Keith and Ronnie up a tree, F-A-L-L-I-N-G
I’ve been away. And now I’m back. Back and, since Christmas, rather happy. Yes, I finally found a man who is so smart he’s fallen for my triple bluff and doesn’t realise what a liability I actually am, but then if he will keep smiling at me like that then I am never gonna leave and that’ll teach ‘im. Yessir. Yessirree Bob.
In other news, all the usual nonsense applies. Dead by Dawn’s 13th Anniversary came and went – and despite how few quality films were out there, being a damn genius I still managed to put on a kick-ass event, cos I’m smashing, me. Lots of happy punters, and that's pretty much all that matters.
So, got away with one more of those (at least until the budget meeting next Tuesday which I am a tad afraid of…) and the anthology came out looking rather splendid and has had all sorts of gushing praise from people who know I know where they live.
The book did have all sorts of teething problems, like not including the author’s names against their stories in the contents and me not realising that being curator of the imprint is not the same as being editor of the book and I may have sold myself short and intend to be credited as editor from here on it because that’s the job I do and do rather well, I think.
Also, despite the fact that someone got paid to proof read the book, they clearly ran a spell-check and spent their conned earnings down the pub feeling smug. Whoever it was is a lazy sod. The book was not proof read. I have found too may errors to make me feel generous and say, ah hell they missed one. No they didn’t. They missed fecking hunners of errors and that’s shit.
Still, because of the timeline for the first one I didn’t get to proof the interior of the book (something I am kinda unhappy about but then I did agree to the timeline so I don't really get to grumble) and that’ll all change next time around.
Happily, people seem to love the book and despite its hiccups, so do I. Generous Simon is paying for me to go to Canada in July to promote it, too, so that’s gonna be a blast. Raving about this book is an easy thing for me to do :)
The classic anthology I am still reading as I discovered to my shame that I only know one story in it. That’s a bit feeble, really, but soon to be remedied.
Also, with the festival out the way I am now letting my own book settle back into its depraved and dark space in my head and have started tentatively editing. Well, chopping out the obviously clumsy drivel and trying to actually get it to a state where I can leave it alone long enough to go away and do the forensic and location research.
Which brings me to the reason I thought about writing here again. I just watched the trailer for Pirates of the Caribbean 2. Actually, I need to backtrack a bit…
My favourite story of the year so far, one that still makes me laugh out loud just to think about it, is the one about Keith Richards falling out a coconut tree. See, from what I gather, he and Ronnie Wood were up a tree (no shit) and he fell out. Then he got up and went jet-skiing, only to fall off the jet-ski. At which point some concerned on-looker (only a tad late) called an ambulance.
Anyhoo, even without Keith, I pretty much want to see this film, and yes it has a whole lot to do with Johnny Depp running about dressed as a pirate. Sigh. I’m a girl. We’ve been targeted. Look at those eyes and tell me it’s wrong.
Sooooo, I went online to watch the trailer. Now, there are some who would call me a harsh and judgmental witch (a fair assessment sometimes) and in this case, I look at the LOTR-ish sweeping scale stuff and the unnecessary fx spending and I think, hmm, Jerry Bruckheimer, you twat, you may have traded in all that goodwill generated by the slow-build buzz of the first film, and in its place be doling out the same tired old fx laden, plot-light, character-dismissing, cliché-riddled CACK that smears every other multiplex screen in blockbuster season. And the rest of the year, sadly.
Jerry Bruckheimer, the man who has ensured the safe financial passage of, say, Pearl Harbor. Con Air. The Rock. Armageddon. Flashdance.
Poot. Now yes, the film will be fun and yes, Johnny will be as fanciably lush and louche as ever, the wee minx. But I beg of a god I don’t believe in, please let it be one scratchy ba’ hair better than all the other uber-budget mince out there right now.
And I now live in Glasgow, about three days a week and the other four in Fife. Or sometimes in smashing hotels on lush weekends away where I am pampered to within an inch of my life by my smashing man. Or pootling about on a glorious loch in a wee boat. Or eating curry. Or driving about in the open-top which becomes a duck-pond-in-waiting sometimes given the vagaries of Scottish weather…
But for now, soup and toast. See, you gave up ten minutes of your life reading this only for me to tell you what I'm having for me tea.
In other news, all the usual nonsense applies. Dead by Dawn’s 13th Anniversary came and went – and despite how few quality films were out there, being a damn genius I still managed to put on a kick-ass event, cos I’m smashing, me. Lots of happy punters, and that's pretty much all that matters.
So, got away with one more of those (at least until the budget meeting next Tuesday which I am a tad afraid of…) and the anthology came out looking rather splendid and has had all sorts of gushing praise from people who know I know where they live.
The book did have all sorts of teething problems, like not including the author’s names against their stories in the contents and me not realising that being curator of the imprint is not the same as being editor of the book and I may have sold myself short and intend to be credited as editor from here on it because that’s the job I do and do rather well, I think.
Also, despite the fact that someone got paid to proof read the book, they clearly ran a spell-check and spent their conned earnings down the pub feeling smug. Whoever it was is a lazy sod. The book was not proof read. I have found too may errors to make me feel generous and say, ah hell they missed one. No they didn’t. They missed fecking hunners of errors and that’s shit.
Still, because of the timeline for the first one I didn’t get to proof the interior of the book (something I am kinda unhappy about but then I did agree to the timeline so I don't really get to grumble) and that’ll all change next time around.
Happily, people seem to love the book and despite its hiccups, so do I. Generous Simon is paying for me to go to Canada in July to promote it, too, so that’s gonna be a blast. Raving about this book is an easy thing for me to do :)
The classic anthology I am still reading as I discovered to my shame that I only know one story in it. That’s a bit feeble, really, but soon to be remedied.
Also, with the festival out the way I am now letting my own book settle back into its depraved and dark space in my head and have started tentatively editing. Well, chopping out the obviously clumsy drivel and trying to actually get it to a state where I can leave it alone long enough to go away and do the forensic and location research.
Which brings me to the reason I thought about writing here again. I just watched the trailer for Pirates of the Caribbean 2. Actually, I need to backtrack a bit…
My favourite story of the year so far, one that still makes me laugh out loud just to think about it, is the one about Keith Richards falling out a coconut tree. See, from what I gather, he and Ronnie Wood were up a tree (no shit) and he fell out. Then he got up and went jet-skiing, only to fall off the jet-ski. At which point some concerned on-looker (only a tad late) called an ambulance.
Anyhoo, even without Keith, I pretty much want to see this film, and yes it has a whole lot to do with Johnny Depp running about dressed as a pirate. Sigh. I’m a girl. We’ve been targeted. Look at those eyes and tell me it’s wrong.
Sooooo, I went online to watch the trailer. Now, there are some who would call me a harsh and judgmental witch (a fair assessment sometimes) and in this case, I look at the LOTR-ish sweeping scale stuff and the unnecessary fx spending and I think, hmm, Jerry Bruckheimer, you twat, you may have traded in all that goodwill generated by the slow-build buzz of the first film, and in its place be doling out the same tired old fx laden, plot-light, character-dismissing, cliché-riddled CACK that smears every other multiplex screen in blockbuster season. And the rest of the year, sadly.
Jerry Bruckheimer, the man who has ensured the safe financial passage of, say, Pearl Harbor. Con Air. The Rock. Armageddon. Flashdance.
Poot. Now yes, the film will be fun and yes, Johnny will be as fanciably lush and louche as ever, the wee minx. But I beg of a god I don’t believe in, please let it be one scratchy ba’ hair better than all the other uber-budget mince out there right now.
And I now live in Glasgow, about three days a week and the other four in Fife. Or sometimes in smashing hotels on lush weekends away where I am pampered to within an inch of my life by my smashing man. Or pootling about on a glorious loch in a wee boat. Or eating curry. Or driving about in the open-top which becomes a duck-pond-in-waiting sometimes given the vagaries of Scottish weather…
But for now, soup and toast. See, you gave up ten minutes of your life reading this only for me to tell you what I'm having for me tea.
posted by Adele at 6:13 pm
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