The Gruesome and the Ghost

Well, just watched Hostel - and I've got Saw II recorded ready to go, too...

I thought, to hell with it, I'll sit down and bear the gruesome and see what the hype is, or was, all about.

I'm not sure I worked it out. Hostel was okay but certainly not one of the most gruesome flicks I've ever seen, nor one of the best storylines, either. But it did make me think about things...

Hostel, Saw (and its sequels), Wolf Creek, The Hills Have Eyes - all of these flicks use 'loud' horror to express their story, and these movies are raking in the money at the cinemas. People love this shit.

Back when I was a teenager (God, so long ago now), I used to love this shit too; loved watching the most violent, disgusting flicks I could find. The more blood spilled the better. But now, I can barely watch when they show the blade slipping into the calf and slicing... Perhaps it's because I'm older and I value life more.

There are two quite dramatically different schools of horror; loud and quiet (there might very well be more, but these are my thoughts so if I say two, then two shall it be). Loud evokes feelings of disgust, while quiet causes shivers and feelings of fear, or fright, without actually showing anything (or everything).

I'm more a man of the quiet school. To me, the things that you don't see, or perhaps only glimpse from the corner of your eye, are the things that scare me best. Okay, sure, your loving next-door neighbour with the fetish for leather aprons, clamps, rusty blunt scalpels and hooks, and who knows where you leave your spare back door key, is pretty damn frightening, but that's different. It's a different kind of horror.

And I'm not sure I can explain why, clearly.

One is a fear of what might be done to you; the violation of your body, your sacred temple. It's the thought of that loon peeling off a steak of flesh while you thrash and scream, helpless to do otherwise. It's the terror of such pain, of such deformity. And in our most fucked up world, well, this type of thing is horrifying because it happens! Wolf Creek was based - perhaps loosely - on real events. The simple fact of the matter is that people torture people for no reason. And we, the sick voyers that we are, wanna watch. We get off on it.

But where is the fun in that? That shit happens in our world, and I choose to watch horror to escape from reality. Watching horror-snuff flicks just reminds me of what humans really are capable of. It does nothing to make me feel better about things. Sure, I might go, well struth mate, I'm sure as heck glad I'm not that poor unfortunate bastard, but at the end of the day, when I turn off the DVD, I'm more depressed than when I started watching because now I know so much more about humans. It's frightening what we can do...

Quiet horror, on the other hand, doesn't show you these extremes. It lets your mind play games with you. You're never quite sure what could happen. There could be torture, they may be things in the dark that are after you, or there might be nothing more than just your imagination and upbringing causing you strife. It's psychological. And it's spooky because it's more removed from reality than that torturous prick next door. Spooky in a different way, and certainly more enjoyable - for me, at least.

That's they key to the village; I like quiet horror because I find it more enjoyable than loud horror. You have to take that leap of faith and believe in the story, then the scares come. Once the flick finishes, you go on back to your real life and go, phew, what a rush. But you feel safe in your world 'cos you know there aren't any monsters, there are no ghosts.

You don't have to worry about the creaking floorboard in the middle of the night...

Double figures

Great stuff!

I've just had a story accepted for Black Box, the sequel to the ground-breaking charity e-anthology Shadow Box, published by those great kids at Brimstone Press. Woohoo!

After looking over the list of contributors, there was no way I was going to miss out! That list reads like a who's who of Aussie spec-fic, and I wanted to be a part of it. And now I am.

Black Box is due for publication in January '08, so stay tuned for more details...

This marks my tenth story publication since I started focusing on fiction after my PhD, which finished in late 2005. I'll be the first to admit that it has taken a good year to get rid of all that deadly boring science writing out of my system (or at least to confine it to work), but this year, I've felt a freedom starting to appear in my writing, a free-flow of words that happens when the story demands to be told. It's a good sign.

Onwards and upwards, I say.

I'm a happy camper. And so is Darkling Muse, kind of... He has actually been throwing daggers at the other carnival folk through my lack of writing; he's pretty pissed at the moment, if truth be told... But it's been so hard getting back into my rhythm after PNG. I know it's been 3 weeks, but man...

Darkling's sideshow eyes have a real nasty gleam to them that makes me quite nervous. I try to tell my muse that he's making me feel uncomfortable being alone with him, but all he says is that he'd never harm me directly... (like that helps!)

At least my novel is chugging along - I've managed to finish the final edits on 23 of the 386 pages over the past 3 weeks, but neither myself or Darkling Muse is happy with such slow going. We really do need to crank up the pace. I aim to have this submitted to publishers by the end of the year.

And Macabre, that mystical magical beast of an anthology I'm editing with Angela, well, it's coming along nicely. There are some great stories slated to appear in the collection, both original and re-prints by new writers and by some of the best we've got. We're deep into the editing at the moment, but it's coming, and oh, what an anthology it'll be. We've got a great little surprise in store, too....

Okay, I've gotta go, the shadows are calling...

Thank you for the recognition

I found a cool surprise waiting for me in my inbox when I got back from the jungles of PNG the other week: I had been nominated for a Ditmar!

As it says on the Australian Ditmar Awards website, 'The Australian Science Fiction Achievement Awards, or Ditmars, are awarded by Australia's National Science Fiction Convention and are voted on by members of that convention. They are thus a popularity award representing the choice of Australian science fiction fandom.'

I've been nominated in the category of Fan Achievement for my work establishing and promoting the Australian Horror Writers Association.

So thank you, to those who voted for me. You guys rock.

But my name shouldn't be the only one up there. Carl has been here from the start as well, and is responsible for much of the admin work; he's the nuts and bolts guy, an invaluable member who has put in stacks of time over the years (he's also a cool vampire artist!). James, Kim, Mick, Kirstyn, Angela, Shane, David, Ian, Chris, Brian, Talie, Andrew - this is recognition for all the work these kids have done or are still doing.

The AHWA wouldn't exist without such a team effort, so thank you guys, for all we have achieved. We're not done yet, though, not by a long shot...

It's also great to see Angela up there for Brimstone Press , and Edwina Grey for Prismatic, Brett for Mother, Will for the mad clowns, Martin and his Carnies - aw gees, so many horror lads and ladies have been nominated, it's so good to see!

In case you haven't seen the list, check it out here.

Oh-oh, that shifty sideshow freak is approaching from behind, and he's looking anxious to get back into the writing after several weeks off, so....

From the deep dark jungles...

I'm 3 belt holes slimmer after my 2 weeks in the jungles of PNG. I'm covered in cuts and bruises, stings and bites, but it was one heck of a rollicking adventure!!

And sheer bloody exhausting, too...

Breakfast was at 5am, then we finalised the plans for that day. For me, this meant confirming the region I'd be looking at, working out where to get dropped off by helicopter and where to be picked up and when (the latter done in case the signal from the walkies wouldn't make it to Dispatch back at camp).

Once the sun came up, we were off - we included myself and my two PNG locals, whose job it was to prevent me from falling down a ravine or off a cliff, stop me from getting lost or from stepping on Death Adders or bumbling into ants nest, warn me away from salaut (a nasty stinging tree that hurts like hell) - basically, try to keep me alive until the chopper came to take us back to camp.

Camp itself was situated about 50m above the Hegigio River, deep in the Southern Highlands Province of PNG.

Our camp in the Southern Highlands Province (taken from the chopper).

One of the spectacular views from the camp.

There were 101km of jungle to cover geologically, but we were only making on average about 3km a day because the landscape was so tough. If we weren't trudging through ankle deep mud that seemed intent on sucking you down, we were climbing up limestone cliffs or tumbling down steep descents.

My camera kept fogging up with the humidity, my clothes were soaking wet, I was covered in mud and hurting from all the things that had bitten or stung me, my muscles were aching and my head pounding, but for some inane reason, I was loving every second of it, even as much as I hated it!

It was a real adventure.

Our path through the jungle was barely a path; the company I was conducting the work for uses minimal bridging, that is, they do as little as possible to impact upon the environment. So there might've been a hand rail leading down a 60 degree slope, a mad looking ladder going up a cliff, or a tree slung over a river for you to balance your way across.

Some fairly decent bridging, actually...

Sometimes, there was no path at all, and we had to use machetes to cut our way through the jungle. My two guides were brilliant at preventing us from getting lost and for repeating all day long for two weeks, 'you don't touch this or tomorrow you won't work,' 'you don't touch that or tonight you won't sleep,' 'You must come this way,' 'don't go that way...'

This ladder continued up the face of a cliff for close to 100m.

At one stage, we rounded a corner and came across a huge python(?) lying on the path! We had to walk past it, which we did so slowly. Fortunately, it had no interest in us other than to keep an eye on what we were up to. We also encountered two Death Adders (one of which we nearly stood on) plus a small ground snake of some kind. There were tree kangaroos up in the canopy (which itself was about 50m high), cassowary, wild pigs (which tasted pretty darn good), and butterflies (or moths? Hercules moth, I think) about the size of backpacks!!!!! I kid you not... That's a ridiculous size for a moth to grow.

There were also hornbills flying from tree to tree, making an odd wooshing sound with their wings as they flew overhead, a cave filled with thousands of bats that came roaring out (just like you see in the movies!) when we disturbed them. Rivers disappeared into the ground, raging waterfalls came out of cliff faces - the limestone terrain was pitted and ravaged; caves and ravines were as numerous as the trees.

The snake in our path...

The cave of bats...

And then, after reaching our destination each day, we (or me, really; my two helpers were of an entirely differenlt level of fitness to me) collapsed on the helipad and tried to call up base to organise a lift home. The chopper was Bravo-Charlie. We were Geo-crew. Helipads were labelled with a number followed by a letter, and call signs went accordingly; alpha, bravo, charlie, delta, echo, foxtrox etc...

But of course, I kept forgetting, so my call signs went more like; apple, bat, carrot, dinosaur...

And then we waited for the chopper. What a joyous sound that beast was when your ears finally picked up the rotors. The heavy clouds would begin to roll in after lunch, so if visibility grew too bad, we'd have to camp out in the jungle overnight and then get a lift out the next day. I was hoping this would happen so I could experience a night in the wild, but honestly, after hiking across the terrain we'd been hiking across for the past 6 or 7 hours, all I really wanted to do was get back to base camp, take off my shoes and socks and clothes, stumble into a cold shower and then fall into bed...

One of the helipads, perched atop a rise in a small clearing...

And thus did I spend the next 11 days, reaching levels of exhaustion that I never knew possible...

Another of those wild views you get from the jungle...

But just when the end was in sight, all hell broke loose... A man, loaded up on drugs, went crazy with his machete and started destroying some of the company's property at another base about 15km away due east. He seriously wounded a couple of people when they tried to stop him, too. The police finally managed to get him under control and threw him in the slammer (there was a small police station at the second camp).

But the man then hung himself.

His clan believed the police had beat him to death, so they went on the rampage. Subsequently, all activities at that camp and at our camp were shut down, especially after the clan started firing automatic weapons at the cop shop, then disappearing into the jungle!!

The army was called in, and we had 17 heavily armed special forces men move into our camp, bringing a whole hoard of weapons with them. The clan were making threats to kidnap an expat, had blocked the only road into/out from the second camp.

I was due to fly home on Thursday 5th April; there was a meeting between the company I was working with, the police and the clan on the Wednesday before to try to sort out the issue (the clan were seeking compensation from the company I was working for, believing that the police were only there because the company was there, ergo it was all the company's fault).

At one stage, the clan sent away all their women and children (an ominous sign).

The plane from Cairns to the second camp was due in that afternoon, but if the problem got any worse, or if the pilot wasn't comfortable landing there, then that was it; I wouldn't be flying out on Thursday and would have to spend Easter over there under seige... But that never happened.

The plane landed, I got a helicopter ride down to the second camp on Wednesday afternoon, and flew out of the country on Thursday.

One of the last things the camp boss at the camp I had been staying at told me was that he had been asked if he had enough provisions should they be locked down for weeks... I hope the situation never grew any worse - there were a number of people hoping to get home within the next day or so.....

Anyway, that was my PNG adventure - rough, harsh, exhausting, exhilerating, mind-blowing and frightening.

Would I ever want to go back?

Hell yeah.

...going jungle for 2 weeks seems to make you quite hairy, for some reason...

Knockin' over the words

Darkling Muse, fresh from all sorts of sideshow terrors, has gripped my pen hand firmly the past month or so and forced me to finish my second novel, 809 Jacob. This one is currently 110,000 words long, and is one I actually started before my PhD.

I will set about doing the final edit run-through once I return from the jungles of PNG. I'm off for two weeks geological field work in the deep dark and spooky jungles of the Highlands from the 21st of this month, and man, what an adventure this will be!! I will get a helicoptor ride each morning out to the region we will be working on that day, then a ride back to the base camp each evening. Last time my boss was out there, he had a Death Adder fall from a tree onto his hat, and a crazy rebel point a home-made shotgun into his face! Definite story material...

I've also had a slight change of plan regarding my first novel. The idea in that book is bulging at the seams, so in line with my plan of developing it into a trilogy, I want to add a little more to it in order to link these new ideas. So, for now, 809 Jacob will take priority; I intend to submit this novel to publishers by the second half of this year (which will please the dark fellow).

But for the next 10 days before I fly out to jungleland, I will be finishing some short stories - and getting stabbed by needles and sorting out visas and getting Malaria pills.........