Knox, Knox, Knox, OUT! OUT! OUT!

OK, so I have a wee confession to make: I was kinda bricking it a bit on Saturday. Thinking there was no way I'd get more than about a dozen people to film the angry crowd scene (and let's face it, it's not that easy to make twelve people look like an angry mob. Though they'd be perfect for a disgruntled bus queue) I got in touch with a nice man I know at the Evening Express. "Can you mention it?" says I.
"Well ... the paper's pretty much designed for Friday, but I'll see what I can do." says he.

And that was that.

Then on the Friday I opened my copy of the EE to find Scott had written a half page piece, asking for protesters. EEK! Cue sudden image of three hundred people turning up and everything spiralling out of control.

PANIC!

Then the crash. Maybe no bugger will turn up at all? Maybe it'll be just me, Alex (assistant director and cameraman), She Who Must Be Cast As A TV Reporter, Lee (bravely playing the part of DARK BLOOD'S arch pervert, Richard Knox), Googling Brother (playing the part of 'Reporter in silly hat' and DSI Danby), and a couple of mates. Oh God, it'll all be a disaster...

Or maybe it'll be far too many people?

Not enough?

Too Many?

ARRRRRRRRRGH!

And I had no idea which it would be until we walked into Victoria Park. In the end we got seventy five of the best damn angry rioters I could have possibly hoped for. And really, really well behaved ones as well. When I shouted, "ACTION!" in my fake Steven Spielberg voice they went ape and shouted and screamed and waved their placards. And when I yelled "CUT!" they went all quiet and waited to be told, "ACTION!" again. Brilliant. I'd booked the park for two hours, figguring it'd take at least that to get anything done, and in the end we were done in thirty-five minutes.

How cool is that?

So I want to say a big thank you to everyone who turned up on Saturday - you couldn't have been more perfect if you tried.

Next up, editing!

Fancy trying something new?

All those life coaches with their plastic hair and plastic tans and plastic teeth are always telling us we need to try new things in this life to avoid becoming boring slabs of deep-fried potato*, slowly oozing into our collective couches. Well, if you fancy expanding your cultural horizons I have a proposition for you: come to Aberdeen.

Specifically, come to Aberdeen's Victoria Park this Saturday the 13th of March for 14:00. And wear a woolly hat.

Why?

Bleedin' 'eck, isn't it enough that I've asked you nicely?

Didn't think so.

This year, for the first time, those naughty monkeys at HarperCollins have agreed to let me film a wee trailer for the new book. Yes, DARK BLOOD is going to get the full Hollywood experience. Or as much of Hollywood as I and some friends can do with a stepladder and a roll of duct tape. So on Saturday between 14:00 and 16:00 we'll be filming an angry crowd. You know the sort of thing: shouting, waving their fists, holding placards, protesting their little booties off.

And if you want to come and be in the trailer, that would be very, very cool. It's going to be kinda difficult to film an angry crowd scene if only three people and a whippet turn up, so the more the merrier.

There's no cash involved (though I might get some crisps in), but how often in this life do you get the chance to protest and shout nasty things about someone who doesn't exist? And obviously we'll all be up for an Oscar next year. *ahem*

If you fancy it - we're in Victoria Park (just off Westburn Road), meeting at the fountain in the middle of it on Saturday, ready to start rocking and rolling at 14:00 and releasing our inner thespians! Darling! Luvie! Etc!

Dress as if it's the dead of winter: gloves, thick coats, hats, and scarves, and prepare to be made IMMORTAL!


* Not that I've got anything against deep-fried potato. Come on, chips? What could be better than chip? Except chips and fizzy wine. And dancing girls.

Competitionistical

I've been meaning to post about this for a while, and the new book is being a little sticky this morning, so now seems like as good a time as any. Well, maybe not as good a time as, say, sitting on the grass in the height of summer with a bottle of fizzy wine and a groaning picnic basket*, waited on hand and foot** by a bevy of dusky maidens - that would be a pretty damn good time.

Anyway, yeah, so: competitions.

First up comes courtesy of those lovely people at Alibi, in conjunction with other lovely people at HarperCollins, The TV Times, and the Theakstons Old Peculier Crime Writing Festival. As you probably know Alibi's the only channel completely dedicated to crime drama, which is kinda pretty cool in our household, and this year they're launching their inaugural 'search for a new crime writer'.

"Oh yeah?" I hear you mumble, through a mouthful of PotNoodle, "And what do we have to do to win this competition thing you're pimping, like a big hairy pimp?"
Easy, you cynical monkey, you're getting gravy all down your chin and it's not a good look. What you have to do is flex your creative writing muscles and come up with a short story (2,000 to 5,000 words) starting with the following sentence:

In my experience, those who beg for mercy seldom deserve it.

Piece of cake, right? Or a bag of crisps if you're not down with the whole cake thing.

The competition was rolled out on the 25th of Jan (yeah, I'm late getting around to telling you about it, but I've been deadline's bitch for months now) to an instant flurry of submissions. Some of which, I'm guessing, were lying about in people's top drawers, gathering dust, just waiting for an excuse to be foisted upon the world. And a couple of the entrants didn't even pause to read the submission guidelines and ... oh, I don't know ... take the basic sodding precaution of rewriting the first line to say, 'In my experience, those who beg for mercy seldom deserve it.'

Seriously, 10 out of 10 for enthusiasm, and 0 out of 10 for getting rejected straight away for NOT EVEN BOTHERING TO PRETEND YOU'D WRITTEN IT FOR THE COMPETITION!

Twits.

Anyway, you've got till the 16th of May to enter, and you probably want to know what kind of goodies you'll be walking off with, like the kids on Crackerjack (though without the obligatory pencil and cabbage) one lucky write-ist will be leaving with their arms weighed down with:

• A pair of tickets to the festival (22nd - 25th July and I'm chairing it so it's going to be pretty squinky this year), two nights' B&B, and your travel paid for***.
• One place at the Creative Thursday Workshop Master-Classes on the 22nd July.
• A Sony eReader
• Lunch with the head of Alibi, and a HarperCollins rep (I've not been invited, so I'm sulking)
• 100 crime books, including a complete, signed back catalogue of my stuff.
• And your story published online in an e-edition by HarperCollins.

Not too shabby, eh? And two runners up get:

• A pair of festival tickets each, and a slot at the Creative Thursday Workshops too.

All you have to do is write your short story and submit it at the Alibi website. Where they also have a video of me looking remarkably like a fat hairy potato.

More competition news tomorrow, and perhaps a photo of a dead mouse too!****

* Groaning as in 'full to bursting with nice things to eat' not groaning as in 'suffering from intestinal discomfort'. That wouldn't be such a good time.
** Why do people want their feet waited on? Are they pedophiles? Freaks.
*** Within reason, I assume. I mean, they're not going to fly you first class from New Zealand, are they? Be sensible.
**** I know you've been missing them.