Signing my life away.

Posted on February 28, 2013 by Andy Smillie

I remember January. It fell somewhere between the misery that was Christmas and now. March. I can’t believe it’s March.

This means two things. One, I’m late with at least two writing projects. Two, it’s Black Library Live this Saturday.

Last year’s BL Live was the first time I attended an event with the express purpose of signing books and swanning around being all author-ly. Back then, I hadn’t written all that much for Black Library. Reparation and Beneath the Flesh were out as eBooks, but unlike Aaron and Dan, I’d yet to be asked to deface a Kindle. So despite the oversized placard with my name on it, few people knew who I was, and fewer still stopped by for a signature.

Luckily, my lack of fame gave me a great chance to play with my new iPad. While the other authors were busy signing books, answering questions, and generally living the rock-and-roll lifestyle I’d long coveted, I managed to write a short story - Immortalis.

Consequently, at the Black Library Weekender, I went prepared with my MacBook; (Apple have long been conspiring with Starbucks to take all of my money). Scheduled for six hours of seminars and signings I was positive I’d get plenty written. At the very least I’d organize my iTunes library and clean out my dropbox folder.

I was wrong.

At my very first signing there was a long queue of people that saw me signing for 70 minutes solid. 70 minutes! I haven’t held a pen for that long since my English exam in high school, and even then I was mostly doodling.

My seminars, which I had anticipated being a chance for the seat cushions to plump themselves back up, were well attended, and not just by the the cohort I’d dragged in for moral support (thanks Nic, thanks Chris, you too Aaron).

I was stunned. Honoured even. It seemed having a book with a giant Flesh Tearer on the cover had done wonders for my street-cred. Not once, over the entire weekend, did I have a spare moment to reach for my laptop.

Black Library Live then, was very definitely one of the highlights of last year.

Sadly though, I didn’t take a single picture at the event, leaving me nothing but my memory, an unreliable and temperamental beast, to remind me of its awesomeness. Even Google, my one-stop saviour, didn’t seem to have much in the way of photographic evidence. Though a quick search for ‘Andy Smillie Black Library Weekender’, returned this:

I’ve no idea what had me looking so perplexed. Submit your caption ideas as comments on this post. There’ll be a prize for the best one, probably.

For those of you who missed the event or like me, would just enjoy the chance to relive it in pictures, here’s a selection of images that you can take to be close approximations of what actually happened, ish.

The Weekender was held at the Nottingham Belfry, a venue so awesome it could only have been made out of Lego.

As soon as the doors opened, the hotel was overrun by a horde of frothing fans.

The limited edition anthologies, like snuggly hoodies, were in high demand.

No one in the singing queue wore the same shade of denim, which made it easier to tell them apart.

Although the two-tone system worked well for the seminars, making it easy to tell author from fan, I do hope that next year I get to be a nice pastel colour. You know, something better suited to my Scottish complexion.

Universally Challenged, Saturday evening’s quiz, saw Dan, Aaron, Gav, Graham, Jim and Chris Wraight do battle. I’ll let you decide who’s who.

Hopefully, I’ll see a bunch of you this weekend at BL Live. If one of you could bring a camera, that’d be great.

In loving memory.

Posted on December 17, 2012 by Andy Smillie

I wouldn’t normally write a post this personal, but I’m terrible at grieving, so forgive me my indulgence.

Today, we laid my gran to rest.

She was my favourite person in all the world, and I attribute every virtue I posses to her. The three lines engraved on the plaque of her coffin (pictured above), hardly seemed enough to sum up her life. To help, I wrote the following, and read it aloud at the service:

This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write.

For how can any word or arrangement of sentences sum up a life?

Ruby, not Rebecca because her mum disliked Becca, was a sister, a mother, a grandmother, a friend.

She was a soft women from a hard upbringing.

She was many things to many people.

To me she was Gran. She was warmth. She was safety.

She was a Tea Genie. A caramel wafer dunker and Twix fan.

She was homemade soup, and bacon sandwiches.

She was a hearty laugh, and a smile that filled her face.

She was ice-blue eyes, that were always warm.

She was an asthmatic who called her inhaler a ‘puffer’.

She was a TV addict who perched on the edge of her seat, yet she never fell off when she napped.

She was bed-time stories and Bible readings.

She used the word ‘weeshed’, called me ‘son’, and never took the Lord’s name in vain.

Gran was all these things, a hundred more, and far more than the sum of them all.

I’ll miss her more than words can say, and the pain at her passing is greater than any I’ve felt. But my sadness is as nothing compared to how happy I am to have had her in my life.

Ruby lived for her family, for her loved ones, and we are all the better for having loved her.

Goodbye, Gran. I’ll miss you.

Cinema, it’s the experience.

Posted on December 5, 2012 by Andy Smillie

At long last, Flesh of Cretacia my first, real book is out. As is The Stromark Massacre, my first Flesh Tearers audio drama, and ‘Torturer’s Thirst’ a new Flesh Tearers short story. In light of all this, I felt I should probably write a blog about them. You know, talk about the writing process and extol the virtues of the novella etc. Proper writer-ey promotional stuff. Instead though, after spending several evenings at my local cinema, I decided to write a letter to Cineworld. Check it out:

***

Dear Cineworld Directors*,

I love films. In particular, I love watching films at the cinema. The screen is massive, the sound is loud and the seats have handy little holders for your drinks and snacks**. Once, I bought a projector and tried to emulate the experience in my living room, but the stains on the walls ruined the picture, and Jeff (the burly guy from next door) took away my speakers. But I digress.

I don’t have a picture of Jeff. But here’s one of someone Jeff looks like.

I love visiting the cinema so much that the advert that begins, ‘Imagine’, you know, the one with the dust on the theatre chairs that warns us about piracy and the closure of cinemas? Well, honestly, I well up. It makes me so terribly sad to think of a world without cinemas. I really can’t think of anything worse. Nothing.

Rather than stand idly by and let such a catastrophe unfold unchallenged, I’ve decided to write you this letter in the hope of warding off some of the many threats to cinema’s survival.

I frequent your Nottingham branch about twice a week. Sometimes three depending on what’s on. Like last week when I saw Taken 2, Here Comes the Boom, and Sky Fall. But mostly twice. Unless I’ve seen everything or there’s nothing showing that doesn’t have Jennifer Aniston in it. Generally though, I go twice a week.

Last week, during one of my three visits, I went to buy some some popcorn only to be told that you’d ‘run out’. No popcorn? I thought, bemused. But it’s the cinema. There must surely be popcorn. Apparently not. Now, while I applaud your diversification into sweets and ice creams (it certainly saves me sneaking those things in), I think perhaps you’ve given your Concession Experts a little too much to handle. Perhaps limit the number of lines you have on sale to 10. That way your Concession Experts can use their fingers to keep track of the stock ordering. If you really must have more, then I’d suggest removing the Concession Expert’s footwear. Toes make excellent secondary counting aids.

Also last week, I approached a Concession Facilitator in order to purchase some ice cream. He greeted me with the usual friendly stare I’ve come to expect from such focused individuals and asked, ‘Anything else?’ Thirsty and aware that ice cream contains a decent amount of sodium, I answered, ‘Yes. Water, please’. All fairly standard stuff I’ll grant you. Except rather than fetch me the water, he said, ‘It’s two-pounds sixty for water. Is that okay?’

Huh, I thought.

All these years, all these trips to the cinema and I’d never realised the concession stand operated on a barter system. Excited by this new development, I replied, ‘No. How about one-fifty?’ (I was prepared to pay two-pounds but thought I might as well go in low). Clearly a pro, he kept schtum, so I raised my offer to two-pounds. This time he replied, ‘Do you want the water or not?’ Confused by his sudden hard-line approach, and running late for the film, I decided against purchasing the water. I was later to learn that he had no real intention of negotiating about the price of the water. As a suggestion, I think it would probably be for the best if you told your Concession Facilitators not to apologise for the prices. That way they could concentrate on what they do best, offering great customer service, which is after-all why the water costs so much, right?

Speaking of customer service, I think the sense of fun you’ve instilled in the Ticket Checkers is fantastic. This week I watched one of them skipping over a yo-yo. Do you really pay them for that? If so, you must have applicants queuing round the block. Does he get more than the guy who was stood reading a book instead of checking tickets? I do hope so. Though, if it is queue entertainers you’re looking for I’d take a leaf out of Disney’s book and stick your staff in loveable costumes. Perhaps one like this:

That’d be way more entertaining.

On a final note, I particularly enjoy spending time with your Ticket Keepers while they run through the three separate transactions needed to grant me access to a 3D film. First, they swipe my Cineworld card, handing me a receipt and a ticket. Next up, they charge me the 3D surplus and present me with another receipt. Finally, they charge me for a set of 3D glasses, which come with a complimentary receipt***. Now while I understand touch screens are a lot of fun (I have an iPad. It’s ace), there must be some other way of providing job satisfaction for your staff. Besides, I’m not actually sure your Ticket Keepers understand it’s supposed to be fun. I’ve encountered several of them propping themselves up by their elbows while they try to coax their tongue into forming vowels. Perhaps giving them longer breaks or some Gummy Bears would better motivate them.

Best wishes,

-Andy Smillie

*I assume a film company calls all of its management ‘Directors’ although perhaps you’re ‘Producers’. If so, I apologise.

**Though if you are looking for improvements, some form of fold out tray would be useful. It’s rare to find another patron who’ll let you balance your nachos with extra cheese and hot coffee on their lap.

***I’m no Eco Warrior. If you want to waste a bunch of paper, who am I to argue? But if you must fill my pockets with something, I’d rather it were Gummy Bears. Just saying.

***

I’ll let you know if Cineworld reply. In the meantime, go buy my book.

Don’t get stabbed.

Posted on September 27, 2012 by Andy Smillie

Its been ages since I blogged. Mostly because I’ve had a book to finish but also because I like napping, and there’s rarely time to write and blog before the urge to nap gets the better of me. The book’s now finished. As are a bunch of other writing projects, but I’ll talk about those next week. Deadlines and sleeping patterns allowing, of course.

Yesterday, I took my Krav Maga Practitioner Level One test. I passed, which is to say I didn’t get stabbed, and will shortly be the proud owner of a certificate to that effect. I didn’t however, receive a belt, coloured or otherwise. Interestingly though, my trousers are managing to stay up just fine.

I’ve trained in a lot of different martial arts over the last twelve years or so – kickboxing, boxing, tae kwon-do, escrima, muay thai, jkd, and silat. I even took a judo class, once. I’ve fought semi-contact bouts and full contact ones too. I’ve fought against groups of attackers in the training hall and on the street. But it wasn’t until I started Krav Maga that I realised I knew only the basics when it came to effectively dealing with violence.

If you’re interested, you can read all about Krav Maga and its history here. But in summary, it’s a pragmatic and practical combative system that requires neither the agility of a prima ballerina nor the endurance of a marathon runner. Training covers three areas – technique, organic ways to attack and defend; tactics, everything from avoiding fights to ensuring you walk away from them; and mindset, because it’s not easy bashing someone’s face in, even if your trousers are tied securely with a belt that’s ninja-black.

Krav Maga isn’t really concerned where one foot should go and at what angle, and there’s no pressure point wizardry or complex kata. Krav Maga’s effective because it’s simple – hit your attacker’s head until his brain turns off. You can hit it with whatever you like and in any way you can, as long as you hit it. The throat, genitalia and eyes are also acceptable targets. The mantra, ‘My go, my go, my go’ (The attacker doesn’t get a go) is one the Krav Maga practitioner lives by. The other is – don’t get stabbed.

Krav Maga was designed to work in the real world. Here in Nottingham, knife crime is rife. So in training, we spend a large portion of time dealing with knife threats and attacks. Seems obvious, right? Yet in every other martial art I’ve studied, the knife is introduced much later on, if at all. The same goes for multiple attackers. Most street fights involve more than one assailant (usually three or four), but in general, martial arts don’t expose you to multiple attackers until after a year or so of training. In Krav Maga you learn to deal with multiple attackers from your first lesson. Now, I’m not saying that turning up to a single Krav Maga class will unleash the hidden warrior within. Neither will it enable you to whip up a spandex costume, and patrol the night giving crime a good shoeing. But you will leave understanding how to apply this principle:

Hit first and hit often.

Also this one – don’t get stabbed.

I’ve only just stepped onto the first rung of Krav, and I’ve a long, long way to go before I’d consider myself proficient. Watching Dave and the other instructors, the guys who really know their stuff, switch from Captain Friendly to Brutal Death-Machine, to dispatch multiple, armed, motivated assailants, has made me realise that pitting any other martial art against Krav Maga would be like bringing a knife to a gun fight.

And, as I mentioned earlier, Krav Maga practitioners are more than adept at dealing with knives.

In the absence of actual danger – please turn off your phone.

Posted on April 9, 2012 by Andy Smillie

‘Do you mind tucking your jacket under your chair?’ the air hostess asked.

I looked at her, confused.

‘Your coat, do you mind putting it under your seat for takeoff?’

I looked at my hoodie and then back at her.

Surely she didn’t mean that the several grams my hoodie weighed was enough to make it a dangerous object, a lethal projectile destined to shoot forward through the cabin and bludgeon my fellow passengers into unconsciousness.

She held my gaze.

Huh. It seemed that was exactly what she thought.

Having spent several dumbfounded moments considering her request, I decided that, I did in fact mind putting my hoodie on the floor under my seat. There was no way I was soiling my clothing for such a stupid request.

I picked up the offending hoodie and tucked it behind me. The air hostess seemed happy with this. She’d obviously reasoned that my weight, a little more than said hoodie, was enough to fix it firmly in place and thus remove the threat.

But before I could devolve into an vengeful internal monologue where I cursed her, her kin and all of her descendants, while objectively examining just how ridiculous the whole exchange had been, I heard another hostess say:

‘We’re not trained to identify which Kindles have wifi and which don’t.’

This time, it was a middle-age women sat across the aisle to my left, who was the focus of Air Hostess Idiocy.

No laptop and electrical devices can be used during takeoff. Bad things may happen. Nonsense. If that were really the case then terrorists wouldn’t need bombs or shoes with secret compartments in their soles that even James Bond would be jealous of. No, all your average Western World Hating Nutter would need is a mobile phone and a few pence of credit to text his pals and confirm a job well done. I mean, armed with an iPad I expect your average passenger could take control of the plane and all others within 500 miles*. There’s probably even an app for that…

No, not yet. Still.

In protest of the Electrical Device Embargo, I put on my headphones. Sure, they were little more than expensive earmuffs but when a hostess cited the aforementioned embargo and asked me to take them off, I got to enjoy waving the loose connector at her while practicing my Evil Genius Grin.

Childish, yes. More stupid than the rules surrounding takeoff and the omnipotent fasten seatbelt light – no, not even close.

Guaranteed to stay in the air even near your laptop. Though perhaps not if it rains.

This guy had better hope his phone doesn’t ring.

*If this were true, Die Hard 2 would have been a much duller film.

Something borrowed…

Posted on January 29, 2012 by Andy Smillie

After scolding myself for once again failing to post regularly, I was almost certainly going to write a new blog entry. However, as it turns out, the folks over at blacklibrary.com have beaten me to it. On Friday, they posted this blog about my new Flesh Tearer’s eShort. Take a look:

BENEATH THE FLESH

Andy Smillie’s Beneath the Flesh hits the virtual shelves today. We managed to grab a moment with Andy (which is harder than it sounds when his day is filled with working, writing, and pumping enough iron to make a Space Marine jealous) and asked him a few questions:

What do you enjoy about writing for Black Library?
It’s great fun. I grew up playing games of Warhammer and Warhammer 40,000, so getting to write about the stuff I used to game with is like a dream come true, a real privilege. What can I say? It’s awesome.

Beneath the Flesh is a story about the Flesh Tearers, arguably the most bloodthirsty of the Blood Angels’ successor Chapters. What made you want to write about them?
Blood Angels were the first army I collected for Warhammer 40,000, and the old Angels of Death Codex remains one of my favourites. So I guess the sons of Sanguinius have always held a special place for me. Then when I started looking into the different Chapters in more detail and really thinking about who they were, the Flesh Tearers struck me as having a lot of depth.

At first glance, you could accuse the Flesh Tearers of being rather one-dimensional. But there’s a lot more to them than that, and their story is a tragic one. They’re addicts, possessed of an unquenchable rage that drives them to horrendous acts of violence and ultimately, death. They’re a Chapter on the very brink of extinction. Yet through force of will, and in the face of persecution, they’ve managed to remain loyal to the Emperor.

Besides, they fight with massive chain weapons and their Chapter Master is prone to head-butting folk. Brilliant.

This story is longer than your previous works. What challenges did that pose?
The longer format gave me more room to push the story a bit further. I was able to include an ensemble cast and even begin to form a mini-verse around them that I can develop later on.

You mentioned developing a universe to revisit; does that mean that we’ll be seeing some more Flesh Tearers stories from you in the future?
In a word, yes. I can’t really say anymore at the moment, but there is a lot of exciting, rage-fuelled stuff on the horizon, some of which I think you’ll see at the Black Library Weekender later this year.

Thanks for that Andy

You’ll find the original post here:

http://www.blacklibrary.com/Blog/Beneath-the-Flesh.html

My first cover.

Posted on November 20, 2011 by Andy Smillie

Check this out:

It’s the cover image for my long-short story ‘Beneath the Flesh’, which is out in January (I think). Rachel Doherty designed the image, and I think she’s done a great job, deploying her wicked-mad photoshop skills to really capture the dark menace of Sanguinius’ angriest sons. Thanks Rach. The only slight fly in the ointment is I’ve yet to finish said story… So, I’ll leave you enjoying Rachel’s handy-work while I get back to writing.