C.M. Saunders's Blog, page 25

Some characters you create, and some you just wish you’d created.

Deviant Dolls

What’s the best character you’ve ever written? What’s the one character you wish you’d written? These are the hard questions I like to put to other authors, but rarely like answering myself. (Don’t worry, I do answer this one)

The Dolls had to answer me, or else I’d be bitchy at them for weeks, so here are the best characters they’ve written, and/or the one they wish they’d written:

Katrina: I wish I’d written Calamity Leek from The First Book of Calamity Leek. I love kid characters in adult books, but especially ones that have one over on the adults–they see more, learn more, do more… Calamity is a force to be reckoned with at only ten or eleven years old in her clan of crazy, heathen sisters.

Christian: What’s with all these impossible fucking questions? Jesus. That’s not my answer, by the way. Okay, not a…

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Title: Tucker & Dale Vs Evil

Year of Release: 2010

Director: Eli Craig

Length: 89 minutes

Starring: Tyler Labine, Alan Tudyk, Katrina Bowden

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There haven’t been many films made in the past decade which I’ve been able to watch repeatedly. In fact, Tucker & Dale Vs Evil is probably the only one. But even our happy co-existence didn’t get off to a great start. Some time in 2015 (I think), it came on the Horror Channel. As per usual, I had the Horror Channel on in the background while I did something else. Not being familiar with the film, I had it down as just A.N. Other low-budget gore fest. It is, of course. But it is much more than that. It wasn’t until about half way through that I actually stopped what I was doing and started paying attention. Even then, I was hit with a few “WTF?” moments before I was able to settle down enough to enjoy it. It was a lot funnier than I expected. Obviously, having missed the first half I made a point of catching it the next time it was on (which was probably about three days later) and then watched it another couple of times over the next two years or so just because it’s a fucking riot.

Tucker (Tudyk) and Dale (Labine) are two well-meaning redneck hillbilly types with a knack for getting it wrong. Awfully wrong. They also happen to be the unluckiest duo in movie history. Whilst on their way to their newly-acquired vacation cabin deep in the woods, Dale tries talking to a couple of girls at a truck stop but is hamstrung by crippling anxiety (“I hate my face!”). The group of college kids from the truck stop are camping nearby, and amuse each other by telling campfire stories about a psychotic hillbilly serial killer who slaughtered a bunch of college kids years previously and buried their bodies in the wilderness. This puts everyone on edge, and when one of the girls (Allison, played by Katrina Bowden from 30 Rock and the movies Sex Drive, Scary Movie 5 and Piranha 3DD) falls and knocks herself unconscious whilst skinny-dipping, she is rescued by Tucker and Dale who are out on a fishing trip, only for her friends to completely misread the situation and assume she was being held captive. They run away, leaving our calamitous duo to take her back to their vacation cabin. She awakes the next morning to Dale’s pancake breakfast and a slobbering dog. He persuades her to sit tight and play his favourite board game with him while they wait for her friends to come and pick her up. The friends, who prove to be even more of a liability than Rucker and Dale, then start accidentally dying. As Tucker notes, “There we were minding our own business, just doing chores around the house, when kids started killing themselves all over my property.”

Meanwhile, though her friends are convinced she is suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, could romance be blossoming between Dale and Allison? “I should have known if a guy like me talked to a girl like you, somebody would end up dead.”

Written and directed by Canadian Eli Craig, who had a role in Carrie 2: The Rage (1999), Tucker & Dale Vs Evil was shelved before finally being unveiled at the Sundance Film Festival in January 2010 and enjoying a limited theater run the following year. Labelled as a horror-comedy, it is much more of a comedy than a horror, bucking the trend set down by offerings like Dog Soldiers, Severance or An American Werewolf in London, and is full of killer (boom!) one-liners (“He’s heavy for half a guy!”). Upon release, and since, Tucker and Dale Vs Evil has garnered generally favourable reviews. Writing for Empire, Adam Smith said it was, “Genuinely funny. A life lesson in prejudicing a man just because he is skinning a squirrel,” while the Guardian called the film, “Ingenious.” It also won a slew of industry awards including the prestigious ‘Audience Award’ at the SXSW Film Festival and the Fangoria Chainsaw award for best screenplay.

Trivia Corner:

Following the cult success of the first movie, a sequel was highly touted, However, this failed to materialize. Nobody was quite sure why, until someone asked Alan Tudyk in an interview. Apparently, the material just wasn’t strong enough. “I heard the synopsis,” Tudyk said, “And the general reaction from Eli was ‘No fucking way.’”

Just over a hundred years ago, fighting in the Great War came to an end following the signing of an armistice between the Allies and Germany.

What better time than to share an extract from my novella No Man’s Land?

No man’s land was deathly still and quiet. Nothing stirred.

As he and Sergeant Lewis made their way through almost complete darkness exasperated by a swirling ground mist, Harry’s heart hammered so hard in his chest he could almost feel it in his throat. Either as a result of nerves, anxiety, or the bone-numbing cold, he was trembling so much that several times his finger slipped onto the trigger of his Enfield. Despite having the safety switch being on, each time it happened he mentally checked himself, afraid he would loose off a shot by mistake and shoot the Sarge up the arse. That wouldn’t look good in the report.

The pot-holed, water-logged ground was soft and boggy underfoot. So much so that in some places, his feet sank past the ankles. Each time he pulled out his boot it made a disgusting wet squelching sound as the ground tried to suck him back in, possibly in an attempt to swallow him whole. Occasionally he would tread down on something hard and unforgiving, some foreign object trapped beneath the surface which felt almost brittle underfoot. He daren’t look down to see what it was, even if visibility allowed such a luxury.

It was far too risky to use lamps to light their way, which in Harry’s opinion made reconnaissance missions worthless. If they didn’t know what they were looking for, and it was too dark to see anything anyway, what was the bloody point?

But he wasn’t in charge. He had been a soldier long enough to know that very often, there were ulterior motives for being asked to do things. Sometimes the real reasons were hidden behind veils, and subordinates like him were rarely afforded a glimpse of the bigger picture.

He kept losing sight of Sarge, even though he maintained a distance of no more than three or four yards behind him. Each time he did so, he felt a small knot of panic begin to bubble up inside him and quickened his pace slightly to catch up. Then, the rugged outline of his NCO would drift back into view and the panic would be replaced by a surge of relief. If he could choose anyone he had ever met, or anyone from history for that matter, to be out here with him tonight, he would choose Sergeant Lewis. Or maybe Ghengis Khan.

The darkness and the unfamiliar terrain were disorienting. Even though Harry was sure they were heading diagonally away from the allied trenches, with no markers or even stars to light the way, there was no real way to be sure. For all he knew, they could be walking a path straight into enemy lines.

            Don’t get lost, don’t get lost, don’t get lost, he repeated to himself. Keep calm, stay alert, follow the Sarge, and above all…

            DON’T GET LOST!

If Sarge was suffering from nerves, it didn’t show. Instead, he just carried on moving silently across the ravaged landscape, crouching slightly to make himself a smaller target, and turning his head slowly from side to side as he went, constantly scanning their surroundings. He had substituted his standard-issue Enfield for a Vickers machine-gun. The Vickers was a fearsome weapon, and quite new to the battlefield. Harry had never even fired one, but he knew all about the reputation they had. Capable of firing up to five hundred .303 rounds a minute to a distance of over four thousand yards, they could literally rip men to pieces.

The Sarge’s choice of weapon sent mixed signals to Harry. Due to its sheer size and weight, the Vickers gun was usually manned by a crew of two; a gunner and someone to feed belts of ammo through it. The fact that Sarge carried the thirty-five pound weapon, plus ammo, as if it were a toy, suggested he was as strong as an ox. It also suggested he expected a fire fight.

As Harry pondered this Sarge suddenly stopped walking, holding his machine-gun steady with his right hand while signalling with his left.

Harry hurried to catch up, clutching his webbing tight to his body to stop it jangling. He had decided to leave most of his kit back in the trench, the whole idea of this mission was to be in and out quickly, then back inside an hour. Even so, there was a combat knife strapped to his leg, several ammo pouches scattered about his person, a number five grenade, and a water bottle clinging to his belt. He also found room for a mini-first aid kit, a box of matches, and some meagre rations. Without wanting to overload himself, he felt he should be prepared for anything.

Dropping to the ground and sinking into the mud next to Sarge, Harry squinted in the general direction that had caught his Sarge’s attention. The NCO made another hand signal and pointed a single, thick, callused finger. From his position, at first Harry could see nothing but swirling clouds of smoke mixed with ground mist. Then, to his horror, his eyes began to distinguish movement.

Something was out there.

There were figures approaching. Two, three, maybe more, moving swiftly and silently across the terrain like ghosts. They too moved without lights.

A German patrol.

Harry’s mouth suddenly lost all its moisture, and he felt his bowels shift uncomfortably. He had never been this close to a German before, having only spied them briefly across the length of the killing fields. The patrol undoubtedly consisted of Sturmmann. Stormtroopers. Specially-trained soldiers known to operate in no man’s land as merciless execution squads. Their mission was simple. To seek and destroy, and they took no prisoners.

Death was practically within touching distance.

Luckily, the patrol was approaching from an angle. Harry and Sarge were not in their eye line, but to risk running for cover now would be suicide. The troopers would certainly be on the lookout for transgressors. Why else would they be prowling around out here in the middle of the night?

Slowly, Harry raised his Enfield, aimed it at the German patrol, and looked down his sights. He could take one out before they even realized that they were under attack, he was sure of it. He and Sarge had the element of surprise on their side.

But Sarge hissed at him through clenched teeth, and shot him a sideways look that didn’t need words to convey its meaning.

            Don’t shoot!

No Man’s Land: Horror in the Trenches is out now via Deviant Dolls Publications.

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A lot of writers talk about their ‘process.’ The thing is, there is no right or wrong way of doing it. Ultimately, you have to figure out what works for you. Maybe this will help.

Deviant Dolls

A common interview question for authors is “Do you have a writing process?” This refers to the little things we do or incorporate into our routine in order to be productive in our writing. It’s fascinating because every writer is different, and some have some pretty weird shit they need/do to keep the creative juices flowing.

Christian: When I write non-fiction, yes. I write down all the main points I want to make in order, then do the necessary research and piece the whole thing together like a puzzle. That’s more of an exact science, and there are formulas to follow.

But when I write fiction, none at all. I generally wing it. I don’t know what works for other people, but I hate routines. Too stifling. I think when you try to pour creativity into a bottle is where it all goes wrong. I set targets like word…

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I’m pleased to announce some of my micro fiction is free to read now on Page & Spine: Fiction Showcase

You could say Angst or Ecstasy is one of my more experimental pieces, and is all about a man’s nocturnal encounter with the succubus of legend.

Succubus: A female demon believed to have sexual intercourse with sleeping men.

I had to edit it a little, at the publication’s request, not to:  “Scare the little old ladies in the audience, some of whom are men.”

Brilliant.

You can read Angst or Ecstasy HERE

WARNING: Adult content

Title: The Howling

Year of Release: 1981

Director: Joe Dante

Length: 89 minutes

Starring: Dee Wallace, Patrick Macnee, Dennis Dugan, Christopher Stone, Slim Pickens, John Carradine, Elisabeth Brooks

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I’ve already covered several werewolf movies in this series (An American Werewolf in London, Dog Soldiers). However, previous entries tend to verge on horror/comedy. I don’t know why, but someone way back in movie history must have decided there was something knee-slappingly funny about people transforming into humungous wolf-like creatures and ripping innocent bystanders into bloody pieces. Not so the Howling. Despite a script dripping with satire (“You were raised in LA, the wildest thing you ever heard was Wolfman Jack.”) adapted from Gary Brandner’s novel by screenwriter John Sayles, who had previously worked with director Joe Dante on tongue-in-cheek classic Piranha, there are precious few chuckles here. Except right at the very end, which we’ll get to in good time. Even now, almost four decades after it was first released, The Howling is still a brutal, terrifying, and deeply disturbing journey into the dark heart of the lycanthrope legend which has long been considered a metaphor for the beast lurking inside all of us, something which is hinted at several times throughout the movie. If you’ve never seen it, that’s something you need to rectify post haste.

Karen White (Scream Queen Dee Wallace, star of horror staples Cujo, the original Hills Have Eyes and Critters, but probably best known for her role in E.T.) is a television news anchor in LA who is being stalked by a serial killer. In conjunction with the police and TV crews, she takes part in a sting operation, agreeing to meet the murderer in a sleazy porno cinema. In the ensuing kerfuffle, the serial killer is shot dead by cops, but Karen is left severely traumatized by it all and suffering from amnesia. Her therapist (Macnee, that bloke off the Avengers) suggests she and her husband (Stone) should spend some time at an exclusive retreat in the countryside to aid her recovery, something they are only too happy to do. Big mistake. The Colony, as they call it, is full of colourful characters, one of them being a nymphomaniac called Marsha (Brooks) who tried to bed Karen’s husband. When he rejects her advances, she follows him into the woods one night and scratches his arm, thereby ‘turning’ him. They later do it next to a bonfire (snigger) in one of those scenes that you probably rewound way too much as a horny teenager, before getting creeped out by the fact that by the end you are essentially watching a couple of Furries getting some. Anyway, Karen soon begins to suspect that something sketchy is going on not just with her husband, but at the retreat as a whole, and calls in a little help from her friends. That’s when things get interesting, if they weren’t interesting enough before.

There’s no getting around it, by today’s standards The Howling does seem awfully dated in parts. But the script is extremely well-written, the cast is a who’s who of the era’s acting talent and, though Rick Baker deservedly won an Oscar for his creature effects on An American Werewolf in London a year later, Rob Bottin’s work here is just as impressive. You can achieve quite a lot with tiny inflatable air bags under latex skin. He lets the side down somewhat in the final scene where Karen morphs into something resembling a cross between a Spaniel and a Golden Retriever live on air, but we’ll let that one slide. I prefer to think that particular scene (a late addition tagged on to the end while Wallace was filming Cujo) is meant as one of those tongue-in-cheek moments. An earlier section where the werewolf attacks Karen’s friend at a secluded cabin in the woods is utterly terrifying, as is the part where our heroine comes face to face with the monster for the first time and watches transfixed as he changes in front of her. The suspense is maintained throughout, and the action rarely lets up. There’s also a fair bit of sex and nudity which led to some reviewers, somewhat unfairly, dubbing it erotic horror. Dante (who also directed Gremlins, Innerspace and Burying the Ex, amongst others) fits all the pieces together nicely, and shows neat little touches like having Little Red Riding Hood playing in the background.

Unsurprisingly, due to its success, the Howling spawned a sequel (Howling II: Your Sister is a Werewolf) in 1985. What is surprising, however, is that despite the sequel being a total flop it then led to a bunch more, none of which were very good. The most recent was the eighth installment released in 2011. Word is that a ninth is in pre-production, a remake of the first, which you would think would round things off nicely. Just as long as they don’t decide to remake the other seven.

Trivia Corner:

Dee Wallace and Christopher Stone were married in RL, having met on an episode of CHiPs before filming started on The Howling. They were together until his death from a werewolf bite (not really. It was a heart attack) in 1995.

Last year I was invited to contribute to an anthology of horror drabbles Kevin Kennedy was putting together. A drabble is a 100-word story. No more, no less. The antho was a huge success, and I thoroughly enjoyed branching out into another form of writing.

I’ve kindly been granted permission to share my contribution with you, so here it is.

Coming Around

By C.M. Saunders

He was being chased down a long, dark tunnel by a pack of dogs. He couldn’t see them, but he could hear them panting and snarling. They were gaining on him. His chest burned. Couldn’t catch his breath. Shooting pains.

Then the tunnel and the dogs began to melt away, and Duncan’s world was spinning into focus. That was a dream?

Where the fuck was he?

Then he remembered. The operation. The heart surgery. He tried to open his eyes. Couldn’t. Too soon. But he could hear noises, like someone tuning a radio. Voices.

“Too bad we couldn’t save him.”

Get it?

There was a lot to fit in, so let me explain a little. It started with hell hounds, who according to mythology, turn up to drag the evil to hell when they die. Then there was a tunnel, so often reported by people on their death beds, the heart surgery (chest pains), and finally the right hook at the end. Yep, our hero is dead. He died during the operation, hence the hell hounds and the tunnel. But I also tried to pose a question. If he’s dead, how can he still hear the doctors talking? Does that mean he’s a ghost? Or do your senses continue for a short while after your vital signs fade?

You decide.

In her review of 100 Word Horrors, Erica Robyn said of Coming Around:

Absolutely terrifying!! This one is a straight up nightmare! 5/5

Thanks, Erica!

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Take a look around our world!

Then turn around and leave, shaking your head in a mixture of disbelief and disappointment…

Deviant Dolls

Christian had this idea that you guys might enjoy knowing a few of our favorite things. Maybe he was wrong, but we’re going to tell you anyway. This week, let’s discuss the website we can’t live without.

Peter: It sounds crap but probably Amazon; I order almost everything I buy from there as I don’t like going out (mostly books and booze).

Christian: Wales Online, for many reasons. I travel a lot, and it’s the best way to keep in touch with things that happen in Wales where I am from. No other website, not even their own, has as much Cardiff City FC coverage. Other than that, I love the wacky news stories they publish, because Wales can be a pretty wacky place. Just the other week, they ran a headline, “MAN ADMITS HAVING SEX WITH HIS TERRIERS, TAFF AND BEN.”

I just love how they gave…

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I’ve been a fan of Welsh rockers the Alarm since I first discovered music in the eighties. Back then, their passion, integrity and sheer intensity spoke to me, and it still does. I’m happy to report that though the intervening thirty years or so have brought ups and downs, for me as well as the band, we are all still here. That’s something to raise a glass to. This might be the first official Alarm album of new material since 2010’s Direct Action. I say ‘might’ because it’s difficult to keep track as Mike Peters (sole survivor of the original incarnation of the Alarm and driving creative force) is one of the most prolific figures in rock. In the past few years there have been countless reissues, soundtracks, live albums and re-recordings of earlier material, as well as the recent Blood Red/Vinyl Black project, mostly put out through his own 21st Century Recordings label, all of which muddy the waters somewhat. You do get the feeling, however, that most of the aforementioned has been leading up to the release of Equals, which has more in common, both lyrically and thematically, with Direct Action than anything that has come between the two releases.

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When I started writing this review, I told myself that it should be more about the music than the man. God knows, there have been more than enough column inches written about Mike Peters’ (and latterly his wife Jules’) health issues. But it quickly became apparent that this was going to be easier said than done, as over the years the music and the struggle have become inexorably linked. Thriving in the face of adversity is a big component of the bigger picture, and in my opinion to not understand and acknowledge the back-story detracts slightly from the power of the music. To quote the Classic Rock review of Equals, “The fact that this album exists at all is a testament to the endurance of the indomitable human spirit in the wake of tragedy and woe.”

The tone is set from the restrained yet subtly defiant opening chords of the first track Two Rivers, an uplifting synth-led rocker with a lyrical focus on redemption and reinvention, and continues into standout track Beautiful, another hard-edged anthem with a soft centre. The next track sees Mike Peters rekindle his bromance with Cult guitarist Billy Duffy, who does a serviceable job adding some depth and potency to Coming Backwards, before the pace drops slightly for Transatlantic. The scathing, socio-political commentary of Crowd Trouble follows before we are hit by Peace Now, a kissing cousin to Neil Young’s Rocking in the Free World, which The Alarm covered in 1991 for their Raw album. A nice touch is the repurposing of Pink Floyd’s famous “Just another brick in the wall” lyric, along with the “No guitars in the war machine” refrain. The next highlight for me is another stirring anti-war Cenotaph, which surely ranks among the best Alarm songs ever written. Like Peace Now, this track was debuted a couple of years ago on the well-received Spirit of ’86 tour, itself a continuation of the Year of Strength, where it slotted in seamlessly alongside an expansive repertoire of 80’s classics. The album closes out with Hell Fire (on CD and download only) and Tomorrow which, from a slightly whimsical opening build to a soaring crescendo of a climax.

You already know what you’re going to get with an Alarm/Mike Peters release, so there’s a small element of preaching to the converted here. Peters found his niche decades ago. He knows what the people who buy his music want and, apart from adding the occasional dance beat or funky bass, is unlikely to break any new ground at this point in his career. But why should he? If it isn’t broken, don’t try to fix it.

Impassioned and poignant, Equals stands as one of the best albums of his career to date, and it’s out now.

The Deviant Dolls never avoid tackling issues. In fact, most of them go running off in search of issues to tackle. Drama.

Deviant Dolls

Wouldn’t we all love to ask a reader that? Especially those one-star jerks who leave NO EXPLANATION AT ALL? Yeah, you guys suck. In case you’re wondering, here’s one question we’d ask readers who didn’t like our books. Except Michael, who has to make sense and be rational all the time.

Michael: I have no questions. He or she has bought it so have every right to opine.

Katrina: There was one reviewer who couldn’t believe ALL DARLING CHILDREN was published because apparently it was so bad that anyone who okayed the publishing was obviously stupid. I’d probably ask her what put her in such a bad mood that she needed to be so horrible. It wasn’t as if she was criticizing any one or two things; she was just being shitty.

Christian: What’s wrong with you? Are you some kind of fucking dunderhead? Hello? McFly?

I’m…

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