Sunday, 30 January 2011
Sunday Story Every Beat of My Heart | Cat Connor
By Cat Connor
I was humming but it wasn’t long before the words popped out my mouth, “Ho ho fuc’n ho, what a crock of shit…we all work for Beatrice Claus and I’m sick of it.”
“Not a fan of Christmas?” Mac asked with a wicked grin. “Or is it the lunacy of my mother that’s riled you up?”
“I’m sure the day will be… interesting.”
I stretched my arms above my head, and loosened my shoulders. I noticed a small twinge in my right shoulder blade. Nothing to write home about just an annoyance, a reminder of something I’d sooner forget. I dropped my arms and rotated the offending shoulder.
“Tired?” Mac asked cutting yet another piece of red paper adorned with Santa’s and reindeer. His face suggested concentration on the task.
“Yeah. Looking forward to a break from work,” I replied. “Seems like an extraordinarily tough year so far.”
This was our first Christmas as a couple, an engaged couple at that. Also, my first Christmas without Mom; which wasn’t a bad thing, it was just different. We had Mac’s mom making a production out of Christmas. Such a familiar pattern. Over the top decorating, everything has to be just right. Too much food. Color coordinated everything, including wrapping paper. I picked up another roll and cut a length off for the next gift. Best to get on with it. A fated resignation fell over me.
I dropped the roll of paper onto the thick carpet and commented, “Nice of your mother to supply the wrapping paper.”
Mac grinned, wrapped another gift, and wrote on the tag. “And the tags.”
Guess we were lucky to be able to choose our own gifts for the family. I wrote on another tag and stuck it to the parcel I’d wrapped.
“What time tomorrow?” I asked.
“Eight,” Mac replied.
I didn’t think he meant at night. “When’s lunch?”
“About two.”
I saw a long day in front of me. A long tortuous day.
I could tell Mac was enjoying the idea of having company in his tinseled hell. We both remembered the hideous wooden bows she was making earlier in the year. At my suggestion, she added everyone’s names. Now the hideous things adorned the outside of their house – hanging on a large wooden Christmas tree she’d also made. We’re talking ugly about fifteen feet tall – painted, lit with lights and hung with the god awful wooden bows which themselves were at least thirteen inches wide.
“A long long day,” I whispered.
My trepidation escalated much like his mothers creation of Christmas. Beatrice Connelly loved Christmas, she loved it so much no one else had to.
“Don’t suppose you wanna make coffee? Mac asked with a smile.
I raised an eyebrow. “Actually I do…”
“That’d be nice.”
I held the bedroom door open to leave and his cat stalked in with her nose in the air. She eyed me with disdain.
“Won’t she rip the paper?” I asked, kissing him as I left.
“Yes, that’s why she’s not staying.” Seconds later the cat and I stood staring at each other on the landing as the bedroom door closed. I shrugged. She skulked downstairs ahead of me. In the kitchen, I turned the coffee maker on then filled her bowl with cat biscuits.
I left the cat eating and hurried into the home office Mac and I shared. I pulled open a drawer in my desk – my hand sort out a small box hidden in the back. It didn’t take long to find. I pulled it out and opened the lid. Nestled against the white satin lining sat a pair of citrine embedded silver cufflinks. They sparkled in the lamp light.
The coffee maker gurgled. The smell of fresh coffee made from one hundred percent Arabica beans wafted down the hallway. I found the small square of Christmas paper I had stashed days before in the office cupboard. Thick gold paper embossed with baubles of blue and silver. With care, I wrapped Mac’s surprise gift and added a blue and gold gift card. I hid the present in my handbag that sat on the kitchen counter.
Under our tree in the living room sat large wrapped boxes. In multi-colored paper – defying the orders that only one particular red paper be used this year. It was my tree in our home; I’d have what I liked. It was the rebel in me, or maybe the large dose of contrary I was born with.
There were presents for my father and brother, gifts for my best friend, Holly. Gifts for my colleagues slash trusted friends in Delta A, namely Sam, Lee and our boss SAC Caine Grafton.
The wall clock ticked.
I called up the stairs, “Dad and Aiden will be here soon.” A car pulled into the driveway. “They’re here…”
The bedroom door opened then shut. Mac bounded downstairs three at a time and raced me to the front door. I won.
“You cheated!” he crowed.
“I did not,” I replied turning the handle and trying to open the door. It stuck. I jiggled the door handle.
“Karma,” Mac said. “You cheated and the door knows.”
I tugged harder and it swung open.
“Did not.”
Aiden was already unloading the bags from the trunk. I spotted Dad fetching things from the back seat. My cell phone buzzed in my jeans pocket at the exact same moment as a black Ford Expedition pulled into the driveway behind dad’s car. Lee leaned over the passenger seat and waved at me. I waved back and checked my phone. Sure enough, the text was from Lee. ‘Not a social call - we have a case.’
Lee hauled from the car. “Howdy Colonel, Aiden,” he said. My father strode over and shook Lee’s hand. Aiden followed suit a reserved smile upon his lips. Mac’s arm snaked around my shoulders as he whispered in my ear, “Lee’s early.”
I whispered back, “we’ve been called out.”
“You’re on leave,” he reminded gently.
“It’s not a job, it’s a way of life.” I kissed him. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” A dark part of me hoped it was a messy involved case and I’d be busy until New Years.
“No problem. I’ll hang out with the Colonel and your brother and hear all about young Ellie.”
“There’ll be a quiz later – take notes.”
Lee coughed quietly, indicating he was close by. “All set?”
“One sec.” I hurried back inside the house. I grabbed my gun and holster, and snapped the holster firmly to my belt, then stuffed my ID wallet into my jeans pocket. Pulled on a jacket from the closet in the hallway, charged into the kitchen and hooked my handbag over my shoulder. Ready I stepped out the front door into the cold afternoon air.
“Let’s do it,” I said.
Aiden glared at me. “It’s Christmas.”
“I know.”
Lee held the car door for me. The three men waved from the doorstep. Half way down the street, I asked about Sam.
“He’ll meet us,” Lee replied flicking the window wipers on to swoosh snowflakes from the windscreen.
“Snowing,” I muttered watching more stick. “Why we were we called?”
“Caine wants us in, that’s all I know. He said you’d know why when we get there.”
Oh, goodie a mystery. I held my sarcasm in check. “Where are we going?”
“DC.”
No kidding Einstein. My phone buzzed, it was Sam.
“How long will you be?” he asked.
“On our way – trouble?”
“It’s Christmas Eve, and this ain’t good.”
I hung up, leaned forward and pressed a button on the dash. Our rolling lights sent beams of red and blue into the snowy air, the siren wailed. Cars began pulling off the road and out of our way. The drive took longer than it should have, with fresh snow falling and slippery conditions.
The radio station cranked out Christmas song after Christmas song, the temptation to sing along was high, but luckily for Lee I resisted.
Propelled through an open door by an unseen force, I found myself standing in the spacious foyer of a very expensive home. Two police officers stood inside the front door. They greeted us with nods and small smiles. In one corner of the room stood a huge tastefully decorated Christmas tree. Its lights twinkled and blinked, making the glass baubles seem alive. Presents wrapped in gold and silver with bows and iridescent ribbons piled high under the tree. I smiled to myself – someone else color coordinated Christmas. The strangled sobs of a young woman emanated from somewhere unseen to my right. They made me wish I were home. I’d even take my chances with Beatrice the mother-in-law from tinsel-hell. Sam seemed to emerge from an ornate wall, he hurried over to us.
We shook hands. He placed a large hand in the middle of my back, both to usher me forward and to keep me close so he could fill me in using suitably hushed tone. Lee stepped into place on the other side of me. We walked slowly, listening to Sam.
“At one this afternoon Judge Meaghan Hartwell disappeared from her chambers. She was supposed to pick up her four-year-old son from daycare at one twenty. She never showed.”
“Okay.”
“There was no sign of a struggle. Her car is still in the parking garage, her phone, purse and keys still in her desk drawer.”
Even though we were further away from the sad sobbing, I could still hear it.
“Who is the crying woman?”
“The Nanny. There is a uniformed police officer with her.”
“How likely that she’s involved?”
“In my opinion, she’s not.”
Good enough for me.
“Anyone see anything? CCTV?”
“We have footage of the judge in the hallway outside her office at five minutes past one with an unidentified male.”
“That’s something. Get an ID. Find him. Family?”
“Her husband, Peter Hartwell is…”
“…is a Special Agent.” I thought the name Judge Hartwell was too much of a coincidence. There aren’t too many agents married to judges. And with that information in hand, I knew why we were called. “Has there been any contact? Any ransom demands. Is there any chance she could have walked away from her life, on purpose?” I was sure there hadn’t, Sam would’ve told me that first.
“No, no, and no to the later.”
I stopped and surveyed the distraught man holding a small boy on his knee. They sat on a cream leather settee in front of us. I knew him. He knew me. This was no time for beating about the bush and taking it slowly.
“Peter –where is your wife?”
He held the boy tighter. “I don’t know.” He looked up at me, worry etched lines into his face.
“You’re certain?”
“Conway, I have no idea where my wife is.”
I wasn’t about to ask if he’d killed her in front of the child. Peter’s manner told me, he really had no idea. He wasn’t lying. Good to know. Spouses are always the first suspect, whether I know them or not.
“Where were you between one this afternoon and… when the daycare called you to pick up your son?”
Sam interjected, “Two. They called at two.”
“Working,” Peter replied.
“Case?”
“I’m investigating a cold case. Someone came forward with information, a missing person’s case from 1997.”
“Where exactly were you?” I asked.
He placed the child on the ground. The little boy looked up at me and smiled. “My name is Alec. I’m four,” he said holding up four fingers.
I smiled at him. “I’m Ellie and I’m too many to count,” I replied wiggling a hand full of fingers at him. He laughed and ran off.
Peter handed me his notebook. “I was interviewing a witness.”
“Great.” He had an alibi and I really wanted him to have one. I hauled up information from a case I’d studied once. It was an amazing blueprint of how scary stalkers can be. “Peter I hate to ask this, but how long ago was the stalker situation resolved. I remember you were placed under the protection of the US Marshalls and they put you both into WitSec, yes?”
WitSec is the witness protection program, witnesses to crime, people who testify in major cases, are given new lives. In this case, the judge, and her husband were placed in WitSec to keep them safe from a stalker who used to be a special agent. They spent three years being moved from place to place before being able to return to their former lives. One thing about us special agents, we make the best stalkers. We’re very good at finding people and have astounding resources.
“Yes,” he said. “We returned to our lives three and a half years ago. We picked up the pieces in Richmond then moved up here to DC.”
“Any chance this is related?”
“None,” he replied.
“Do you think this is about Meaghan or you?”
“I have no idea. I’ve given it a lot of thought in the last hour and a half. Mostly my work is cold cases. Meaghan works for the family court.”
“She’s a superior court judge?” Lee asked.
“Yes.”
“Has she reported or mentioned anything untoward in the last six months?” he questioned, his voice smooth and calming. I watched and listened to Peter’s reactions and answers.
“No. She made the move to family court because it was less likely that anyone would come gunning for her over granting an adoption or a divorce.”
“Less likely but not impossible,” Lee said and turned to Sam. “Is someone going over recent cases and psych reports?”
“Yes, Chrissy is in Judge Hartwell’s office now. She’s about half way through the cases from the last six months,” Sam replied. “She’s paying special attention to any cases with court ordered psychiatric assessments.”
Music built up slowly until I recognized the song. The title track of an album I loved. Jon Bon Jovi’s Destination Anywhere. I scanned the room, just making sure it was in my head and not coming from a stereo somewhere. The movie came to mind then twisted and warped, taking the underlying tragedy of the loss of a child and re-formulating it. A light went on in my head. Everything it illuminated was ugly. I had a horrible feeling this was revenge. And it was about Alec but it went wrong.
My questions came with urgency. “Does Meaghan spend much time with Alec. How much responsibility does the nanny have –day to day?”
I watched him swallow hard and knew he was trying to remain patient and helpful.
“Meaghan spends time with him every afternoon. Nanny has him in the mornings; she usually drops him at Meaghan’s office at lunchtime. Today –she had a dental appointment so took him to daycare at about eleven and Meaghan was to pick him up from there.”
“She drops him off at the office every day, except today?”
“Yes.”
A feeling of cold dread was building. My mind ran scenarios as fast as it could - building blocks of possibilities on the songs I could hear. I held onto the feeling of a lucky escape for Alec but it mingled with dread.
“Peter, you know how this goes, and I do understand how tough it is to be the case and not be working the case.” God knows I’ve been there before. “Sit tight. Can I chat with Alec? He might just hold the key.” The second reason we were called; Kids like me.
He nodded. “Alone?”
“Will that bother him?”
Peter shook his head. “I doubt it, he’s a happy kid and out-going.” He pointed to the hallway and told me how to find Alec’s room.
I looked at Sam and Lee. “I think we’re looking for someone who had access revoked recently, if that’s the case there is probably a police report attached to the court file. Or maybe this is someone who was turned down as an adoptive parent. Whoever it is I have a feeling the person is constantly at his or her lawyers complaining about every little thing while making themselves out to be whiter than snow.”
Sam smiled. “Must’ve been some song.”
“Was almost an entire album,” I replied. I was thankful I didn’t have to explain how I garnered so much information from an album that became a movie about grieving parents. I hurried off to find the boy. His door was open. He lay on a large rug playing with cars. One of those cool rugs that had streets and buildings woven in. I knocked. He looked up and smiled.
“Can I play too?” I asked.
“Okay. You can be the police car.”
I grinned and sat cross-legged on the floor. Alec gave me a car and pointed out the police station. I quickly learned just how bossy and imaginative four-year-olds could be. I let myself enjoy the game for a few minutes before asking questions. The game continued.
We chatted and played. With a loud sigh, Alec rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
“Yesterday at the park a man was playing with some kids in the sand pit.”
“Were they his kids?”
“I don’t know. They played with me on the swings.”
“What about the man, was he nice?”
“No. He said something to mommy and it made her cross and we had to leave.”
Bingo.
“Have you seen him before?”
He nodded and sat up. “He goes to the park a lot. By himself and he plays with kids.”
“Can you tell me what he looked like?”
Alec thought for some time. I saw he was struggling and offered help. “As old as your daddy?”
He shook his head. “Older, he had not much hair and wrinkles.”
“Like Sam out there?”
“Is he the black man with a shiny head?”
“Yes.”
“Older than him but some hair.”
I smiled Sam kept his head hair free and shiny. He was Mr. T without the Mohawk or a darker version of Kojak. Scenes from the A Team vied for position in my mind with Kojak, the battle of who was cooler began. I much preferred the Kojak opening scenes to the A team. Kojak won. Gimme a lollipop.
I pushed the intrusive lollipop thoughts away and asked Alec another question. “What shape was he?”
There was a struggle within Alec, visible in his eyes and his expression. “I’m not supposed to say things that can hurt someone’s feelings.”
“It’s okay Alec. You’re allowed to tell, it will help me.” He was so cute. Just a little boy still learning about social filters and how not everything we think needs to be vocalized, it’s not an easy thing to learn. I still find both feet in my mouth more often than not.
He whispered, “He was fat, and smelly.”
I suppressed a smile. Fat and smelly.
“Tall like daddy and my friends out there?”
He shook his head. I could see his mind working. “When mummy stood up, she was taller than him.”
“You’re very helpful, Alec. Very helpful.”
“I know.” He smiled. “The little boy called him something, a name, but I don’t know what it was. The little girl she called him Nonno.”
“Nonno?”
“Yes.”
“Can you remember what the boy said?” Interesting that the girl called him Nonno, Italian for grandfather.
He thought some more and shook his head. “No. I don’t think the boy liked the man. When the man tried to hold his hand he pulled it away and went and sat further away.”
“What about the girl, did she like him?”
He nodded. “I think so.” Alec took a ragged breath. “He was a mean man. I accidentally broke the girl’s sandcastle. I didn’t mean too, I fell over. He was mean.” Alec began to cry. “It’s all my fault. Mommy didn’t pick me up and it’s all my fault.”
I touched his shoulder. “No, it’s not. Come and see your daddy. I’m going to go and find your mommy. You have been very helpful.” I had my fingers crossed behind my back. I didn’t want to promise his mothers safe return but I knew that’s what he heard.
I took his hand and led him back to Peter. Peter scooped him up into his arms. I told everyone about the park.
Lee, Sam and I stepped away briefly. “We’re looking for a fat smelly man with very little hair, probably Italian origin – one child with him called him Nonno.”
Sam chuckled lightly. “Anything else?”
“Yeah – how tall is Judge Hartwell?”
Sam flipped some pages in his notebook. “Five foot six.”
“In that case we’re looking for a short, fat, smelly, balding man.” I heard my voice crackle but ignored it. I could laugh later once the judge was safe.
I walked back to Peter and Alec. “Alec was amazingly helpful.”
Sam and Lee joined me. It’s as if they knew I was in danger of bursting out laughing.
“I’m waiting for a call back have alerted Chrissy – and given the description,” Sam said with deadpan delivery. I couldn’t look at his face. I knew I’d see the glimmers of humor behind his eyes that no one else saw.
My phone rang. It was Chrissy. She had a name and an address for us. Cyril Maletta was the man we wanted to speak to. Judge Hartwell revoked all his access to his five-year-old grandson the morning before. The order was effective from December 24th.
Chrissy also sent me a picture our technicians had retrieved from the CCTV. I showed the picture to Peter and Alec. “Do you know him?”
Peter shook his head. Alec nodded his voice crumbled as he whispered, “That’s the mean fat smelly man.”
I looked at Peter. “I’d ask you to come, but Alec needs you. We’ll be back.”
Tears ran down Alec’s face. I shoved my hand in my jacket pocket and pulled out my orange iPod. I adjusted the volume for little ears and handed the ear buds to him. “Do you like Christmas songs Alec?”
He smiled. “Yes.”
I hit play on the movie screen and passed him the iPod. Moments later, his head was bobbing to Bon Jovi singing Run Rudolph Run.
“I’ll grab it when we get back. There’s nothing unsuitable on there – just Bon Jovi, Grange, Elvis and some Michael Bublѐ.”
“All things his mother listens to. Bring her home, Ellie.”
We both watched the boy for a second. Peter leaned closer and whispered, “You think he was going to take Alec?”
“I do.”
Sam, Lee and I lit out like scolded cats. Lee was on the phone as I snatched the keys from his hand and jumped into the driver’s seat. In my rearview mirror, I saw Sam slide into his car. We pulled out of the driveway with full lights and sirens. Lee snapped his phone shut and fastened his seatbelt. Good call.
“SWAT are on their way. I expect them to get there at least fifteen minutes before us.”
“In this weather on Christmas Eve – we’ll be lucky if we get there within half an hour.” Snow flurries made visibility tricky.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Lee’s hand reach for the radio on the dash. I knew what he was doing before he spoke. My focus was the road and the traffic – I listened to him speaking.
“This is Special Agent Lee Davenport. Requesting backup at Lindenbrook Street, Fairfax.”
The radio crackled then a voice erupted. “Fairfax police. We have two cars in the area, what do you need?”
“A road block, no one in or out of Lindenbrook except SWAT, FBI and police.”
“Message understood.”
Another crackle preceded a question, “All noise?”
“Negative. Stealth approach.”
“Message understood.”
As I drove, the radio buzzed and crackled. Police cruisers were responding from all over Fairfax County. We let comms field the rest of the calls. Ask and you shall receive. A song drifted then settled in my mind. Please come home for Christmas. I felt a weight on my shoulders that came from knowing I had to return a mom to her little boy, alive.
We approached Lindenbrook Street and a police cordon. The SWAT truck was already inside and standing by. They had control of the scene; more exactly Special Agent Danny Godwin was scene commander.
I zipped my jacket up against the freezing wind and the blowing snow. Lee, Sam, and I clambered into the mobile SWAT command center. It was cozy bordering on close.
“Hey Danny, seen any movement?” I asked.
“Hey Ellie - not yet. My team are trying to get cameras into the house now. How sure are you that your man is in there?”
“I’m not, but I’m hoping he’s home and has our missing judge with him.”
I saw his shoulders slump. “Ah crap doodle, I hoped it wasn’t really a hostage situation on Christmas Eve.”
“I think this Cyril Maletta man wanted to grab the judge’s kid but picked the wrong day.” I watched the computer screens. A picture popped up on one. It looked like a living room. There was a man pacing back and forth and someone sitting in a chair. We could only see the top of a head. “That could be her. Don’t suppose we can get a camera in on the other side of the room so we can see?”
Agent Godwin smiled. “We may be able to.” He spoke quietly into the headset he was wearing. Giving directions to get a camera where we could see the person in the chair. “They’ll do their best, it’s a matter of getting it in silently. Not easy if they have to drill a special hole. That camera there is utilizing a hole made by the phone company for a telephone line, under the house.”
Five minutes later another picture popped up on the screen. A clear picture of Meaghan Hartwell. Her hands taped to the chair arms. Her feet taped together at the ankles. Beyond her, a Christmas tree all lit up.
“Is he smoking?” I asked peering closer at the screen.
“Yes,” Lee replied. “He’s also got a gun in his back pocket.”
Danny pressed a few buttons on the keyboard in front of him. He gave us sound. Cyril was ranting at Meaghan. Going on and on about how he was the best role model for his grandson and how he should be allowed to see him whenever he wanted to. He waved in the direction of what we assumed was the Christmas tree and spoke of all the gifts he’d brought him. Meaghan remained silent, even when he yelled in her face. The man’s right hand strayed to his back pocket. Then relaxed.
“Let’s call him and get a dialogue going,” Lee suggested as we watched his hand reach for the gun again. “What’s his freaking name again?”
“Cyril Maletta. Screw that - take him out. Anyone got a shot?” I said looking at Danny. “He’s getting too worked up. I’m not risking the judge’s life.”
He spoke into his headset again. Second’s later word came back that two snipers had clear shots. ‘We have a non-fatal resolution.’
Danny looked at me and gave the order, “Take him.”
I watched the screen as the man toppled to the ground. Meaghan slowly looked up at the window but never made a sound.
“Let’s go,” I said pushing the command center door open. Wind pushed back. Ice stung my face.
“He’s down, wounded but not dead,” Danny called after us followed by, “He’s in custody and being removed.”
When we reached the living room, an agent was cutting the tape from Meaghan’s wrists and ankles. We waited. The room stunk of cigarette smoke, both fresh and stale. The furnishings were ingrained with years of tobacco smoke. It was unpleasant especially as I’d only given up myself less than a month ago. The stench strengthened my resolve to never smoke again. A new song played. I wish every day could be like Christmas. Sometimes it’s a shame no one else can hear my music.
Freed at last the woman stood and smiled as us. “I know you, don’t I?” she asked me.
“You do. We were all at Director O’Hare’s barbeque last summer. Are you all right?”
She nodded. “Alec?”
“Safe with Peter.”
She smiled. “He wanted Alec. He wanted to teach me what it was like to have someone take a child away.”
“I see he didn’t take your ruling well,” I replied. “Come this way…” I led her from the house. Outside in the fresh snowy air we could breathe without choking.
“He didn’t take it at all well. Pedophiles rarely do.” A paramedic wrapped a thick grey blanket around her shoulders. “Before you arrived he’d spent an hour telling me how much he loved his grandson and how the boy enjoyed his demonstrations of affection.” She wore a grim expression. “I just wish someone had listened to the child earlier. That depraved man’s lawyer had everyone believing he was a saint. It took a kindergarten teacher to uncover the truth and get the boy to talk.”
I shuddered. No one told me the guy was a pedophile, but then we didn’t have a lot of time. Priority was to bring the judge home safely. I looked at Lee; he shook his head in disgust. Guess he hadn’t heard either. I looked over at the gurney where the man lay. Alec was right. He was short, fat, balding, and smelly. There’s a winning combination in a man.
“Sam – can you follow the ambulance and get a statement from Maletta, then arrest him for kidnapping a superior court judge and post a guard. Lee and I will take Judge Hartwell back to her family,” I said.
Sam grinned. “My pleasure.” He checked his watch. “Your dad still making eggnog?”
“Hell yes. Get moving – can’t guarantee it will last long once Lee and I get home.”
I said goodbye and thank you to Danny and then to the police officers who answered our call for help. I extended an invitation to each member of SWAT and each police officer to come home for eggnog.
It was the least I could do.
***
I had a feeling Christmas wouldn’t be so bad after all. My feelings aren’t always right. There was no song warning me of impending doom when Eddie rolled in the back door of the Connelly’s house drunk at eight-thirty in the morning. His short chubby wife, wearing four-inch-stilettos, what appeared to be stage makeup and the smallest dress I’d ever seen, followed him. I didn’t know fabric could stretch that far without ripping. A wardrobe malfunction was imminent and vowed to be the hell out of the way when it happened. Their two fat almost teenage kids barreled in behind them and headed right for the Christmas tree.
Bob Connelly grabbed them before they could rip into the presents and sent them off to sit on one of the large couches with a candy cane each.
Like they needed more sugar.
It was going to be a day to forget. Eddie and Angie sat on opposite chairs. Eddie slurped a beer. Angie batted her long fake eyelashes at Mac. My father and brother talked to Bob. Beatrice banged about in the kitchen refusing all offers of help. The kids fought over presents they hadn’t seen yet.
Mac pulled me closer so I was leaning against him. He whispered in my ear, “What’s under your sweater?”
I giggled, “Shouldn’t you know?”
“Smart ass. You’re carrying.” He tapped my side with his fingers.
“Maybe…”
“Maybe’s ass. You wore a gun to Christmas dinner…”
“Eddie is here, hello. You think I want to be unarmed with that drunken octopus in the room?”
I settled back and watched the chaos unfold in front of me. Beatrice came in yelling about the ham not being right. Eddie fell off his chair. The kids punched each other. Bob separated them. The fat boy snatched a present, opened it and threw the contents at his father. Angie spent the whole morning trying to attract Mac’s attention. Every now and then, my hand strayed to my hip and rested on the butt of my Glock.
Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.
Next year it’ll be at our house with a strictly limited guest list. Us.
The End.
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This is a work of fiction.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons,
living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2009 by Cat Connor
This book may not be reproduced in whole or part, by any means, without permission.
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Saturday, 29 January 2011
Ssh! I'm Reading.
Gavin Pugh of NextRead & My Favourite Books & I (Adele) interrupt your reading to bring you a fantastic new genre podcast.
The Episode 1 Part 1 of ‘Shh I’m Reading’ introduces a discussion of facts and internal world logic in fiction with awesome BFS Award winning authors Sarah Pinborough and Conrad Williams.
Pt 2, later in February, features the Miniature Book Club, highlighting short stories from print and audio, along with great places to find free fiction; with Sharon Ring of Dark Fiction Magazine kicking things off as our first guest. We also have Gollancz’s Jon Weir discussing his Fiction Fetish with us.
Look out for the first part of 'Ssh, I'm Reading' on the 1st of Feb in the sidebar!
FlashForward | Robert J Sawyer
by Robert J Sawyer
pub Gollancz
Out now
'We are all interested in the future, for that is where you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives'
(plan 9 from outer space)
What if everyone in the world was.. absent, for just under two minutes? What if during that time everyone's consciousness jumped forward a little over twenty years? Tantalizing glimpses of the future, but not for everyone. Not everyone will be alive in just over twenty years, not according to the visions. So can the future be changed? Can one of the scientists responsible for the Flashforward avoid his own death and how does the world cope when an event happens on a global scale, dropping planes from the sky and killing millions. No one is left unaffected by the event, yet life has to go on.
It's a great concept and really was perfect for a TV series. It hooked me in straight away and as the key characters, scientists Theo and Lloyd and the people around them try to make sense of what happened, whether their actions at CERN caused it and what it means, the reader is pulled into their personal tragedies and searches.
I don't want to give anything away, but the search to make sense of it all at various levels, personal, corporate and global is well balanced, the characters engaging enough to engender sympathy and the snatches of the future suggest a nice blend of familiar reality and more futuristic visions. The handling of the press and the corporate desire for CERN to cover itself legally, the appetite of humanity to know it's future, all helped sell the reality, Sawyer tapped into reactions a reader can believe in. Added to that were some deeper questions, if you know you are never going to achieve your dreams, is life worth living anymore? Can the future be changed? Is free will an illusion? Some thought provoking moments.
The story moves quickly, covering events in just over three hundred pages and since I wanted to know what happened when time caught up with the visions I got through it in one sitting. There are one or two moments at the end that go very sci fi which didn't blend perfectly for me as the rest of the book feels very grounded in reality and people, it was fun though so didn't detract overall.
It's a hugely entertaining novel, well written, based around a superb idea and yes, i'm still wondering whether I would want to see the future, though knowing my luck i'd be asleep.
I'm pleased to announce that an interview with Robert will be running on Tuesday!
Thursday, 27 January 2011
Emma Vieceli, British Comic Artist Interview (Pt 2)
You’ve done the ‘How To…’ books as well. Opinions on them?
Well… our personal ‘How To’ books or generally?
In general as well but…
We were proud of what we did. Sweatdrop’s done a couple now and I still think… because obviously we drew them a long time ago so as artists individually we’re better at what we do now. But that said I think what we’re proud of is that at the time it was this buzz of publishers releasing these books but so much of it was coming from people who either were Disney artists or people who… were artists without a doubt, but back in the day when it was all this is Manga and this is this… but that’s a whole other story of how I feel about that.
What we wanted to do was not have one artist teaching people how to draw like, “draw like me“, we wanted to give people a foundation and give an example like look at how differently even just the people in sweat drop draw. Don’t feel you have to draw in one way. So I still think that even though they’re older books now, those books are still a good example of showing people that if you’re drawing comics you’ve got to draw comics how you want to draw. [Sweatdrop’s book] had about twelve creators or something involved with it so it’s really varied. Hopefully it inspired people that there’s no one way to draw.
Awesome, gosh you’ve been really busy… do you want to talk about Violet?
For the DFC! The last few years have been so crazy, you bring up projects and I’m like “Oh yeah!” I loved doing Violet, that was one I wrote. David Fickling is a star, and basically the DFC… there’s a few of the creator’s downstairs (at MCM), they’re an incredible, energetic bunch of creatiors who came together to make the DFC which was a new project, something like the Beano. The Beano’s still awesome at what it does but this was a whole new slew of characters and stories. A load of creators got brought in, my friend Kate was involved in that as well. We were allowed to just add new stories, and we would pitch these stories until we found one that worked, and the editors worked with us to get them to the right kind of format.
The one I submitted was Violet who was this eleven year old girl… no she was twelve at the beginning! She turns 13 and when she turns thirteen this crazy power manifests in her. When she was a kid her best friend’s dad was a crazy scientist. They were playing in his lab and some goo fell on her head! But it was only when she was thirteen that it kind of activated. She has this crazy super-strength but she’s also very clumsy.
Recipe for disaster!
Exactly! But even though it’s a kid’s story… I mean it was just crazy fun, but there was a twist in it by the end and I was really looking forward to moving onto series two when I could then elaborate on that. Sadly the DFC closed after about eight months because we timed it just in time for the recession! It was a real shame, but we still even now, two years or something after it was released we get letters from kids who were reading the series, saying “When am I gonna get to read more about Violet?” it’s so sweet. I mean it had such a loyal bunch of kids following it.
Actually David Fickling’s now putting together the DFC library books which are stunning, glossy, printed books. They’re coming out in beautiful compiled volumes. At the moment I don’t have plans for Violet because, well… I just don’t have time! But the DFC library books are amazing and the team behind them are so energetic. Everyone, if you see them at the bench you should go and say hi and tell them how much I love them!
Cons. You’ve had a crazy, crazy Summer!
Mm!
France, Ireland, then you’re organizing this [MCM] as well!
Yeah!
How did you get involved in all of this? What was the idea behind getting into them in the first place?
Well, originally of course, like a lot of people I went to comic conventions because I’m a comic fan and I like comics… and especially back when I started going it was before the world had been geekified! Cause it kinda has been now but back then the world was a very normal, boring place, and maybe twice a year you could go to a hotel with a load of like-minds and completely geek out. You felt like you were in a holiday camp for a weekend.
So I just started as a fan and then I made that changeover to “Oh, I’m a creator now?” but most creators are fans as well. It’s still a big club but you end up hanging around with other creators more as well as other fans. And now I’ve reached that next stage where sometimes I’m lucky enough to get invited to go to conventions…
On the panels!
On the panels! Which is amazing, and that’s why the last couple of months have got a bit crazy. I was in Ireland for the… brain, work… I was there a little while ago for the 2D festival and then I was there for… Electric Picnic! An amazing music festival that had different stages and comic stages, a magic experience. I was in Paris for the Paris Manga event, and then New York obviously for New York Comic Con.
(A liiiiittle bit in awe) What was that like?
That one I still very much go to as a fan! I get to meet a lot of friends when I’m out there but I also go just for the experience of going “Woah! New York Comic Con!” Obviously the Expo where we are now is probably the closest thing in the UK to something like that but we’re still a third the size I think. So imagine this times three for New York.
(At this point my face has disintegrated to a slack-jawed mess)
I mean , to be fair, I like the size of Expo, I think it’s a manageable size, and the UK is very small!
The trains on the way here though, you can’t move!
I don’t think we’d cope with one much bigger than this! To get 45,000 people in all over one weekend in the UK is pretty impressive! But yeah, New York is heaving. Really, really heaving, but I love the city as well, it’s a fantastic place. Yeah a lot of conventions recently. Tragically… well, you’re always torn… I’m happy to be so busy, obviously I’m happy to be busy but I’ve had to actually turn down a completely all-expenses-paid trip to Malta! For their Comic Con! I couldn’t believe having to say no!
Well I’m not actually a very good traveller. I like being at home, I like being able to get on with my pages if I’ve got comics to do, but going to conventions and meeting readers and fans reminds you why you’re doing it. If you’re sitting there working on comics all the time it’s great but obviously you get a bit lonely and you can lose that connection to the outside world. But when you go to a convention and you see how excited people are to be reading your work it’s like “Yes! This is why I sit on my own for most of the year!”
Any… oh, hold on… Sorry I’ve been skipping around my notes a bit! Um… (more slightly famous brainfarting) Any shameless plugs you fancy sticking in there?
Well we’ve mentioned a lot of them! I think! Well yeah, watch out obviously for Dragon Heir please! Cause that’s my baby! Avalon Chronicles book one! Called “Once in a Blue Moon” I believe… I think it’s out at San Diego [Comic Con] next year unless we can get anything sooner, I don’t know yet but it’s definitely out next year.
Watch out for that one if you like well, A- my artwork! And B- it’s just such a cool story about Dragons and… actually I’ve not even told you what these books are about! Avalon Chronicles is about taking the cliché idea of a girl going through a book into another world. Quite a fantastic…
“Lost in Austen” type thing?
Yeah, that kind of concept. But the way the guys have written it is, it’s so grounded in real life. There’s a big twist to what the book is and how it’s connected to her world. It’s a book she grew up reading as a kid that her parents would read to her… I’m trying to think what I can say without giving stuff away but this book becomes a lot more than she thinks it was and her parents are not what she thought they were. Her role becomes a lot bigger than she ever intended and the great thing about the main character is that she’s just one of us.
There’s this one bit that just cracked me up when I read the script the first time -without saying too much there’s a… magical thing that keeps being in different locations and of course there’s a magical little old man going “we’re everywhere” and she’s going “Like Visa?” and he’s going “No… not like Visa… it’s magic.“ she’s very real world and it’s seeing her reactions to things and seeing how she changes. So that’s scratching my teenage itch for fantasy and dragons… then obviously Vampire Academy is scratching the other teenage itch for drawing sexy vampires!
What’s not to love about sexy vampires?
And it’s a great story. I read the books. They’re really good books and it feels a bit like reading Harry Potter with vampires instead of wizards, a bit older and sexier. That’s basically the kind of setting of it but that simplifies it a lot. You’ve got the relationships between the characters but what I love that Rachelle’s done is that at the bottom of it there’s this other storyline that’s much bigger, overarching story which is more about their society and what is coming. You get this real sense that something very big is coming. You’ve got the relationships and stuff with some, uh… pretty fanciable characters! I’m reading the books, there’s still one more book to go in the novels and I can’t wait!
They’re pretty good.
They are fun. For me, drawing them, it’s quite nerve wracking cause I know that Rachelle has a lot of followers and people who love the series, and especially a character like Demetri, he’s every woman’s perfect man, but of course every woman has a different vision of their perfect man! So what we’re aiming for when making the books, I want to draw what Rachelle sees because they’re her characters hoping that if I can make them look how Rachelle sees them then that should translate to the readers. They’re her babies so they‘ve got to look how she wants them to look. I just hope people love the drawn characters as much as the written characters!
It’s great that she’s going for Graphic Novels rather than Film.
Yeah, well I wouldn’t be surprised if they made a film at all. It would translate to film quite well, I think. But I’m really chuffed they’ve done a graphic novel. What’s lovely is that Rachelle announced it at San Diego and she was even saying it on her blog that she had really big exciting news about Vampire Academy, and a lot of people were assuming “Oh, it’s gonna be a film!” But the fact that happy to pimp it that much and then say “Actually it’s a graphic novel” which she’s genuinely excited about, an d then the fans were like “Actually, graphic novel, awesome!” So I love that people were getting just as excited that it’s getting a comic, not just a film.
Not been Twilighted!
Oh God, don’t. It is going to get all the twilight comparisons… I confess I’ve not actually read Twilight!
… I have… but Twilight was one of the latest in a long line of vampire romances and… by no means the best.
Oh, really? …Well obviously I’m aware that there’s a lot of vampires around at the moment. Even when I say I’m working on Vampire Academy people ask “oh, the Vampire Diaries?”
House of Night?
The Vampire’s Assistant? Oh there’s so many! And why not? Vampire’s are cool. This one though, I wouldn’t be drawing it if I didn’t think there was a lot to it. That it would work really well as a comic. I love the characters.
Well that’s all I have for today… anything else you want to talk about?
Um… I’ll l probably think of something as soon as you go! Um, please drop by my website and check out my updates when I can update… yeah just looking forward to seeing what people think of the books!
Okay! Thank you very much.
Tuesday, 25 January 2011
A Tribute to Jack Young
Ravenous Wednesday has been going on for about a year now, I guess, maybe longer. Ever since we started we've had a few regular visitors and posters who have made up the core of a very special group of writers, readers, friends and fans. Without taking away from anyone else in the group, I think hands down we all had a favorite: Jack Young.
I 'met' Jack years ago after he emailed me about a story of mine he'd read on Homepageofthedead.com. I emailed back and thus our friendship was born, started over a mutual passion for zombie fiction and film, bolstered by our respective love of animals (especially cats), and continually fed by Jack's optimistic spirit, kindness and passion for literature and life. He supported my writing, picked up my spirits when I was down with his insightful and enthusiastic comments, and always made me feel that it was a two way street and that our friendship brought something positive to his life as well. It didn't matter that we'd never actually met in person. As Adele said, it's the impact a person makes on your life that counts and not necessarily the time spent sitting next to them. And Jack's impact on my life was huge and 100 percent positive.
Jack was a regular visitor to Un:Bound. He added to the conversation every time, the kind of guest you want to have at any occasion. We all loved his comments so much that I asked him to be our special guest and write a post for the rest of us to enjoy. In Jack's honor and memory, I'm rerunning his Halloween post below and leaving up all the comments that were posted in response so you all can get an idea of why Jack Young was so special. Please add to the comments below with your own memories and thoughts of Jack.
I don't feel I'm doing him justice at all right now... but I know all of you who shared the Un:Bound RR Wednesday virtual parties with Jack know what I mean.
I'm cracking open a bottle of bubbly to celebrate Jack's life and the joy he brought to all of us. Jack, here's to you. You will be missed more than I can possibly express.
It's October, and most of my thoughts turn to "the other side" of things. You
know what I mean. It's called by many names: the Dark Side, the Other World, the Happy Hunting Ground, and, yes, the Land of the Dead.
I was born, you see, the day after Halloween, and to a child this meant the time of endless goodies: Trick or treating the night before and a lot of birthday goodies the next day.
Only with time did I come to a second conclusion, mainly that Halloween had marked me, even though I escaped birth on that day by merely two hours.
How was I marked?
Well I've always been overly interested in ghost stories (beyond that of the average child my age). Make a reference to a spooky event and you have my solid attention. I still never tire of hearing about someone's weird or paranormal experience, and I never tire of reading pure ghost stories, either fiction or non-fiction.
I 'met' Jack years ago after he emailed me about a story of mine he'd read on Homepageofthedead.com. I emailed back and thus our friendship was born, started over a mutual passion for zombie fiction and film, bolstered by our respective love of animals (especially cats), and continually fed by Jack's optimistic spirit, kindness and passion for literature and life. He supported my writing, picked up my spirits when I was down with his insightful and enthusiastic comments, and always made me feel that it was a two way street and that our friendship brought something positive to his life as well. It didn't matter that we'd never actually met in person. As Adele said, it's the impact a person makes on your life that counts and not necessarily the time spent sitting next to them. And Jack's impact on my life was huge and 100 percent positive.
Jack was a regular visitor to Un:Bound. He added to the conversation every time, the kind of guest you want to have at any occasion. We all loved his comments so much that I asked him to be our special guest and write a post for the rest of us to enjoy. In Jack's honor and memory, I'm rerunning his Halloween post below and leaving up all the comments that were posted in response so you all can get an idea of why Jack Young was so special. Please add to the comments below with your own memories and thoughts of Jack.
I don't feel I'm doing him justice at all right now... but I know all of you who shared the Un:Bound RR Wednesday virtual parties with Jack know what I mean.
I'm cracking open a bottle of bubbly to celebrate Jack's life and the joy he brought to all of us. Jack, here's to you. You will be missed more than I can possibly express.
It's October, and most of my thoughts turn to "the other side" of things. You
know what I mean. It's called by many names: the Dark Side, the Other World, the Happy Hunting Ground, and, yes, the Land of the Dead.I was born, you see, the day after Halloween, and to a child this meant the time of endless goodies: Trick or treating the night before and a lot of birthday goodies the next day.
Only with time did I come to a second conclusion, mainly that Halloween had marked me, even though I escaped birth on that day by merely two hours.
How was I marked?
Well I've always been overly interested in ghost stories (beyond that of the average child my age). Make a reference to a spooky event and you have my solid attention. I still never tire of hearing about someone's weird or paranormal experience, and I never tire of reading pure ghost stories, either fiction or non-fiction.
Have I had such experiences myself? I have not but have learned to trust certain people who have. You can usually tell when someone is "performing" or relating a particularly shocking experience. Am I really this naive? Probably. But again when someone such as Dana describes an experience at ghost hunting (as she does in her MC article Hunting Ghosts) then I have no reason to believe that she is not telling the truth. ( She also gives a personal experience from her childhood in Things That Go Bump describing an incident which would have sent me on a screaming run. She recognizes that the experience may have been "more of gravy than grave" but still shows a strength beyond what any other child might have done.)
One of the attractions of RR for me is that several novels and stories step across the border from the "normal" (whatever that is) into the so-called "paranormal". Ghosts, shamen, wiccans, incubi and succubi,and, lately, zombies wander in and out like "normal" travellers wander through strange and foreign cities. The authors certainly write as though such "interventions" were possible. Are these stories based on genuine experience? You'd have to ask them. Certainly they all reflect the belief that such things just might be.But belief is not necessary for a good ghost or horror story. The greatest practitioners of this particularly "dark art" did not: H. P. Lovecraft, Robert E. Howard, M. R. James, H. R. Wakefield, E. F. Benson did not. M. R. James went so far as to declare himself ready to hear the evidence and consider it. HPL ( who adopted the philosophy of atheism) certainly did not. (How ironic that his major creation The Necronomicon, has become "Sacred Scripture" of certain occultists, who have had to actually write the book in order to give it the reality it never actually possessed. HPL must be spinning in his grave at Swan Point Cemetery.)
Stories are motivated by the characters in them. They're about people attempting to get through lives with the usual worries, struggles (financial and otherwise) while hopefully finding that the much touted concept of "love" is as real and sweet as it is cracked up to be. The intrusion of the paranormal can add to these burdens, though sometimes it can actually prove the hidden solution to most of the character's problems. Presuming it exists at all (and the jury is still out) the paranormal is simply another factor of life on this planet and not always a negative factor. As with most speculative fiction, there is much territory still to explore.
My own preference as a reader is for the spooky, the scary, the dark shadow which reaches from wherever to produce the chill which turns into "goose flesh". Stories of the flesh eating dead which, by the way, is one of our oldest and darkest nightmares. It's enshrined, for example in the oldest epic of the lot: The epic of Gilgemesh. (Which also produced the earliest account of a massive world wide flood which comes down to us as the story of Noah in the Bible.)
So to all of you who practice "the dark art" of spooky fantasy, this reader while preferring to be scared out of his gourd bids you to write what you see of this as yet unknown world impinging upon ours.
What the...! Just thought I heard someone whining (or was that screaming) outside somewhere. Probably just the wind. There IS a storm kicking up.
Sure. Just the wind.Or maybe not. I'm glad the doors are all locked. I should be safe enough. Now to continue my book: Stephen King's IT, just in case you were wondering....
See you around. Maybe.
Sunday, 23 January 2011
Emma Vieceli, British Comic Artist Interview (Pt 1)
Sorry if the length annoys you, I didn't want to cut anything out!!!
Hello! Welcome to Un:Bound
Hello Un:Bound!
Um, Starting with Manga Shakespeare- how did you get into that?
Manga Shakespeare, for me it was quite a nerve-wracking thing cause Hamlet was actually the first professional thing I’d ever done. So we’re talking kind of six years ago now. And at the time I’d been making comics for fun through Sweatdrop for years like just as a hobby. Even now the Sweatdrop stuff I do is really just for myself; it’s completely self indulgent. But actually at university I did English Literature and Performing Arts so I studied Shakespeare a lot.
When I left university I actually was a performer for a while so I was acting in Shakespeare. Going into comics you’d have thought I’d escaped Shakespeare and then we heard about this new company that was starting up and looking to do comic adaptations of Shakespeare. I just thought “Wow, imagine that!” I’d actually done my dissertation on Shakespeare in education and I didn’t even consider the idea of comics. So there was an opportunity, I thought I’d give it a try and Hamlet was one of my favourite plays so I did a pitch and got lucky and got the job!
So myself and Sonia Leong who did Romeo and Juliet were the first to launch. It was a really surreal and exciting time. At the time I had a full time job in a video game company! I think I’ve worked everywhere in the world… I remember thinking this was just one book, it’s very exciting but I’ve not enough to go freelance with this big scary step, and then as other things started happening towards the end of the Hamlet contract I made that leap and I thought “Wow I guess I’m a comicker now” Crazy… But I’m really chuffed with [Manga Shakespeare] and the company Self Made Hero have brought out so many books in so short a time that we literally went from Hamlet and Romeo and Juliet to now there being like fourteen Manga Shakespeare books. I’ve done two now, Hamlet and Much Ado About Nothing a couple of years later…
That’s my favourite
Really? Awesome, yeah I love Much Ado about Nothing and it works so well as a comic. Hamlet was fun but Much Ado was made to be a comic it really was- the timing, the characters… I just really enjoyed drawing it, it was great fun. Plus I got to set it in Bagnone which is where my family’s from in Italy. It’s actually where I got married! So the wedding at the end is actually the garden where I got married! So yeah, the family read through the book and spot places. That vista you get at the beginning, the town up in the mountains is Bagnone! For me it was quite personal being able to do that as well.
Awesome, you’ve kind of covered it but with the Manga Shakespeare did Self Made Hero approach you or did you contact them…?
I don’t know how they got a list of people at the beginning because obviously we’re going back six years which, looking around at the [MCM] expo weekend here it’s hard to remember that six years ago none of this was around really- it was as much smaller scene. I think it was Paul Gravett who had put forward some names and I know he spoke to Sonia about it and looking back it may have been her [who mentioned me] as one of those word of mouth things. Some people where hearing about it, like “would you like to…” so I just thought “Yeah you know,“I’ll give it a try it sounds exciting.”. It’s hard to remember exactly how it came about but I’m sure we probably have Paul to thank somewhere along the line.
It’s a massive team effort you all seem to know each other pretty well
In Manga Shakespeare? Yeah it’s lovely because wherever you are the publishers are awesome anyway; they’re really sweet guys and for me and Sonia we feel like we’ve known them a long time now. We’ve watched them go from these very brave publishers… it was just Emma being very brave and trying this crazy idea , to then her winning young publisher of the year and they’re doing so well.
We know them very well, and then the other artists have been involved from recommendations where someone has known someone else who they think would work. Yeah I think most of the artists do know each other- especially recently we’ve had people like Faye Yong who’s another Sweatdrop member and then Lee who’s a friend of ours. They’re both very talented… it’s a pretty small comic scene anyway really so everyone knows everyone and Self Made Hero’s kind of a mini family within a family.
Excellent. So Sweatdrop as well, was that a branching off of… knowing each other? Or was it again something where you were approached?
Well Sweatdrop came first. Sweatdrop predates… most stuff you see around. It’s really weird for us to realize we’ve actually been going for ten years and it’s really weird for us to think back. The reason we were formed is because it was a time in the UK -this is before Tokyo pop , before the Japanese Embassy was backing… anything like that.
It was at a time when there were literally just a few fan artists who would make their own comics and go to shows on their own. One of them being Laura Watton who was someone I used to read about. Sweatdrop was formed on the premises that a few of those artists at those tiny shows were saying “we’re paying for tables why don’t we get a table together?” And then someone suggested we get a website.
When I first joined the group it was all through Yahoo! Groups and we had a little forum so members could talk to each other and it’s literally grown from there. We started because there was purely no one publishing this stuff at all in the UK so it was a hobby and a way of printing our stuff. Then over the years not only has sweatdrop grown but we also have a much bigger community in the UK now.
Exactly- just look outside!
I know! And through… not saying for a second that it’s only Sweatdrop obviously a lot of people have helped, but we would do things like Tokyopop and we were some of the people encouraging them to bring rising stars to the UK, we spoke with the Japanese Embassy and obviously Self Made Hero.
There's been a real movement over the last ten years with those few people at the beginning helping it grow. We feel like the dinosaurs now and we’re still here! Making our comics! And a lot of our members are now working professionally for other publishers. A lot of people actually mistake Self Made Hero for Sweatdrop and think they do the Manga Shakespeare and it’s just Sweatdrop members who do them- Self Made Hero are the Publishers.
Collaborations. You’ve done a couple of… um, what am I saying? (insert babbling because I’ve lost the word)
Anthologies?
Yes!
Through Sweatdrop we do quite a lot of anthologies, and collaboration-wise I’ve worked with a few other artists now and when I first started, our niche part of the scene, it was all very much I write my own stories, I draw my own stories, but I’ve also been a huge fan for years of all comics and I really get annoyed with all this categorization and signature lark. Of course there’s areas of the industry where it’s all very much a conveyor belt thing where someone pencils, someone inks, someone colours… and stepping outside of my comfort zone has been really great cause I’ve been able to work with other people. I’ve done a back up story for the Phonogram comics that Keiron Gillen writes and Jamie McKelvie draws, so I got to draw a story that Keiran scripted.
I’ve done a little bit of work with Marvel , so having a writer and a colourist, and a letterer! For me it’s so exciting having this conveyor belt thing going on and realizing that this end product is not just my page- this is a collective page. In fact at the moment I’m working with two publishers, penguin and oni press. With oni press I’m doing everything art wise and someone else lettering it, but then with penguin I’m only doing up to the inks level then there’s a colourist and letterer. It’s odd seeing my work after it’s been added to by other people.
I’ve done collaborations before- I’ve worked with Faye Yong on the work for Comic book tattoo, and a few bits for France like the My Little Pony stuff where I’ve had friends like Kate Brown who is an incredible artist and I then had her as my colourist for My Little Pony! We said we were farting rainbows for a few months! And I’ve had Chloe Satrine and Tara Duncan. I’m really enjoying working with other people.
You're got Avalon Chronicles and The Vampire Academy series, released in 2011. Are you enjoying working with other stories?
Yeah definitely. I just love drawing comics really, I got into comics originally because I wanted to be a storyteller- I wrote stories and wanted to tell my own stories. That’s really how a lot of people get into it, but you start to find that getting into comics if you want to be making money then you should be working for other people and other people’s stories. Which at the beginning I think, a part of me was going “But I’d be drawing other people’s stories!” and then I had to get over myself and realize, “Hang on, other people’s stories are really cool!” and I’m really lucky to be able to draw these! With Avalon actually I’m really lucky because they’re amazing writers, used to writing for comics they’ve got a good grasp of how a script can compliment an art page, the script’s just a joy to work with.
But they’re so sweet and because they know that I write anyway they said at the beginning of the project that they wanted me involved with it. They said “here’s what we’ve got as the beginning of the story it’s a four book series so lets work together on the story” so although I’m not scripting it I got to contribute and we really just brainstormed the whole story.
I know exactly where the story’s going and I feel a lot of ownership you know I’ve created a few characters and I’m responsible for the death of a few characters! They’re my babies as well which means that although it’s someone else’s script I feel real ownership of it and I’m so grateful that they’ve let me do that. Obviously with Penguin… Penguin Academy? That’s a whole different book! With Vampire Academy, that’s Richelle Mead’s story. Thankfully, and quite luckily I’m a huge fan of her story and love the books so in that case, nothing to do with me in terms of the story but I’m absolutely loving drawing it because I love the books so much.
You’ve got the idea then, of the characters and stuff?
Yeah I’m already halfway with pencils and we’ve now started inks as well… things are manic at the moment! So, so busy… with both, cause both are series as well so it’s manic. I’m used to, as a freelancer, I’m used to something like Manga Shakespeare- getting a book, working head down for six or eight months then you’ve got a book out. With Oni press especially I finish the first book then it’s straight on to the next one and the next one.
Quite a commitment!
It is! It’s great, you know, such a lucky position to be in but it’s a lot of work so it’s lucky that I love it so much. Both turn out the first book… the deadlines are the same time!
No prioritizing then?
No, not really. I love both. I’ve been doing this six years and not managed to miss a deadline yet so I have every confidence. But it is a real challenge, I’m stepping up to it and loving it but it is a challenge.
Then you’ve got Dragon Heir as well, which is completely yours! Including the shiny gold on the cover…
I own that gold! Yeah I was so happy with how that timing worked out actually; when I was waiting for the scripts for Avalon and Vampire Academy to come through I thought “This is the time” because I’d been working on it for years.
The original issues with it were obviously the fumbling first steps of someone who is literally doing it as a hobby with no intention of it becoming anything bigger. As the series has gone on issue six, I think was the first one I did after Hamlet and issue eight, I think I did after Much Ado about Nothing, so each thing I’ve done professionally has taught me new skills which I then bring back to Dragon Heir.
The result is that the Dragon Heir issues were getting more and more competent. So by the time I got to issue nine I realized that people were coming to the series and going “Oh great, this is brilliant where can I read issue one?" That was the point where I’d go “No! You can’t! You can’t read issue one!”
While waiting for these scripts to come through I thought if I was going to do this , this is the time to do it, so I went back and just blitzed through the whole first five issues so there’s a good hundred and forty pages of brand new material in there that I re-scripted the whole thing. And then it picks up at issue six, which although issue six is still old, it’s at least post-Hamlet. Dated but readable. I was able to go back, release it as a web comic and then print this master volume. This is Dragon Heir so far., here it is from the beginning of the story. I managed to get it printed about a week before my scripts arrived. I’ve got my own baby that I can be selling while doing things for other people.
Any idea when it’s going to carry on? You’ve left it on such a cliffhanger!
I know! Even when I went back and read that book I got to the end and I was like “Nooo! Is that all I got up to?” Cause the whole thing’s written. It’s not like people need to wait for me to actually write the whole thing; it’s completely written.
I’ve actually drawn about fifteen pages of issue ten. It’s literally just when I have time. It’s not going to peter off in one of those “I couldn’t be bothered to finish it” things it is finished and I cannot wait to get that story out there. The first book meets the characters, sets them off on their journey, you see where things have gone wrong. The cliffhanger at the end is just a taster really.
The first book is the prophecy attempting to happen and now… there’s so much happens in the second book, there’s a lot of things that have been hinted at that are gonna become a lot bigger in the second book. I can’t wait! I just need more time in the day.
I’m just waiting for you to tell me what’s going to happen!
Maybe when we’re not recording!
You can find out more about Emma Vieceli and her newly revealed mystery Project Number 3 at her workblog where she keeps all her work history and you can buy her books (HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!)
Pt2 will be posted on Thursday :)
Sunday Story All I Wanted Was You | Cat Connor
All I wanted was you
By Cat Connor (as told by Mac Connelly)
“Mac!” Caine hollered from the darkest of the shadows in the parking lot. “Mac!”
I cracked the window a few inches and called back, “What?”
Ellie’s SAC, Caine Grafton, hurried over to my car and leaned down by my window. “Keep your cell phones on.” He sounded tightly wound but it wasn’t without reason.
“Okay,” I replied.
“Be alert. Watch for a tail,” he said, his voice vibrating low in his throat. “Do I have to remind you how to drive?”
“No, sir,” I replied, and could see why Ellie said he growled when he spoke.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, boy.” Caine looked past me to Ellie. “I want that report tomorrow. I want to know what other freaks from that chat room of yours could be lurking out here.”
She replied tiredly, “You’ll have my report first thing. I’ll email it.”
“Mind how you go.” He pulled back a bit and spoke to me, “Mac, I want to know what you know about this chat room too.” Caine slapped the roof of the car. I nodded, zapped the window closed, and waved over my shoulder as I drove out of the lot and the hell away from the Interscape Café. I didn’t care if I ever saw another internet café; in fact, I hoped I never did.
Ellie’s head was bobbing almost as soon as we left Lexington. I glanced at her but fell short when it came to saying anything. She rested her head on the passenger window; with eyes closed, she seemed almost peaceful. I left her to sleep and concentrated on the long drive back up to Fairfax.
A light misty rain had been falling for some time; the roads were slick. The headlights played across the wet surface. Streaks of light illuminated the centerline.
We weren’t in any particular hurry and night driving wasn’t something I enjoyed. I found myself a little more mindful of the conditions and the speed limit than normal.
Even so, my mind wandered into the tediousness of the journey. Ellie slept. A yawn escaped.
I switched the radio on, setting the volume low. I’d hit upon an eighties segment and recognized the opening of Bon Jovi’s I Want You. It struck me as peculiarly fitting. Strange thoughts flowed from the darkness. Would we ever talk together in the chat room again? Or would we just pick up the phone and call? We did a lot of that anyway, but it was still fun chatting online during the late nights. Everything had changed. For the next week at least, we were going to be in the same house. Something unexpected tugged at me as I realized I would miss seeing Otherwisecat has signed in on my messenger – it was an odd sense of loss that I hadn’t prepared for.
I checked my mirrors. We were almost alone on the road, two cars away back behind us and one about forty yards ahead. In my mind, I could clearly see the little messenger pop-up. Consoling myself with the idea that we could still do that once things returned to normal, telephone or not, even if it was just for old time’s sake and fun, took the edge off slightly. Four months ago, all we had was the internet, then a bolt from the blue pulled us to the same place at the same moment in time. She was wearing a white tee shirt, dark blue jeans that day, had a gun on her hip, and an FBI badge hung around her neck on a black lanyard. White suited her well. She swept her blonde hair back behind her shoulders; it shone as it tumbled down her back, ending in soft waves an inch or above her waist. Her blue eyes danced with amusement under bangs that just grazed her eyebrows.
She laughed at me.
She laughed with me.
The day drifted into evening, flowed into night, and I hated knowing we had to say goodbye.
I sighed to myself, dragging my mind back to the road as I fumbled one-handed for my cigarettes and lighter. They were still in my pocket, because their usual place on the seat beside me was occupied. I freed the pack, lit a smoke, and opened the window a little to stop the air becoming too foul. My mind wasn’t giving up on the bolt from the blue. The entire meeting was etched as firmly into my brain as the day I first said hello to her in a chat room two years previously. There were times when my steel-trap memory served me well, and this was one of them. I sucked smoke into my lungs, adjusted the wiper blades to cope with the steadily increasing rain, and let myself drift back in time.
Whatever it was that drew us together that first evening was surprisingly strong. We had so much in common; it was if I were talking to myself at times. Who’d have thought I’d come across someone so like me in a poetry chat room?
My stomach growled loudly, reminding me how damn hungry I was. I felt Ellie stir slightly and figured she’d probably heard the noise.
“It’s raining a little harder,” I commented, to see if she really was awake. Rain bucketed down; I flicked the wipers to high.
“Yeah,” she said, sitting up a little more and looking out the window. “Everything okay out there?”
“Quiet out tonight.”
“Good.”
“You hungry?” I looked over at her; she looked a little paler than normal. It struck me how cool it was that I could make that observation in person.
“Nope,” she replied.
“Well, I am; we’re gonna eat at the very next place we see.” On second thoughts, I had a condition. “As long as it’s not a cyber café.”
“Good call.”
She was uncharacteristically subdued in her responses. I looked over; her head was again resting against the window, with her face turned slightly toward me. Her eyes closed.
I watched a for a familiar road sign. We’d been on the road a while and couldn’t be far from home.
A cell phone rang. I grabbed the offending piece of technology from its holder on the dash and immediately recognized the phone number displayed. Mom! I took a nicotine-filled breath hoping to stop trace of annoyance from creeping into my voice as I answered the call.
“Your father is an idiot!” she spewed venomously into my ear.
“Hi, Mom.” I sucked the life out of my cigarette, flicked the smoke butt out the window, and readied myself for whatever the problem was this time.
“This printer is a piece of shit! It keeps printing out pages and pages of the same thing and your father says it’s my fault!” She was furious and I knew it was going to be a difficult phone call.
“Mom, I’m not home right now. I can’t look up the printer manual for you.”
“Can’t you just fix it?”
I moved the phone away from my ear and sighed. Yep, I’ll just teleport myself right on over to their place and sort it all out.
“How many times did you click the print icon?”
“The stupid thing wouldn’t print! It took several clicks before anything happened! I need a new printer!”
I wanted to yell, No, Mom, you need to stop clicking the goddamn print icon a hundred times and just wait for a minute, but I didn’t. The worse thing was I knew she wouldn’t listen to my simple instructions to remedy the problem.
I could still hear her clicking the buttons.
Dammit!
“Let it run, Mom, and stop clicking on things. I’m driving, I gotta go.”
“You have to help me, you know about this stuff!”
What am I, a techie working for Hewlett-Packard?
No, I’m…
My thoughts paused as I considered the implications of disclosure.
Don’t.
I’m a stock trader.
It was enough that Caine Grafton knew who I was. I figured he’d come up with a way to give me a badge and a gun without me having to break cover. He needed to hurry along with that. I didn’t like how the situation with Carter had progressed over the last twenty-four hours.
“Mom, I have to go.” I adopted a firm but patient tone. “I’ll call you when I get home.” I hung up the phone and turned it off. I knew she’d call right back; she always did.
I briefly considered how much shit I was going to get from my handler for getting involved with Ellie and the potential media circus that was bound to follow an FBI agent with a body in the trunk of her car. It wasn’t the first time I had to ask the hard question: Was she worth it?
Again my answer was yes.
The other big one was if should I remain "Mac the stock trader" or tell her the truth and let the chips fall where they may. I was acutely aware that my decision would shape any possible future for us.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Ellie slump forward in the seat belt. I pulled off the road and stopped the car.
“Ellie!” I called loudly but she didn’t respond. “Ellie?” I undid my seat belt and slid across the seat, flicking the interior light on as I went. She wasn’t just pale; she was ghostly white. I touched her face. She didn’t move. I gulped as I placed two fingers under her jaw feeling for a pulse. I exhaled, realizing I had been holding my breath. At least she still had a pulse. I leaned closer and could feel her breath on my cheek.
“Ellie!” I called again. “Ellie! Wake up!”
Her eyelids flickered. I tapped on her collarbone.
“Ellie!”
A few seconds later, her eyes slowly opened. She lifted her head up and rested it on the window. Her hand covered her eyes. I figured the light was making them hurt.
“Hey. You feel okay?”
“No,” she replied. “My headaches.”
“What do you need?”
“Death,” she muttered and almost smiled.
“Yep, that’ll fix ya right on up.” I was watching her closely. “How about food?”
“Maybe that would help.”
“Maybe’s ass.” I turned the light out. “Better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Then I remembered I had a granola bar and a Dr. Pepper in the glove compartment. I grabbed them and opened the soda.
“Here, drink some of this, then eat this delectable and yet nutritious granola bar,” I said, doing my best infomercial impersonation.
She took the soda and drank nearly half before handing it back.
“Mmmm, warm soda, delicious.” She sounded more like somewhat sarcastic herself.
I think my sales pitch was a little off on the bar. She opened it and looked none too thrilled at its contents.
“Eat the damn thing,” I told her firmly. “We’re only about half an hour from home.”
Her hand flung out and smacked me on my arm. “I’ll try and stay awake.” She pulled a face and bit into the bar.
“Okay?”
She nodded. I made a mental note to keep a closer eye on her as we continued homeward. I knew she had vomited outside the café, and I knew we hadn’t eaten much all day, but it still bothered me. Most people don’t slump into near unconsciousness like that.
I pushed the thoughts back, determined that I would ask her later and meanwhile pay careful attention. Her hand touched my arm.
“You’re frowning,” she said with a small smile. “I’m just tired. Frowning isn’t required. It was shitty twenty-four hours is all.”
“I wasn’t frowning, it’s just how I look,” I retorted with a grin. Her smile somehow made everything all right. “It’s gonna be okay, Ellie.”
She smiled as she checked her weapon. “Yeah, it’s gonna be okay. Just another day at the office.”
“They’ll catch whoever killed Carter, and you have a week off.”
She reached for my pack of cigarettes. “I have a week off because Carter shot me and the bullet gashed my forehead,” she replied lighting a cigarette and exhaling smoke. She zapped her window down a couple of inches and leaned her head on the cool glass. “His death doesn’t figure highly on my give-a-shit-scale.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw the look on her face; I knew his death didn’t bother her half as much as how he died. I could tell she wanted to block out what had happened, but she couldn’t, any more than I could. God I wanted to. I wanted to fix it, to erase the memory, and I didn’t know where to start. That wasn’t entirely true. Mac the stock trader was lost. Mac the special agent undercover knew exactly where to start and was powerless. It was a shit of a situation to be in. Controlling the urge to whack my head into the steering wheel wasn’t easy.
She smoked a cigarette and watched quietly out the window. I readied myself for the impending shit-storm. I’d had two years and four months to figure it out and I’d spent most of it daydreaming. Now it was decision time.
I had forever wondered how her world revolved, where she walked, what her smile was like, her laughter and her tears.
I thought I would never know her like this. And now I’m taking her home.
The End
All I wanted was you
© Cat Connor 2010
For those who have read killerbyte – this slice of life took place between Carter’s body
turning up in the trunk of Ellie’s car at the Interscape Café and a late-night attack on Ellie at
Mac’s home in Northern Virginia.
All I wanted was you
© Cat Connor 2010
This is a work of fiction.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons,
living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2010 by Cat Connor
You can read/download sample chapters of both books on Cat’s website:
http://catconnor.wordpress.com/
Check out her blog:
http://catconnor.blogspot.com/
Special thanks to the Boy Wonder for his cleverness in paint and word.
Extra special thanks to Sara J. Henry for her excellence in beta reading!
Saturday, 22 January 2011
Terry Brooks: A Princess of Landover
Terry Brooks: THE Master of Modern Fantasy. Now, reading that on a book cover you would expect something spectacular, wouldn’t you? Well, unfortunately, ‘A Princess of Landover‘ doesn’t quite make that grade. It’s very good, and I enjoyed it, but I wouldn’t say it pipped writers such as Jim Butcher (http://hagelrat.blogspot.com/2010/06/first-lords-fury-review-p1-world-of.html ) or Dan Abnett (http://hagelrat.blogspot.com/2009/10/triumff-dan-abnett.html ), who both achieve a combination of creativity (of both plot and world), wry humour and observations on humanity in their books that make them a joy to read. ‘A Princess of Landover ‘aims for that, but doesn’t quite manage the magic that others have achieved.Before I start to sound like a cynical critic rather then the good natured, amicable reviewer I really am, I’d better start describing the book. The book follows Mistaya Holiday after her suspension from boarding school. For most of us, this would involve a trip home and a stay with angry parents. For Mistaya, it involves a cross-dimensional passage from this World to Landover, a chat with a slightly grumpy dragon*, a reunion with her pet mud-puppy and THEN the meeting with her parents. Her parents are the King of Landover, Ben Holiday, who bought the kingdom in this dimension as part of a scam and then survived the attempt to kill him afterwards and his wife, Willow, the beautiful dryad. As you might have guessed, Landover is just a touch magical and is also distinctly Middle Ages in feel, despite Ben’s best efforts.
Mistaya is sent away to renovate Libris, the royal library, much to her chagrin. However, things aren’t all as they appear. Libris is under the shadow of a dark master with his own plans and an ambitious prince from another part of the realm has his own plans for the princess and the kingdom itself.
Throw in the G’Home Gnomes, so called because everyone wants them to go home and stop stealing their stuff, and the scene-stealing antics of Edgewood Dirk, the Prism Cat and you have a fairly solid piece of fiction. In commenting on another post, I have described Edgewood as the awesome cat of awesome**and he is. He’s definitely the most catty talking cat I’ve encountered and some of his lines just left me sniggering helplessly. Add in his magical powers and he’s very cool!
Edgewood aside, I enjoyed the book, however I didn’t love it as much as some of the others I’ve read and reviewed for this site. My main criticism would be the feeling of familiarity concerning the plot. There are a few twists, but once the bad guys are fully identified the ending isn’t too much in doubt. The characters are also somewhat cliché, with none of the deliberate tongue-in-cheekness that other authors, such as Terry Pratchett (http://hagelrat.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-shall-wear-midnight-terry-pratchett.html) or Mike Wild (http://hagelrat.blogspot.com/2011/01/twilight-of-kerberos-engines-of.html ), use to counter this effect. I’ll admit, this might have something to do with my coming in on the 6th book of the series, not the first but enough of the background is explained that I never felt like I’d missed a massive amount.
So what would I say overall? I would say it’s a good, solid read with some great creativity in characters, such as Edgewood Dirk and the Dark Majesty of the Paladin, and in the world, with its mix of realms and mix of people but still, somehow, lacking the spark that’s caused me in other reviews to extol a book’s virtues without restraint.
On that slightly sombre note I leave you good reader. All the best!
*Who is big, fire breathing and powerful, but not particularly terrifying once you know him. See here: http://hagelrat.blogspot.com/2011/01/hageldragon.html
** Admittedly, I’ll agree that all cats are pretty awesome. And slightly mad.
Coming Soon: Traitors Gate, by Kate Elliot
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