Once upon a time I had fairly good luck with things. I was quite young, yes, but there was nary a contest nor chance which I could enter or encounter which didn’t work to my favor. Rolling dice would result in repeated cries of “YAHTZEE!”; selecting a number in a range would provide the huge gift; and once I was returning from a guided tour of a Canadian Armed Forces Naval vessel, complete with barbeque on the aft deck, which was a prize awarded by the local daily paper that some small number of entrants won, when I told a joke to a disc-jockey in a department store and received a t-shirt for the recently released movie Star Wars (which was far too large for me so my Father wore it instead).

Yes, that was 1977, and those of you who are born after that time can shut your screech-holes before they get filled with Quick-Crete®.

Since that time, my luck seems to have pretty-much disappeared entirely. The litany of things which went ‘wrong’ would be sufficiently long to fill the internet entirely, so let’s just say “it was a lot” and leave it at that, shall we?

Tuesday seems to have been either an official declaration that the drought has come to an end, or at least a statement of the luck returning in some fashion or degree of existence.

A contest I entered weeks ago (and promptly forgot about) reached its ‘draw-date’ and I won one of the prizes. It was co-sponsored by Best Buy and BC Hydro, and arranged by the local blogger Miss 604 as part of “Power Smart Month”, a period in the year that one is reminded about using electricity and other power sources intelligently and with an eye to reducing the amount to that being actually required. I expected to win some Compact Fluorescent Light-Bulbs, or perhaps a coupon for reducing the cost of a low-power lamp, heater, or something along these lines. However, the results were far more than this. I am to receive the Grand Prize of a 46″, 3D-Ready, LED, Flat-Screen Television; a 3D-Capable, Blu-Ray Player featuring Full HD 3D processing for 3D viewing in high definition, complemented by up to 7.1 channels of spectacular surround sound, and with Ethernet and wireless connectivity; plus a 3D Starter Kit containing two pairs of 3D glasses and a copy of Monsters vs. Aliens (3D Blu-Ray); all of which is to be set-up by the Geek Squad in their advanced setup install which includes wall mounting, wire concealing and full audio setup for a complete living room set up that both looks fantastic and maximizes the TV viewing experience. If you’re wondering why all of that is part of a “Power Smart” promotion, all of the components receive a “Energy Star Rating” of 4.0.

Well… a bit more than a light-bulb or two, eh?

Shortly thereafter, I received an e-mail from A Very Famous Writer Person providing their home address to which, yes, they would be happy to get some books from me in my Atomic Fez mode. Hurray! How wonderful to be able to (hopefully, anyway) get some decent, earth-shattering exposure! Lord knows I can bloody-well use it right now, as the world’s economy continues to have its horrible way with sales figures.

So… two.

Then, suddenly, and entirely unexpectedly, the Premier of the Province of British Columbia announces he’s asking the Liberal Party to hold a leadership convention as soon as it’s able, as he’s stepping down. Some may recall that recently this blog had a quite bitter and cynical rant about how I no longer could rationally state my support of the government office as being a complicated one to judge from the outside the actions of the owner of the position. “There’s lots of things that are tough to know about from an outsider’s perspective” was the approach mostly taken, but the number of times things by Gordon Campbell pushed me to a position of “no politician can be trusted in any fashion” had reached the point of no return, and he was solely to blame for this.

And… there’s three, then.

I can’t wait for the next triumvirate of grand success.

Here’s a run through of this week’s, minus any identification of the scribbling writer-boy.

According to this piece on author Christopher Fowler’s blog, the collective area in London referred to as Bloomsbury, Holborn, and St. Giles is being “re-branded” in an initiative started by the Business Improvement District; a public/private partnership with Camden Council. Knowing how ‘wonderful’ the PPP arrangement can be from first-hand experience (as well as knowing how nefarious their committee-determined plans can be), one is hardly surprised to hear the new name is “InMidTown”, or simply “MidTown”. Presumably, becuase it’s in the middle of London, right between “The City of London”, where the Financial District is, and the West End where the theatres are. Let’s ignore the fat that they’re cramming words together that ought to have spaces between them but don’t because it’s ‘teh neu sexie’, and press on to more basic questions.

While not in the habit of quoting US Presidents, especially the late Pres. Johnson, one can’t help but recall the grammatically unique statement “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” Merely because an area has been referred to using the same name for a century or more doesn’t qualify it immediately for a newly christened label purely to ‘refresh its marketability’. “Rome” seems to do well, as does “Paris” and even “Swansea”. Granted, “New Amsterdam” and “Constantinople” got a new lick of paint at one point, but given that “New York City” was more in keeping with its then-recent influx of English-born settlers, this made sense*. Bloomsbury, Holborn, and St Giles, however, all work perfectly well, and aid in locating where the tube station will deposit one on the street; on some of the A-Z maps it’s actually easier to find a district by seeking the tube station named for it.

Frankly, how anyone can find it difficult to learn the District Names is beyond me. I’ve only visited London (or ‘Londinium’, for those of you born of the Roman occupation era… no names here) two times, and both of about a week’s length with over 18 months betwixt them. In that time I’ve not only learned how to navigate my way through a fair chunk of the central areas, I even learned their names; and in some cases the derivation thereof, which went a fair way to aid in the matter.

I’ve nothing against change; far from it. However if it’s change purely for the sake of, or to assist in selling the same old wine in the same old skin with a brand-new name… well, one wonders just how good the seller thinks the wine is. If it’s all that great, then why was the name change needed? If a dog food company is erroneously thought to be using horse-meat in its product, then they eventually (and quietly) change their name to disassociate themselves from the scandal. In this case, I can’t think of a sexier place to live than Bloomsbury, with its literary heritage and air of artisan-driven business success. Granted, some might consider the fact that all of the Bloomsbury Group was sleeping with just about everyone else in the Bloomsbury Group might be a bit of a down-side to the image, but played right it could be quite the asset in this brave new world of ours. “Romance! Intrigue! Passion! All these can be yours, plus a new Post Code! (10% of purchase as deposit required)”.

It all seems so un-necessary, really. One wonders if the local Councils just need some bucking-up and reassurance that “we love you, really!” and be encouraged to “be proud of who you are!”

BAH! Ridiculous. All those who are opposed to my thoughts are encouraged to bring forth brandy for mne to drink whilst you explain your reasons for doing so.

* Why “Istanbul” was seen as being required for the “Welcome to…” signs is nobody’s business but the Turks’.

While the entries about the recent trip to the UK have been left for awhile, efforts to explain what the e-book is and is not (IE: useful and environmentally responsible; a threat to printed books or the people who read them) has been engaged in for some time over on the Atomic Fez site.

Meanwhile, here’s a little something that Christoper Fowler discovered where letters dance on a page: GO HERE

So… “Brighton, Part II”… finally, eh? What’s the delay about, anyway? Simple: being busy, really. Granted, that’s not the most interesting reason one can hear, but it’s certainly accurate. Books, books, more books, and sometimes beer. More of all the intervening events anon, meanwhile let’s cover some of the more interesting events within World HorrorCon 2010 AKA: “BRIGHTON SHOCK!”

Registering was a breeze, especially as the lady behind the table half-recognized me, and was part-way locating my material as I approached. Confirming my identity as a mere formality by showing her my Driver’s Licence, I turned to the second stage of the task, which was the receiving of the ‘goodie bag’ for the convention, containing donated volumes and bits of promotional bumpf from various authors, publishers, and so on. With the warning “are you ready for this?” a black, nylon carry-bag with two-inch-wide shoulder strap was handed to me, at which point my arm was nearly torn out of its socket due to the weight of the thing. Truly this was not a simple ‘swag bag’, but a veritable Bag of Brobdignagian Bundle of Books! Granted, the inclusion of a three-inch-thick hardback book as the “Souvenir Programme”, a massive full-colour volume about Basil Copper, plus an equally thick zombie graphic novel collection were a fair bit responsible for the weight on their own, but the sheer volume of the material was literally causing people to be seen staggering around the lobby. In the end I shipped most of it home – so as to avoid being 100KG over my luggage allowance – but the Basil Copper and Zombie Comic books were left for someone who might want them more than I did.

The actual convention events were mostly held in the historic Royal Albion Hôtel [image, left, is not of the hotel], located literally across the road from the entrance to the Brighton Pier. For those of you located in North America, something in the UK which is called “historic” is not built following the death of Her late Majesty Queen Victoria in 1901, but likely was constructed long before her birth in1819. In this case, the building was originally three different ones that have been combined into one rambling confusion of room styles and turning passageways. This non-linear layout is often described as “charming” and/or possessing an “unique character”. If you like Bauhaus-styled minimalism, events held in these sorts of buildings are not for you.

In fact, the most historical portion of the building is the third of it furthest west, which is where the Dealers’ Room happened to be located for the event. Well, actually, it was comprised of two rooms, plus the outer hallway. Still, there were wondrous things to be easily found there, some of which were the books of Atomic Fez Publishing. Hooray!

I admit that my book table’s location – right inside the door of the main Dealers’ Room – was likely of some fair help in sales being fairly good, plus the fact the titles were more ‘WHC-oriented” in their content than not. Additionally, the outside rear cover of the “Pocket Programme” (a hard-backed, jacket-less, slim, 80-page volume of a page size sufficient to burst any pocket available, save for those of a Sherpa’s overcoat) displayed a full-colour Atomic Fez advert of the “soft-sell”, “welcome to the event… have a good time… stop by for a chat… then please buy some books” variety, which provided a 50/50 chance of people seeing it every time they tossed it down on the bed in their room or on the chair next to them attending a panel discussion. One actual side-effect of the ad was that people thought Atomic Fez had something to do with the production of the book, which wasn’t the case; it was due much to the efforts of the fine team of PS Publishing, run by the equally fine Peter Crowther, and I had nothing to do with it at all except paying for the ad space.

The principle aim for this 1^st event of the two during this trip was basically three-fold:

1. show-up
2. prove the books exist and weren’t merely a “hoped to be ready eventually” rumour
3. hold my head up in UK’s literary public events

So, on those levels, all was success.

The first day presented the initial point at which I was challenged to defy the laws of both physics and the rules governing the space/time continuüm – being in two places at the same time – as the Pitch Black session started at noon and ran until 17:00, but the Dealers’ Room opened at 14:00 and ran until 18:00. A bit tricky, but as there was a delay with delivery of the books, this worked out just fine in the end. Granted, upon being informed that the boxes of books had arrived, the response “FUCKING YEAH!!!” whilst punching the air might not have been the most professional thing to cry after breaking off in the middle of someone’s pitch about their book proposal. I’m not sure if taking a breath, then turning back to the author at the time with the mild-voiced question “So… about these stories of yours…” was enough to mitigate the interruption, either. This was followed a few hours later, however, by the illustrious John Llewellyn Probert coming into the room – in the middle of a pitch by the particularly quiet and soignée Anna Taborska about a collection of her stories – and lying on top of me whilst I cried “you know I prefer it when you’re on the bottom!” Poor JLP, he’d no idea that it was the Pitch Black session, thinking he had located me in the Dealers’ Room; although I’m not sure how this might have been better. Ms Taborska is likely still stunned.

The Pitch Black session was good for both sides of the table, in my view, as it provided many authors the opportunity to pitch their works – possibly for the first time in their career – to some people in the publishing industry they mightn’t otherwise have had any access to; as well as giving those agents and publishers on the opposing side of the table a ‘quick and dirty’ overview of people we’d not heard of prior to then. If money was no obstacle, and there was an un-limited amount of time to accomplish things, many of the proposals from that session would be pursued further to examine the viability of the matter in greater detail. In short, another success. Yes, there were some who were labelled ‘loonies’ – and for good reason – but one recalls a attending a cattle-call style of audition for the national touring production of a major musical being done a fair bit less than entirely great. The first time isn’t the greatest in so many matters, but it’s important to get things started in order to improve.

On the final day of the event – Sunday at noon – there was the panel discussion of ‘the New Pan Books of Horror’, covering the anthologies which came after the ‘official’ Pan Books of Horror Stories; both the semi-official and those which were rather less than so, such as the two Humdrumming Books of Horror Stories which I edited. Not only was this the first panel I had even been on, Stephen Jones (editor of an on-going series of immensely influential anthologies) was sitting right next to me. Considering this – plus the location being the grand lounge used to hold the opening and closing ceremonies and all of the Guest of Honour Interviews – the fact the crowd was on the sparse side was actually a relief. It seemed to go well, though; people were generally amused and pleased to have attended. Generally the discussion covered the final stage of the famous anthologies, as well as an attempt to revive the series shortly after Steve Jones took over editing duties of the material for the purposes of a “Best of…” volume of the previous thirty-or-so Pan… editions, as well as the loss of much of the original painted cover artworks, some rather dodgy business practices of the titular editor Herbert van Thal, and the question of whether the re-issue of the very first Pan Books’ volume signalled a one-off nostalgia cash-in or if it could be parleyed into a new series of volumes. A pleasant hour, if nothing else.

During the convention, an amazing number of events took place, but the one which is most likely to live in infamy was the party held on the Friday evening at the furthest end of the Brighton Pier. Its supply of food and drink was immense, with the Host Bar bearing a reported £5,000 drink limit for any one individual attending it. Sponsored by a few American writers, the party was roundly praised as surpassing any level of Bacchanalian revelry ever seen before by those attending. In addition to the sheer volume of it, the quality of food and drink was inestimable by anyone returning to the hotel later. Oddly, I didn’t attend, as I was fighting the final bits of jet-lag, and had already noticed my voice dropping an octave owing to its over-use and possible influence of Guinness drinking. During the final ten days of my trip a year-and-a-half ago I was fighting some kind of mild cold which was more annoying than debilitating, but a repeat wasn’t something I wanted to experience.

As a promotional event, the book by “Lord Probert” was given a “Win a Champagne Breakfast with the Author” contest, complete with a ‘golden ticket’ tucked inside one of the copies of Wicked Delights. As a result, the delightfully charming Stephen Bacon was blessed with the opportunity to ‘break his fast’ in the company of Lord & Lady Probert with the wonderful accompaniment of fine champagne!! The downside of this was I was also in attendance… into every life a little rain must fall…

John Llewellyn Probert (say the initial “ll” correctly and be rewarded with a goggle-eyed expression of surprise, by the way) and his “Lady Kate” are an equally matched barmy couple; if his arrival in the Pitch Black session a few paragraphs ago didn’t make clear his nature. On the Friday evening (while sordid things were done on the pier), the two of them brought the 1968 film Corruption to life on stage with only the two of them, a couple of chairs, and an assortment of props. The result was insane, hysterical, and probably better produced than the original film. Thanks to the skills of the vast personnel in “Lord Froggy’s Dungeon”, we present for you here this FINE THEATRICAL PERFORMANCE, complete with GUARANTEED ACTUAL ATTRACTIVE FEMALE (she’s the one with the North American accent; the one that sounds British is male).

Also insanely funny was the two-man performance by Nathaniel Tapley and John Hopkins (I think it was John, anyway) Darren Strange, collectively known as In the Gloaming. That was the Friday evening, with a performance by them on the Saturday evening with the full group of players, which I missed owing to going to bed a bit early.

Prior to the insanity above, at the start of the evening’s entertainment, was a performance of the M.R. James story “A Warning to the Curious”, as a one-man performance by Mr. ____ Lloyd-Perry. It was an incredibly deep one, delivering a reality not normally experienced from a story nearly a century old. A brilliant, spooky, and moving performance, and one to see if you attend some sort of even such as WHC.

On the Saturday evening, the AMA “Stoker Awards” Banquet was held on the Brighton Pier. The main course was ‘Fish & Chips’, but as an hors d’œuvre we had paté. This was something to which I was intestinally un-prepared for (at home I’m mostly vegetarian) and suddenly introducing something as ‘hard-core dead-animal food’ was a bit of a jolt to the system. The next morning the tum was a bit ‘oooogly’ (if that makes any sense to you). As paté goes, it was ‘okay’, but not thrilling, so the end result wasn’t worth the consumption. Next time I’ll try to ‘ease-up’ on the matter in stages, possibly by bringing down a live gazelle with my bare hands and tearing flesh from its skeleton with my teeth whilst it is still thrashing about in agony.

On the Sunday afternoon, John Travis did a reading from his first novel The Terror and the Tortoiseshell, using a version of its prologue on which I had done some editing of the text so as to keep it within the permitted time-slot’s length. It went quite well, with John paying particular attention to not rushing, permitting the listeners to properly take-in the material as he presented it.

So, all-in-all, everything went well. Books were sold, people were entertained, and no-one punched me in the eye. HOORAY!

Give me a bit and the second part of World HorrorCon will get discussed, but first there’s something I’ve noticed on both this and the two previous trips which still perplexes me. Every morning on BBC Breakfast, the hosts hold up copies of the morning’s newspapers, showing the headlines.

Here’s the front of the “Times”, with a big photograph on it this morning!

Yes, it is big, Charlie. Here’s the “Independent”, which seems more restrained than the “Times” does; it’s not got a picture on the front at all today.

No, but here’s a really large photo, right next to a large headline; but it’s the “Daily Mail”, so that’s not really surprising is it?

Granted, they’re not called “hosts” here, they’re “presenters”, which is exactly what they’re doing: presenting you with the morning’s newspapers. They’ve been doing this since my first trip in 2007, and don’t seem to have stopped once. Why do they do this, is the question.

Perhaps they feel the need to remind people that – despite the fact they’re watching television – there still are newspapers out there, and are holding them up as some sort of historical curiosity akin to coverage of the Staffordshire Horde?

Here’s something they sent to us from the collection of the British Museum: it’s a little egg made by a French feller called Fabergé, and which was once owned by a Russian Czar! Isn’t it pretty? Look at those red parts; they’re made of rock crystal! There’s only a few of these eggs left, because a lot of them have been lost over the years. This one is over a hundred years old now!

Yes, that’s quite nice, isn’t it? There are many things from the past that are quite pretty that aren’t made anymore. Here’s something else with a lot of red on it, and someone also made-it-up, it’s called “The Sun”, and it’s got both a picture and words on the front! Lots of them, see?

Gosh! Those are a lot of words, Susanna! Now here’s something that hasn’t any red in: it’s a picture our editor Alison got from her daughter yesterday: it’s a picture of a house, with a bird on the roof!

Is it a [slowly, for the dimmer viewers] ‘bird house’, Bill?

No, just a house. There only happens to be a bird on the roof. Life’s funny like that eh?

So it is, Bill… so it is…

[THEY look at the camera with expressions of “golly, it’s all a bit too much sometimes, eh?”]

The actual use of this ‘newspaper displaying’ is – while not professed, it is certainly implied – presumably a way of taking the temperature of the people, or at least the things people will be babbling about during the day at work, and later at the pub. ‘Did you hear what the PM says he’s going to do?’ ‘Yeah, saw the front of The Standard on the way here… makes you sick, innit?’ To my mind, it does seem a bit more than that, however, with news being made of the front pages of newspapers. Soon, perhaps, we’ll see coverage on the front pages of what papers weren’t held up during the broadcast: “What the BBC Won’t Show You!” and it’ll all go around again until people are fed-up and have thrown their televisions at ‘the grocers’ newsman: Rupert Murdoch.

Answers on a postcard, please.