bullshit if I had to.

It went pretty well. Grudging as I am to admit it, the training guy's advice on presentation skills helped me quite a lot, and I almost enjoyed it.

By far the most surprising thing though was discovering that of my audience one person had written stories in the past, but didn't know what to do with them, and another had lots of ideas, but had never thought it was worth him putting them to paper. Both said that I gave them a few ideas about what to do next. It'll be nice to think I've encouraged them to write and submit. I've done all I can do (short of standing behind them singing 'Go Paul, Go Simon! Go Paul, Go Simon!'), but it would be nice if I saw their names in print somewhere down the line.

My novelty Christmas hat

Last night we took over ten lanes of the bowling alley in Swin for the annual work tournament.

Unfortunately, we picked an evening (and I have no idea whether this happens every evening) when they were doing Cosmic Bowling. This is where they turn all the lights except for the UV off, and play loud music. I assume they do this to make bowling more exciting and attract the youth of Swin. Unfortunately the youth are all hanging around outside wearing chav-hats and hoodies, and the rest of us that just come in to bowl are left wondering what happened to the bowling alley.

A couple of the pins are red, and if a red pin comes up in the number one position you have the chance to win prizes. It's not supposed to happen very often, but it happened to my team five times. Two of them were to me. Not too bad, but another exciting new twist to Cosmic Bowling is the fat guy in a yellow shirt who stands behind you with a microphone and commentates on your attempts. Thus I was mocked -- in front of all 30 lanes -- twice. It does nothing to lift your game, believe me.

I sucked at bowling, by the way. My reasonable performance of eighteen months ago has degraded into something truly abysmal.

Squonky got the men's highest score, and his team won the tournament. Lou got the women's highest score.

I ain't ever going to hear the end of this.

My surprise

I'm not saying that they don't exist, just that I have never met a girl I find attractive and then found out she reads speculative fiction. Maybe it's because I don't move in the right circles, but it's a surprise when the girl I'm talking to -- pretty, and with that foreign-looking thing that always gets me -- starts talking about Stephen Donaldson and JRR Tolkien.

Later . . .