To London, to London...

I live in The Rural. Today I went to The London-London. It's so big, so different, you have to say it twice.

Meeting with agent. I was terrified. First boss in my life I've wanted to impress. Always convinced I'm gonna get a beating. Thankfully, it went well. Lots of excitement about The Dead, great feedback on two other projects I'm involved with, and hints that some other stuff might come my way.

This is the odd life of a writer. We live in intense solitude with our imaginary worlds, inventing stuff we hope sufficient people will like so that the books sell and (holy of holies) we make enough to either make a living or at least buy a few extra beers down the pub (and I know some seriously excellent pubs just a walk away from where I live). Then, now and again, we're thrust in to the hustle-bustle world of city walking, The Under-The-Ground (oh, what a mystery marvel...), ludicrously expensive beer, and the entire populous being dressed in something other than what looks comfy. And wearing shoes they didn't just find in the porch.

So here am I, and it's a giggle. I've even gone and found a tremendous pub just a walk away from Paddington Station, which serves my favourite stout on tap: Youngs Double Chocolate. I kid you not! And, bizarrely, as I ordered it, a bloke at the bar was so astonished to hear someone ordering it that he went and had a taster from the bar, then ordered a pint himself! Ah, what influence I have...

I love these moments in my writing life. Getting away from the desk, out with the people who have been key to getting me to where I am now, and just having a natter. It makes it all a little more real (though my agent is in agreement with me: I really shouldn't make use of the skateboards being produced for The Dead; I'd look a right twit).

I've realised something though; I need to bring a camera with me, one of those nifty flip-cams. It's all very well me getting excited about what's going on, about the pub I'm sitting in and the beer I've found, but it needs to be filmed! Will rectify immediately.

Something else, too: perhaps this is what blogging is about? A little update on what's going on, where I'm at with what the writing's doing...

So that's what it's gonna be and I'll do my best to keep on top of it.

34 days (I think) till The Dead is launched. Excuse me while I neck this pint, scream, then run around like a nutter. This is all a bit weird...

The Dead are coming... in 35 days...

Haven't blogged for ages. Got caught up in writing, writing, writing. It's been crazy. still is. And now it's almost upon me. Can't believe it: my very own horror series hits the shelves with book 1 of The Dead in 35 days on July 1st... Jeez...

I'm nervous. Terrified. Excited. Stunned. Bemused. And lots of other things I can't quite put a word to.

Some crazy stuff has happened already, including:

Trailer of The Dead on youtube (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=045_InSeUTY)

Skateboards of The Dead produced as prizes (they're amazing!)

Website now live (www.davidgatward.com)

Badges of The Dead (see pic)

Facebook page up (just search for 'David Gatward Children's Author on facebook)

Two reviews already (will post links in a mo)

Interview/review in SFX magazine on 28 May

Review in Gorezone (will post when this is out) and trailer of The Dead on the covermount DVD

So there you go. The Dead are nearly here. I can't wait to meet 'em...

Dave

Hey... country boy...

What makes someone a writer? Dunno. Me - I just am one. I can't help it, can't stop. It irritates the hell out of me. And it makes me smile. It's easy to believe writers should have a certain type of background. A slight distance from normal society. A certain air that's always kept them apart, yet observing, jotting notes. But I'm completely normal. Nothing about me is in anyway different to any one else. And to prove it, spot the writer in the following shot:

One of those gun-tooting loons is me, people. Which one though... which one... (You gotta love a boom stick...)

Book 4... as yet without title...

OK, so I'm working ahead of myself here, but even though I'm on books 2 and 3 in the writing, I kind of need to think about 4-6. I've got a general HUGE idea as to where this is all going, but that's hard to tie down. Essentially, at the heart of the whole series is the quest of Lazarus: he's going to get his dad back, no matter what. That's it. That's the core. But here's book 4 as it stands at the minute... Well, I've removed a few bits as they give away what books 2 and 3 are about, but try this...

The Dead were stopped. Lazarus did his job. And sacrificed so much. And he's only just about recovered when a raven-black messenger brings him news: Hell, supposedly locked for good, has caught itself an Angel, a being with the very power – the Language of the Beginning, the Word – to speak their world in to existence. And Hell has sent out the Sliders – creatures engraved in angelic script and created to slip between worlds with but one aim: to find the Gyngle Girl; a child both blessed and cursed with the ability to understand this language and speak it in utter innocence.

In the beginning was The Word… But if The Word gets in to the wrong hands…

It's a start, eh?

Which reminds me, I really need to crack on with my other three ideas:

1. The Apocalypse Boys: horses, armageddon, lots of fighting...
2. Squad: Skydiving, guns, social dropouts, werewolves, alternate realities...
3. Voodoo Child: Girl can see music, control everyone's tune... and now the Pied Piper is returning...

Just ain't got the time. Pants...

Book 3, The Damned...

This is the basics of what Book 3 of The Dead is about:


Tombs. Hundreds of them. All lying in concentric rings in the greasy, cold darkness of the cavern. At their very centre, hanging from a burnt and blackened tree, a huge, cracked bell. And under that, The Gate, built from the bones of a thousand murdered souls. Lazarus knew ringing the bell would be very bad. He also knew he had no choice - he needed the kind of help only Hell could give him...


The Dead don't just want to return, they want Earth for themselves. And it's Lazarus Stone, Keeper of the Dead, who has to stop them. But the Dead are the exact opposite of rotting, stumbling corpses. And they desire one thing only: to live again. To do that, all they need is a good supply of fresh, warm bodies...


Lazarus now knows his mum murdered him, betrayed his dad, and is about to open a portal between worlds that will bring about the end of life as we know it. Trouble is, his best mate has disappeared (again), he still hasn't rescued his dad (but he will), and the only help he has is that of an undead priest (who carries a blunderbuss) and a female angel (who drives a 4x4 and has an alcohol problem). This isn't just about saving the world, this is personal... this is family...


Sound any good? Hope so - I'll be writing it in a few weeks... Best finish book 2 first though.

The Dark (The Dead Book 2) Cover

Just had sent through the full cover for The Dark, book 2 of The Dead. And I am, to be frank, astonished. It's very hard to believe that what I'm writing is having such covers produced. I may have to spend some time pinching myself...

The Text on the back reads:

The thing was a bubbling, spitting, obsidian blackness. It slipped across the ground like a fat slug. Then it shuddered, its oily surface split horribly, and thick bloody liquid spewed out and splashed across the floor. Something pushed out through the gaping wound: a slime-covered head, frozen in an endless scream.

Lazarus Stone has been killed, resurrected, and attacked by demons. He's all that stands between our world and the Dead. But things are getting complicated: he's in the land of the Dead, wearing the clothes of a corpse and he's no idea who - or what - tricked his dad into trying to bring back his long-dead mum. Life couldn't get much worse. But it will...

Sounds pretty good, doesn't it?

New Santa List... concluded.

I could, I think, continue this list for a very long time, but I've decided to cut it short. Santa would get bored and if I got everything on it, well, what would I have left to shop for? So I'm finishing the list with the ultimate: The Swamp. And here it is...

MASH will, I'm sure, be the subject of another blog. As my all-time favourite TV show, the idea of having The Swamp to hang out in with a bunch of mates, or perhaps to just go in there and mooch around, even write... Marvellous.