If you haven’t yet read “The Genesis“,
now would be a good time to pick it up.

Amazon.com | Amazon.co.uk

Read the Excerpt

That night passed all too quickly, and before she’d even considered what she was going to do, Catrina found herself in the sitting in the corner booth of Jenkins Bar and Grill, the closest rat trap bar to her apartment, a perfect spot for greasy food and flat beer. She picked at a bowl of fries like a vulture stripping a carcass, as eight o’clock loomed without a decision made.

She chose the same booth as always; tucked in a darkened corner with a view of the entrance and within arm’s reach of the fire exit. The ever-present haze of cigarette smoke lodged up her nose, drowning out any hope of tasting the grease-covered snack.

She took the card from her jacket pocket, although she didn’t need it anymore, since she’d memorised the address within minutes. While she hadn’t reached a conscious decision yet, she’d still packed a bag with a week’s worth of clothing and her most precious possessions, consisting of the oversized t-shirt she wore to bed, and her gun, now un-jammed and nestled comfortably in the back of her jeans. She also packed the bullet into a side pocket. She didn’t have much of a sentimental side, but a bullet that jammed her weapon and set in motion an intervention that in turn led to her recruitment for a covert government operation, that was worth keeping. Maybe she would tell her grandchildren about it someday.

The time on her watch read 19:23. The same time showed seconds ticking away on the clock over the bar, with her indecision in danger of becoming an indication of disinterest growing closer with every shift of the hands.

Amelia “Call me Millie” Jenkins eyed the carry-all on her table-clearing circuit. “You going on a trip?”

Mille was a skinny, gangly little thing, all elbows and knees, but she had the sweetest smile, which she wore every minute of every day. Jenkins’ Bar and Grill was her parent’s business, and Mille–having all the prospects one might expect for a high school dropout–had all the wonders of working in a bar to look forward to for the rest of her life.

Catrina pocketed the card. “I don’t know yet.”

“Sounds interesting.” After checking no one needed her immediate services, she slid into the opposite side of the booth, despite Catrina’s frown. Millie tended to latch onto her whenever she came in; maybe because they were within a few years of each other, she thought they’d have something in common. “Come on, spill.”

Maybe an outsider’s perspective would help, and with time marching on, she needed to make sure that she was making the right choice.

“So this guy came up to me at work last night.” Millie’s eyes brightened. “Says he has this job offer. But doesn’t tell me anything about it. Just says it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. More money, less hours, that kind of thing,” she lied, filling in for the details involving super-human abilities. “And I have until eight o’clock to decide if I want it.”

“Leaving it last minute, then,” Millie said, eyeing the clock. “So this guy…he cute?”

Catrina smiled at the fact the waitress hadn’t jumped to the immediate conclusion that the stranger was a creep of any kind, or why a new job involved packing a bag, but whether or not this man would make good eye-candy.

“I wouldn’t say cute,” she replied, recollecting the sharp cut to his jaw, his dark eyes with a distant gleam that could only be seen when he lit up a cigarette…his inhuman speed and strength. “He was more…the mysterious type.”

Away with her thoughts, Millie mumbled, “What I wouldn’t give for a tall, dark, handsome stranger to come sweep me away.” As though her wish was about to come true, the door to the bar swung inwards with a clatter, and they both turned with baited breath. An elderly couple entered the bar. Visible disappointment darkened Millie’s expression, but the moment was fleeting and she was soon all smiles again. “So what’s the problem? Anything must be better than cleaning at a hospital.”

Like waiting tables? Catrina thought, silently defending her make-believe career.

Seeing her expression change, the waitress put up her hands. “No offence.”

She waved the comment away, taking the last handful of fries. “Am I being an idiot? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I should just do it, right?”

“If it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, you should totally take it.” Millie slid out of the booth and took the empty bowl with her. “Who knows, if you’re lucky, you might be able to break out of Dayson.”

Catrina snorted at that. Nobody “broke out” of Dayson city. People were born, raised, worked into the ground, and died here. That was the way of things. And while nobody moved to Dayson by choice, once they were here, it sucked the very life out of them, and by then they hadn’t the energy to up and leave.

She’d spent too long living a life that benefited no one. Her life to this point had been one big disappointment after another, this had the chance to become one more notch on her belt. Then again, maybe it would be the best decision she’d ever make in her life.

She slammed her hands down on the table.

“I’m going!” she announced, throwing too much cash onto the table as she hauled the carry-all over her shoulder and rushed for the door. Millie waved her off, pure delight beaming in her smile.

If you haven’t yet read “The Genesis“,
now would be a good time to pick it up.

Amazon.com | Amazon.co.uk

Read the Excerpt

Catrina kicked off her boots at the door, idle hand sliding unconsciously up the wall to the light switch. The room sparked into dimly lit life. She threw her jacket over the back of the sofa. It–along with every other piece of furniture in her apartment, every strip of wallpaper and carpet fitting–was property of the man she worked for. Anthony Gostanzo, the closest thing she accepted to a father in her world. The can of soda she pulled out of the otherwise empty refrigerator was paid for by the work she completed for Tony.

The open plan living room-cum-kitchenette-cum-breakfast bar was clean and minimalist; the only sign that anyone even lived in the apartment was a week’s worth of clothes trailing from the front door to the bedroom.

She discarded her top like shed skin on her way to the bathroom. The halogen spotlights inside the box of marble white walls and gleaming porcelain fixtures showed the mess she’d managed to make of herself.

The bruise, greening towards the edges, stood out against her pale neck as a new asphyxiation accessory, two thick thumb prints completing the look. She lifted hair away from her forehead. A splattering of dried blood ran across one side of her hairline. She scooped a few handfuls of warm water from the tap and splashed at the wound. A fresh sting brought tears to her eyes. More scrapes up her arm showed how heavily she’d fallen, and her busted lip was scabbed; she picked at it a few times before willing herself to stop.

After dismantling the Beretta on her dressing table, leaving the loose pieces scattered in amongst her makeup and the luxury facial care gift set her boss and foster father, Tony, had bought her two Christmases ago, she changed into an oversized t-shirt and shorts for bed. The shirt was one of the few things she considered “inherited”, since the man it had belonged to was dead. While not much of an heirloom, she considered it–along with the Beretta–one of the most precious things she possessed.

She sat cross-legged at the foot of her unmade bed, rolling the bullet that had set this in motion between her fingers. Failing to load into the chamber, it had jammed the slide open, rendering her unarmed and in the company of some very angry men. This tiny piece of metal could’ve been the death of her, if it hadn’t been for Fox.

She tried not to believe that the decisions in life were controlled by Fate, although plenty of events in her life suggested otherwise. Fate had landed her in the care of Tony Gostanzo in the first place, when running away from home at a far too young age, she’s accidently ran into the path of his car. Fate had led her into the business, when one of Tony’s rivals had mistaken her for his daughter; a particularly memorable week that had ended when she–then twelve years old–had shot her kidnapper in the kneecap and pushed him off a second-storey balcony. That had been seven years ago.

The LCD on her bedside clock said that dawn was on its way by the time she crawled under the sheets. She had to accept the possibility then that Fate caused her gun to jam. Fate forced Fox to intervene. Fate brought the proposition to her, and perhaps Fate was expecting her to accept.

If you haven’t yet read “The Genesis“,
now would be a good time to pick it up.

Amazon.com | Amazon.co.uk

Read the Excerpt

The address on the card was farther than she’d expected. She thought she knew the city like the back of her hand. As it happened, this neighbourhood was entirely unfamiliar. The third time she’d smacked the back of the driver’s chair in impatience and asked if he couldn’t go any faster, he had threatened to kick her out in the middle of nowhere. She considered using the Beretta to speed him up, but since most cab drivers were armed to the teeth, and she couldn’t drive stick-shift, she relented.

Her watch said 20:04 by the time she threw herself out of the cab, leaving a fistful of notes for the driver to pick through. With her head too full of possibilities and what waited at her destination, she hadn’t taken stock of the area until the cab was peeling away.

Sirens wailed from a few streets over. Out of habit, she felt for her gun before approaching the stone steps outside the building. She was surprised to see that the sleek, black Mercedes parked outside the house was unscratched, or that there was even one there at all. Thieves and vandals were surely not deterred by the pale, pixie-faced redhead leaning on the hood with a cigarette hanging loosely between her smiling lips.

The girl caught her eye as Catrina passed, nodded a passing acknowledgement before returning her attention to the phone in her hand.

The door at the top of the stairs was locked. While there were what appeared to be ten apartments in this building, none of them were labelled with names. Static burst from the intercom before she had a chance to start hitting random buttons. “Look into the camera.”

“Hello?” she called back into the panel. “I’m here to see Fox.”

“Look. Into. The camera,” came the gruff reply.

When she squinted, she could just about make out a button-sized lens poking out from a darkened corner. She moved into its line of sight. The door buzzed open, and she pushed her way into complete darkness. Once the front door closed, another buzzing indicated the inner door unlocked, and she entered the building itself.

Disappointment swelled in her chest, assuming no government facility make such effort as to cover itself up as what appeared to be a very seedy apartment building. The whole place reeked of mould and mildew. Guided only by the knowledge that she was still armed, and that life without a little risk was not worth living, she approached the portly little man sitting behind what could laughably be called a front desk.

“You’re late,” he said without looking up from his newspaper.

“By four minutes,” she protested, without knowing who she was even arguing with.

He checked the nearby clock. “Six minutes.” He looked her over shamelessly, scratching the day-old stubble under his chin that was longer than any hair on his head.

“Getting a good look?” she challenged.

He rolled his eyes and jerked a thumb towards the end of the hall, returning his attention to the paper. “He’s in nine. Third floor, on the left. Oh, and the elevator’s broken,” he called after her, just before she hit the button for it.

Three flights of stairs with a bag full of her worldly possessions was not her idea of a great start. To make matters worse, the room Fox gestured her into when she finally met him on the third floor, had same charm of the rest of the building. It was the kind of place people came to either have illicit sex or consider suicide, perhaps one after the other. Everything was bare; the walls weren’t even painted, let alone papered, and the bed consisted of a bare mattress with pillows, but no sheets.

“You’re late,” he said as welcome, closing the door behind her.

“Yeah, I’ve been told.” She dipped her head, catching her breath, and adding, “Sorry. This place is…” A dump. “Really something.”

“It’s a safe house. It doesn’t have to be anything, so long as it serves its purpose.” He kept an unusual distance, close to pinning himself against the door, while concern marred his featureless face. He must’ve noticed her laboured breathing, because he then asked, “Are you alright?”

She took another sharp intake of air and wondered if will alone could stop her heart from thundering in her ears. “Elevator’s broken.”

Fox frowned. “No, it isn’t.”

“That bastard,” she muttered, cursing the man downstairs. She put the carry-all down. “Well, here I am. What happens now?”

“So you’ve decided?” His voice was strained, like the rest of his body language. She tried to smile at him; it went without a response and if anything he only appeared to be more agitated.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” This was not the man she remembered from the previous night. Something had to be wrong. Maybe the opportunity had fallen through. “Now, not to sound ungrateful from the offset, but when I start, I won’t be based…here, will I?” She looked at the boarded windows, the empty shell of a room inside a broken down building. “No offence, but this place is kind of a step down to what I already–” When she turned back, she came face-to-chest with him. He wasn’t quite looking at her, focusing more on a spot over her shoulder. She tried to take a step back, but he followed, keeping no more than a handful of inches away.

And all at once her brilliant choice didn’t seem quite so appealing. She was in a strange place, with a man whose unusual abilities were superseded only by his bi-polar behaviour.

Thankfully, she still had her gun. Fast though he might be, he would never outrun a bullet. She was already reaching for her weapon, before he spoke.

“You’re going to make this so much harder than it has to be,” he whispered as warning. “You have to trust me.”

“The hell I do,” she snapped. Like the calm before the storm, a few seconds passed in silence, with only the sound of their equally shallow breathing. She clicked the gun’s safety with her thumb.

“Don’t,” he warned, the word coming out like a growl, and the brush of his breath making her whole body shudder. He pressed the balls of his hands against his temples, seething. Seeing the only opportunity she might ever have, she ducked under his arm and made a mad rush for the door.

His boots thundered on bare floorboards as he came after her. She got her hands around the door handle only to find it locked. As she tried to twist it, strong hands locked her arms around her chest, forcing the gun out of her grip. He dragged her, kicking and screaming, away from escape. She kicked her legs out trying in desperation to break the door down, but it only served to push her closer against his unyielding body.

That’s when the needle went into her neck.

Any hope at stopping him died in the arms that remained locked by her chest. Her fleeting consciousness wondered how he could administer a lethal injection when both his arms were keeping hers pinned to her chest. She tried to open her eyes but saw nothing other than black spots marring a white canvas. Her own stupidity taunted her failing vision, at how easily she could have let herself be carried away by promises of greatness.

With her heart drumming in her chest, her final, desperate scream died in her throat, and her last shreds of consciousness slipped away, taking her life with it.

Downstairs, the bald man continued to turn the pages of his newspaper as the screams resonated through the building’s very bricks, and outside the red-headed girl looked up to the third floor, idle curiosity reflecting in her black, soulless eyes.

The thing about inspiration is that it strikes at really weird–and usually inopportune–moments. A certain music track can send the creative side of your brain into overdrive, or you see a film and realise that the amazing idea you had last week was already done in 1990. Best yet are in the minutes before you’re about to drift away into dreamland, your brain jerks you awake to the chimes of “Hey, bitch! I just figured out how to sort out that plot hole you’ve been crying about for a month. Don’t go back to sleep or you’ll forget it!”

That’s why I’m so thankful for my iPhone. I keep the Notes app on the home page, and at the minute there are easily twenty or so notes, ideas that I’ve had at 3AM, woken from a dream or just while sitting on the toilet (and don’t act all high and mighty like you don’t use your phone on the toilet, alright? Everybody does.).

They’re not all amazing ideas, of course. But the thing about ideas as opposed to finished goods is that you’re allowed to have bad ones. Besides, Muse works hard as a net to catch the shit ideas, so any new ones I get don’t tend to be developed until I’ve had the green light from her.

Anyway, the point I’m skirting around is this nifty little influence map thing I came across quite a long time ago on Deviant Art, which I’ve just now got around to filling in. Having a reminder of the things that inspire you can come in super handy when you’re having a difficult day, a reminder why you love the things you do.

Really long and overblown explanations for my choices are below. Despite the guidance at the bottom of the map, the size of the images doesn’t really correlate with the amount of influence these things have: it’s just that certain ones looked cooler in difference shapes and sizes.

Also, after completing the map, I then got a bit carried away and made a video about some of them. So now that exists.

Blade

Because obviously. I love everything about Blade and find it to be a near perfect vampire film. The setup of the world it takes place in, the relationship between characters (especially the surrogate father/son business between Blade and Whistler), the idea of vampires taking over the world and only one epic badass to stand in the way…it’s all just so neat. The opening sequence at the club is one of my favourite openings to any film.

Plus, Deacon Frost is a great villain. He’s young, ambitious, arrogant. He wears really high collared shirts. Everything you should look for in a man.

One of my favourite things about Blade, and to a lesser extent Blade: Trinity is that they do not involve any romantic storylines whatsoever. That’s one of the reasons why, in my opinion, the second Blade film failed so very hard, because of the pointless romance bit sandwiched in (I know it’s not really romance, but it’s weird nonetheless). That and the dislocating jaw vampires. They didn’t help, either.

Ergo Proxy

This is a bit of a weird one. I have seen the Ergo Proxy series twice now, once with the English dub and once in Japanese with subtitles (I like to watch things with subtitles from time to time, because it makes me feel intelligent when I can read), and I’m undecided as to whether I even like it.

It’s very slow paced, layered deep and thick with over-arcing themes, and it’s quite heavy to sit through. That said, there’s this whole “gods” thing that I go all faint over, which is why I think I am drawn to it. Plus, the art is lush, and the score is haunting and despondent. Just the kind of thing you want on a Saturday afternoon.

The Lost Boys

The Lost Boys was the first vampire film I ever saw, and I have long since attributed it–along with American Werewolf in London–to my interest in the supernatural. I remember we used to have it on VHS (remember those?), recorded from a late night showing on BBC2. It was also one of the first DVDs I bought, when those first came about. I’d say I still watch it around once a month. The characters are fun, it’s a nice mix of tones, the story is told from every angle, the music is so 80′s it hurts (but in a good way! You don’t get sexy greased up, half-naked men playing a saxophone quite like you get it in The Lost Boys), and it has a young Keifer Sutherland as a hot vampire. Plus, without it, we wouldn’t have this great picture, and the world would be a sadder place as a result.

The Matrix

There is some link between the first time I ever saw The Matrix (at my 16th birthday party in January 2000) and when I wrote the very first draft of “The Genesis” a mere two months later. The very first draft of the Genesis was essentially The Matrix with vampires in it, right down to the long black coats and Catrina being “the One”. So if Jacob was Morpheus, and Catrina was Neo, obviously, that would make Fox Trinity. Brilliant.

While the story has evolved from its basic origin since then, there are still some small sweeps of its influence in there.

The Matrix is just fantastic down to the very last detail, and another favourite soundtrack in there, as well.

Joss Whedon

Joss Whedon is one of my idols. He brought us Buffy, who I’ll get to further down, as well as great incredible series such as Firefly and Dollhouse. He’s an immensely talented writer. I both envy and adore him. Plus, he writes some epic women. (Side note: Whedon was once asked in an interview why he writes the strong female characters that he’s known for, to which he simply responded: “Because you’re still asking me that question.” (transcript of that can be found here.))

The Usual Suspects

Ah, the film that gave us Keyser Söze and the line “And like that…he’s gone.”.

I remember watching The Usual Suspects for the first time on DVD. I watched it twice in the same day, because the ending was so freaking epic and I just couldn’t believe it, and realised on the second watch (and many subsequent viewings) all the signs I’d missed. It’s one of the few films that really changes once you’ve seen it through.

Stylistically, the film is gritty and dirty and wonderful. The score is eerie; I have it permanently listed in most of my writing playlists. The characters are simply brilliant and their with their on-screen camaraderie you just can’t help but fall in love with their little band of criminals.

The witty dialogue, clever twists, and sprinkles of clues throughout are the real nuggets here. The only unfortunate thing about The Usual Suspects is that you can only watch it in that “I’m so shocked/never saw it coming” kind of way once, since after you know what happens, your viewing experience is forever altered. When private selective amnesia rays are invented (and they will be), I will use mine to erase my knowledge of this film so I can watch it again and again and again.

Side note: This was the first DVD I owned that had its own Special Features disc, and the first film commentary I ever listened to. It’s my favourite commentary, because Bryan Singer is adorable, and I can’t get enough of listening to him and writer Christopher McQuarrie saying: “Does the dog die? Does the dog get killed in the fire?”, “No, the dog lives. The dog definitely lives.”

Justine Musk

She’s just an incredible, amazing woman. I first came across Musk’s work while perusing the virtual aisles of Amazon.co.uk, and my magpie eye was taken with the shiny cover of a book called “Bloodangel”. (I should also include an honourable mention to the illustrator Christian McGrath here, who is responsible not only for bringing me to Musk’s work, but also piqued my interest in the Dresden Files and the Cal Landros series by Rob Thurman, among others. Anyway, check out his web site. Thinking about it, I really should’ve included him on the map. Oh, well.)

Where was I? Oh yes, Justine. So I got the first book, devoured it in about two days (which is good for me. I’m a massively lazy reader), promptly bought the second, devoured that, too, and I’ve been waiting for the next instalment ever since.

She lately seems to have drifted from her authoring to concentrate focus on her inspirational posts and other work at her web site TribalWriter.com, which is fine, I guess (sad face). She talks a lot about women and gender roles, assumed stereotypes and how we as a culture should overcome them, as well as general posts about creativity, which are all fabulous.

You should also buy her book. Just sayin’.

The Land Before Time

Oh God, this film.

As a child, I watched this on video ALL THE TIME, so much so that I had two copies on VHS: one at home, and one at my grandparent’s house where I spent many a weekend, just so I could be sure to watch it whenever I wanted. Translate that to ALL THE TIME.

The strange thing is that as a child, I don’t think I really appreciated the power behind the story itself, and I don’t recall ever crying at it when I was young.

Now, though, hooooo. Now I cry at all of it; not just the obvious part. I cry when Littlefoot is born. I cry when his mother fights Sharptooth. I cry when the earthquake splits the families. I cry when he hears his mother’s voice in the tree star. I cry when Cera crawls into the group to sleep because she’s cold. I cry when he chases his mother’s spirit into the Great Valley and then calls his friends to join him, and he says “We did it! We did it together!”. Just thinking about it makes me a little bit blubbery. I sometimes cry just hearing the music (which is also beautiful), which is a first for me.

It’s just SO FREAKING POWERFUL.

It’s also beautifully animated by Don Bluth, who is an animation genius.

And no, I haven’t seen any of the sequels and have no intention of doing. Ever.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

I am of the opinion that if you do not like at least some of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, then there’s something fundamentally wrong with you. It might be wrong of me to think that, but there you go.

If The Lost Boys got me interested in vampires in the first place, Buffy kept me interested in my teens (and beyond!).

Buffy is another “chosen one” a la Matrix (though technically before The Matrix came out – I’m not the only idea thief! \o/); it is her destiny to hunt vampires, leaving her in the unfortunate situation of balancing high school life with hunting monsters.

I love the writing on the show, in particular the ensemble cast and the show’s ability to involve most–if not all–of them enough to make you genuinely care about everyone.

And I love the balance of tone, the equal measures of comedy and drama, the witty banter and the clever storylines. All in all, just a great show, with lots and lots to draw from.

Final Fantasy VII

What can I say about Final Fantasy VII? Well, first of all, if you haven’t read it already, I’d suggest you read my MtWNB post about it, since I do a lot of my gushing there. I don’t know why so many people (myself included) fawn over this game (and, by proxy, the franchise as a whole). Aside from the music, which is all epic, a lot of it is in the story. I must’ve played through VII about ten times, and I still don’t fully understand what happened to Cloud.

And then there’s all the spin off junk, Crisis Core, the anime, the film (that’s “Advent Children”, not the other Final Fantasy film which has nothing to do with anything), Dirge of Cerberus. It’s all great stuff, although I suspect I’m somewhat flawed in my opinions due to my love for the original game.

Still, nothing cheers me up quite like listening to the prelude music from the game:

It’s just so full of whimsy and gives me nostalgiagasms like nothing else can.

The Faculty

This might seem like another weird choice. I remember going to see this at the cinema with a friend from school. Turned out she and I were the only two people in the entire cinema, so it didn’t seem to turn that many heads at the box office. The general consensus of this movie among alien film fans is that it’s a poor man’s Invasion of the Body Snatchers, which I’ve never seen, so…

One of the main things that kept me coming back to this movie is the soundtrack, which I still have a CD of, even though it is scratched to buggery, as it was a perfect rendition of mid-to-late 90′s rock, an era I still desperately cling to twelve years later.

The Faculty was written by Kevin Williamson (the writer behind Scream, Cursed, and the TV adaptation of The Vampire Diaries), and while the story itself is not my usual taste, I overlook the aliens bit, because of his wonderful characterisations and interaction between the band of misfits and miscreants forced together to deal with aliens taking over their school.

Plus, this was the first film I saw with Josh Hartnett in it, thus beginning the obsession.

Tunnels and Underground/Abandoned Areas

First of all, the fact that I’m fascinated by tunnels might in fact be some psychological sign that I am actually a lesbian. But anyway, that aside.

There’s just something so mesmerizing about buildings with their insides exposed, ruined walls and dust-covered scatterings of furniture, or long tunnels with only vague flickers of light to lead the way through man-made (and natural) structures gouged through the earth itself.

Basically, pictures of underground areas and abandoned buildings are kind of like my porn. There, I said it.

Skinny Puppy/Music

A little picture that covers a lot. If you haven’t noticed from the previous entries, a lot of my favourite things about my favourite things are soundtracks and scores.

I write better to music. I write blog posts on the music I write to. I’m not really sure why I chose Skinny Puppy as the embodiment of that influence. Maybe because they’re weird. I don’t know.

Supernatural

What do you get the show that’s got everything?

What started as a story about two hunter brothers looking for their missing father, the show essentially became a story of good versus evil, another destiny rider, and – you guessed it – more chosen ones!

The show merges large, long story arcs with episodic intervals, mostly the brothers hunting every single type of monster in the world.

It’s writing is so sharp, and the character interactions are priceless, in particular the relationship the brothers have, and – in later series – the odd friendship that develops between Dean and the angel Castiel.

I also like Supernatural because of the influences the show itself takes from classic horror stories, 80s rock and metal, urban legends, and Star Wars, to name but a few.

The Dark Crystal

Another childhood favourite, Jim Henson’s The Dark Crystal was another VHS recorded off the TV kind of deal. I remember it being a recording because when I finally got around to buying the DVD some years later, I realised that I’d never seen the first two minutes before, where the narrator basically gives you the full story of what you’re about to watch. Which I never saw. I thought it started with the Skeksis taking their power from the dark crystal. In any case, I figured the story out for myself by watching the thing. I was a smart child like that.

I love, love, love the tone of the film, particularly for a children’s film. It’s just so dark. I remember being absolutely terrified as a child, particularly by the Garthim, with their great big bodies and clattering claws. Considering that these puppets are made by the same people who made Kermit the Frog, I’d say that’s quite an achievement. The Emperor’s death where he crumbles to pieces is a work of genius.

Besides, the Garthim and the Skeksis might have all terrified me, but I still watched the film into oblivion, to the point that I can still quote the entire film, word for word. Like a boss. Except the first two minutes, of course, because they were never drilled into my subconscious as a child.

The story, while arguably simplistic, is your classic “good versus evil”, the hero’s journey, all about destiny, about prophecies, about chosen ones. It immerses you into this magical other world, where you truly believe the powers of good and evil can be governed by a giant shard of purple glass.

The Dark Crystal also has some brilliant female characters, both Ogra and Kira, who in my humble opinion are so great because their actions, abilities and mannerisms are not at all defined by their gender.

And lastly, the soundtrack is a wonder in of itself, brought to us by composer Trevor Jones, the man also responsible for the Labyrinth soundtrack.

Dark Angel

Back when there were only four terrestrial TV channels, I seem to recall Dark Angel played occasionally on Channel 4. I missed the thing entirely when it was first aired in the UK, only ever catching snippet episodes and having a bit of a thing for Logan whenever he popped up. It wasn’t until around 2004 when my now husband moved in with me and he brought his Dark Angel DVDs with him that I sat and watched both series in one weekend. I tend to do that a lot.

So after watching the series on DVD, I can say with some confidence that it is now one of my favourite shows of all time. I love everything about it: the broken post-pulse city of Seattle that you could believe would happen, genetically-engineered soldiers, the military regime of Manticore (the episode(s) that show the place itself are some of my favourites) and how Max is just a little bit better/different than the others (aren’t they always?).

Anne Rice

Closing with more of an honourable mention, since I can’t really claim her work hasn’t had some influence over my writing in general, although in what capacity is difficult to say. I love the Interview with the Vampire film and its ability to really immerse you into the time and story. That said, I haven’t read all of Rice’s books, only Interview, Queen of the Damned, and The Vampire Armand, and I have to say I find some of her work a little “hit and miss”, particularly “Interview”, which I came very close to hating. I just wanted to slap Louis, screaming “Cheer up, you miserable bastard!” for 300 pages. But anyway, I digress, yes Anne Rice’s work still has some sway over my own, and the stuff I do like, I really like.

I should point out that this map is by no means an exhaustive list of all the things I draw influences from/get inspired by, rather they’re the most prominent ones that came to me when I first sat down and thought about it. I can already think of a number of others. Maybe I’ll cover them in another post.

If you want to do your own influence map, check out the template and information here.

Inspiration takes many forms. What inspires you? What do you draw from in your work?

So today I discovered that 2012 is the Chinese Year of the Dragon. I’ve never really paid attention to the Chinese zodiac before, but since I’m zany for all things winged and fire-breathing (and I realise Chinese dragons are neither, but SHH), I went on over to the fountain of all knowledge Wikipedia and read a little bit about it, after which of course I became a total expert.

Now, the thing I never realised about the Chinese zodiac before today, is that it runs a twelve year cycle. This means that when I first started what is now the Blood of Ages series, it was also the Year of the Dragon. Am I taking this as a sign? You bet I am!

As with any horoscope, the fact that it is the Year of the Dragon will likely have a 0% impact on my year, and the chances of being able to predict any outcome based on the alignment of the planets are about as reliable as winning the lottery based on the ramblings of Mystic Meg.

That said, I am not a total sceptic, it’d be nice to think that the odds are in my favour this year, and from this information I am taking solace in the idea that 2012 is going to be a good year for me, and for my writing.

So happy Year of the Dragon, people!