What is with top-tier criminals and antique bookshops?
It’s a sort of cliché, the international man (or woman) of mystery that in their everyday life manage an antique book shop somewhere cool and elegant.
In the case of Anna, the character portrayed by Meggie Q in The Protégé, the antique book shop is in London. And as it usually happens in this sort of movies, it will be thoroughly thrashed sometime around the end of the first reel.
The whole Origin
I
n the end it took me more than 18 months.
It was early may 2019 when I decided to splurge 30 bucks on the first volume of the Vertical edition of Mobile Suite Gundam: The Origin, the reboot/redesign of the original 1979 TV series Mobile Suite Gundam as a manga, by the original character designer Yoshikazu “Yas” Yasuhiko.
An object of beauty, a thick massive hardback, printed on high-quality paper and with color inserts and extra features.
The first of twelve volumes.
As I posted about it on the 17th of May 2019, I commented that despite the high cost, I’d probably end up getting the whole series.
I said I was ready to live on instant noodles for the next 18 months.
In fact it took me 27 months.
Buying the whole series meant spending something between 300 and 400 euro.
A lot of money, more than one rate of my mortgage.
So I set myself a challenge – I would buy the remaining 11 volumes using only the money I’d make via my Amazon affiliation links on my Italian language blog. After all, I usually review books, and any commission for sales via my affiliate links get paid as gift cards I can only spend on Amazon anyway.
And so I did it.
And it was not that bad.
I was able to get a new volume every two or three months, without altering my schedule on the blog.
Nice and smooth.
Then, in January this year, somebody filed a complaint to Facebook about my Italian blog, that supposedly spreads hatred and bad propaganda with its mix of book reviews, publishing updates and the occasional recipe.
As a result, my contents were blocked on Facebook, and the number of visits dropped.
I had just got volume 11 of Gundam: The Origin for Christmas, and all of a sudden, the very marginal income I made via my affiliate links had dried up.
It took me 8 months to make the 23 euro I needed for the last volume.
And incidentally it goes to show that my original estimate had been correct.
I had only failed to consider the possibility of my blog being blocked on Facebook.
But what the heck, I had made my decision, and I was not going to change it just because some prick had decided to sabotage my Italian blog.
Eight months.
The 12th and last volume of the series was delivered by the postman one hour ago.
I have a complete set.
Now I might go, re-read it, and review every single volume.
Let’s keep this as a project for the long cold winter nights.
Non Disclosure Agreement
I have just signed a contract for a big-ish writing job, something large and fun and different that, with a modicum of luck, will come out next year and will carry my name on the cover (or somewhere inside).
Something I cannot tell you about, for a publisher I cannot disclose, part of a project that shall remain unnamed.
Aren’t non disclosure agreements a wonder?
But I can tell you this is one of two big jobs I have lined up for the autumn (the second being still pending), a big fat 80.000 words writing adventure that I will have to plan carefully and execute with speed, elegance and panache.
Or something.
It will mean reading a lot of interesting books for research (a couple I have read already early in the summer), and then write, write, write.
So, the basic equipment is here and is ready
- a BIC pen and a copybook
- a stack of books
- a folder filled with ebooks
- Scrivener
- a virtually infinite supply of tea
The vacations are over.
Time to get to work.
And also time to find a way to post updates about my work here, without telling you about what I am writing.
This is going to be fun.
A drink with Mary
So, here’s what’s happening: I am writing a short story.
Big deal, you say – that’s what you do for a living, of course you’re writing a story.
Which is somewhat correct, but let me explain…
Saturday this thing appeared in my mailbox…
An evening drink on the beach in Sicily, with a side of an appearance by the Virgin Mary (whose Ascension was celebrated on Sunday), and a complimentary rosary.
Free admission, donations welcome.
You see where I am going?
How could I not write a story about this?
Tackling my brother’s passion for cocktails, and my old interest in Tiki lounges and exotica?
Of course I had to do it.
So there you have it.
I’m writing it.
Then I’ll post it to my Patrons.
Then… we’ll see.
Blair Reynolds has left the building
I never met Blair Reynolds, and I believe we never exchanged more than a few words on a mailing list that’s long been lost in the dark alleys of the web, far from the glitter and bustle of social media.
And yet, I owe Blair Reynolds much of what I am today.
Let me tell you.
It was more or less twenty-five years ago that I was browsing the stacks of my friendly local game shop (that was not that local, nor that friendly) when I spotted a magazine with a sepia cardboard cover, and on that cover there was an image.
This image, on this magazine.
That cover had been drawn by Blair Reynolds, that was not just an excellent artist, but also a superb writer, as I discovered digging into the magazine.
I bought that magazine, and then tried to track down every other issue.
And because we had this hot new thing called the internet in those days, I looked around, and I found a community of people that shared my interests in roleplaying games, Lovecraftian fiction and other assorted weirdness.
We started chatting.
Four or five years later, because I had bought that mag and started that conversation, I made my first professional sale – and my stuff was published in a book that featured a bunch of Nazis and a swastika on the cover.
I got a lot of strange looks because of that.
That cover had been painted by Blair Reynolds.
Flash forward twenty years, and I still get the weird looks, and I make my living writing in English.
And it all goes back to that weird, disturbing cover on the 6th issue of The Unspeakable Oath.
Because of it I met people that shared my interests.
Because of it I found the courage to start writing in English.
Because of it I made my first professional sale as a writer.
Because of it, in the long run, I am earning my keep.
We never met, and we barely ever spoke to each other, but Blair Reynolds is one of the handful of people I can truly say made me what I am.
Blair Reynolds died a few hours ago, and I will never meet him, and I will never speak with him.
But I owe him a fair share of my life.
He will be missed.
Selkies, Sirens & Sea Monsters (and Octopodes)
The anthology Water: Selkies, Sirens & Sea Monsters, edited by Rhonda Parrish, is out tomorrow, just in time for a nice relaxing read on the beach. Advance reviews were extremely positive.
The volume features my short story The man who speared octopodes, about a man that, you know, spears octopodes, for… reasons.
Check it out.
Violent Femmes (not the band)
I was 23 when Luc Besson’s La Femme Nikita hit the screens, and it was wild.
There had been action thrillers before, of course, but none like this – Anne Perillaud was absolutely stunning, and she was a killer.
In the true sense of the word.
La Femme Nikita was tough, dark in an almost neo-noir way, elegantly shot, and it featured a woman that did what usually was done by a guy, in this kind of movies.
Fast forward thirty years, and the kick-ass dame has become a common trope of modern action cinema, to the point it is now almost its own genre – the crime/espionage action thriller with the lone woman fighting her way from the first act to the third. You know, stuff like Atomic Blonde.
Today being Sunday, and this being August, I decided to take one day off. I spent the morning (re)reading the dark, disquieting The Devil in Nanking, by the late lamented Mo Hayder, and in the afternoon, it being too hot for anything else, I started the fan and then went to see what Prime Video had to offer.
I watched three movies. First, I watched Kate Beckinsale kick ass in New York in Jolt, then I watched Sasha Luss kick ass in Paris in Luc Besson’s Anna, and finally I watched Karen Gillan kick ass in Berlin in Gunpowder Milkshake.
Let’s talk about it.
Karavansara 