And So Winter Arrived In My Testicles

December 5th, 2012 | daybook

This is not a photo of my testicles.  But god DAMN sitting outside in the garden today to clear my lungs was a challenge.  Apparently this came out of nowhere around 7am and dumped two inches in two hours.  Let me try and catch up with some stuff.

Katie West’s print sale ends today.  And, by god, look at this poster Ellen Rogers and Prizme put together for Meredith and her Parlour Trick Kickstarter.  This magical thing is in the USD $45 reward tier – which is a steal – and the Kickstarter’s only running for another 18 hours or so.  Look at this:

 

And over at thisisGUNMACHINE, you can find the first chunk of the Spotify playlist I put together, reflecting at least part of what I was listening to while writing the book.  And now I’m being told I have to leave the house to drink wine.  Which will hopefully thaw some of the ice, there in the very disturbing places it currently sits.


Apparently It’s Wednesday

December 5th, 2012 | daybook

This came yesterday and I haven’t had a chance to unbox it yet.  But thank you, BERG!  (It’s a Little Printer. Make clicky to learn.)

My head’s mostly in writing and scheduling right now.  Trying to tree a new idea, trying to wade deeper into New Book, writing a couple of other things, trying to get together with friends, arranging interviews… everything always seems to crash together at this time of year.

People keep asking if I have “thoughts” about Karen Berger leaving DC Vertigo Comics. I’ve spoken to Karen personally. I don’t think anything else was required. She is, of course, a giant.


The Usual Short “Still Alive, Yes” Entry

December 3rd, 2012 | daybook

unholy nightSo this got read, in order to review it for NEW HUMANIST.  Haven’t read anything by Seth Grahame-Smith before, and was pleasantly surprised.

I am pausing New Book for a couple of days because I have to do some other things, not least of which is stay on top of the PR effort for GUN MACHINE.  Interviews, creative development and management, schedules, that kind of thing.  Weirdly hard to put in sustained novel-writing hours and do that stuff at the same time: it seems to steal from the same pool of energy, and I’m not sure why.

Also I’ve had a headache for a couple of days now, which either means blood pressure or maggots are hatching in my brain.  Your call.

I have a piece in VICE MAGAZINE UK’s tenth anniversary issue.  Not sure when that’s out. And for those of you who weren’t around at the weekend, I pushed a new podcast live.


While America Hammers A Turkey Into Its Face

November 21st, 2012 | daybook

Yesterday was a write-off, work-wise. New Book DEATH BAR:

In which I wrote the line “Did you have silver polyester over my head at some point?”

Yeah., I know.  It gets better, I swear.  I hope.

So America is now switching off in order to devour an almost unimaginably wide swarm of birds, or vegetarian leaf-eating substitutes thereof.  I, however, am English.  God was an Englishman, you know.  Until we shot, cooked and ate him.  But I am going to take the opportunity to turn things off here (aside from the Closedown post) until Monday, and work while all the offices are closed.  Have a good weekend, folks.  It is now sunset on warren ellis dot com.


In Which I Get Beaten Up By Books

November 19th, 2012 | daybook

So, back in August, I proclaimed that I had cracked New Book, a thing that had been fighting me every step of the way, announced that I’d nailed down the first thousand words, and that forward progress was inevitable. I had crushed the book, driven it before me and heard the lamentation of its women.

I am, of course, a fucking moron.

Three months of writing, rewriting, giving up and walking away, coming back and burning out the rot with fire, walking away and hitting things followed. This book is fighting me. It wants to be written, but it does not want to make it easy.

Therefore, after throwing away everything but the first 800 words and starting again, I give you the return of the DEATH BAR:

In which there is a riot, and an interrogation of sorts, and I show you how to do something really fucking horrible with a pencil.

The NEW HUMANIST, of all magazines, sent me this book to review for them. I have to finish it this week, somehow. I haven’t read any of Seth Grahame-Smith’s other works, and know them only by reputation. So far, I can say that, to this point, it’s a Ripping Yarn of considerable charm, and that Grahame-Smith does know his way around a sentence. It’s also, a hundred pages in, a lot more traditionally Christian than I was expecting, and stands in some contrast to Colm Toibin’s THE TESTAMENT OF MARY, also released in the last month, and which I’m going to write a little bit about later today.

Incidentally, NEW HUMANIST has for you some free downloadable Christmas Cards by the famous British political cartoonist and illustrator Martin Rowson.  Go and take a look.

(It’s the British Humanist Association that I’m connected with, not the Rationalist Association that runs NEW HUMANIST.  But we’re all in broad agreement that Satan is real.)

Also in today’s (re-)reading, from the Futurist Manifesto (as found in 100 ARTISTS’ MANIFESTOS, ed. Alex Danchev):

Back on the air.  Also, the website redesign should be complete within the next week or two.