If’ you’ve got about an hour to kill, then watch this hilarious Q&A with Malcolm McDowell, held during Monster-Mania 2013 (scroll down to see some of the action there). The guy is a crack-up. He reprises a little bit of Alex Delarge’s singing career, and schools us on different acting methods.
https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/102111101/McDowell%20Q%26A.avi
(And yeah, yeah, amateur hour. Hey, I’m a word guy, not a picture guy. At least I threw in some nifty effects.)
I passed through the Pentagon Metro station about twenty minutes before the plane hit. When I got to work, one of the officers told me about it and I ran downstairs to watch on the little TV we had. Saw the second plane hit the Tower. Knew, then, we were under attack.
The Metro went straight through the Pentagon station on the way home that evening. You could smell the smoke. There was a real big guy, 6’4″ or so, about 275, sitting a few rows up on a bench facing me. He was staring out the window and crying. Silently. He did not stop crying and staring out the window the entire trip. Silently.
I wanted to say something to him. I wanted to go put my arms around him, but I couldn’t. I did not know what to say. Or do. So, I just watched him cry.
I watched the latest episode of Under the Dome off my DVR last night. I erased it. I then cancelled the series.
Good Gawd A’mighty, was that dumb.
It’s been dumb all along, actually. I’ve only watched (endured) the last few episodes hoping one of them would be the last and I could get on with better uses of my time, like caulking the windows or something. But. It. Just. Wouldn’t. Die!!! And this past episode came so close to lobotomizing me that I had to take direct action.
I mean, two episodes ago, the town had a firefight against farmers who had possession of the Only Potable Well, and the heroic and sensitive hit man blew up the Only Potable Well with dynamite and the mean ole councilman killed the meaner ole farmer and Chester Mills now has water because the meaner ole farmer had diverted the town’s reservoir some three or four hundred years ago to his well and the act of blowing it up meant the water was now diverted back to the reservoir. And all this is an issue because the water tower had been knocked down in a previous episode—we’re all going to die—even though the aloof but somehow beneficent Dome provided rainfall to cover the shortage.
And then we find out this week that the town has a big friggin’ lake, deep enough to hold islands with their own resorts and allow speed boating for a couple of hours all along it’s shore, with them, right there, under the Dome. Right there.
What. The. Hell?
And please don’t try to tell me the lake is the now refilled water reservoir. No measly friggin’ farmer well is going to drain the equivalent of Lake Erie.
Let’s not forget the gladiator fights, the ridiculous and laughable mob moll, and the dragon egg that Daenerys Targaryon could probably use.
Stephen King. What. The. Hell?
So, you ask, why did I watch to for so long if it was apparently stupid so early? Well, it’s the Simpsons Movie, and I wanted to see Homer ride around the Dome.
1. Why did you chose to self-publish?
I didn’t approach it lightly. I did a lot of research about the publishing industry first, thinking I would do the whole agent/publisher route, but, the more I read, the more I became convinced the publishing industry’s business model was antiquated. The industry takes complete control of the author’s product and, well this is my story, this is my baby, and who are they to tell me what to write? Who are they to tell me or you what to read, for that matter? So my wife and I created our own imprint, Roundstone Publishing, LLC, and we went from there.
2. How did you vet your manuscript?
It was first vetted by my wife, Christine, who isn’t the biggest fan of this genre but loved my story. She gave me an incredible amount of excellent feedback on elements that simply made no sense to a non-geek reader. I then took that corrected draft to a bar that I was working at and gave it to 20 trusted bar regulars and staff, all of whom were very happy to give me all the criticism I could, and sometimes couldn’t, stand. They’re all named in the Acknowledgments. They gave me notes, some of it opinion on the story, some of it about the structure, and all of it valuable. I then went through and wrote the manuscript again. Joe Hansche became my copyeditor and fact-checker and went through subsequent drafts to test plausibility of, well, everything. Once it was ready, I went through CreateSpace but they just completely dropped the ball on the design phase. So, I was at a dead end when I found out one of my bar regulars and friend, Shanna, is a typesetter. A few long conversations later, we had a published book. Self-publishing is great, but you definitely need a team of people backing you, and I had an amazing group of people behind me.
3. What’s your writing method?
I’m right out of the box, hit the ground running, every cliché you can think of. I’m an animator and I’m used to seeing story arcs, so when Gauntlet came to me, I had the first four chapters written before I went, “Oh shit, maybe I better learn how to write first!” So I bought a lot of writing books and read and read and read, especially Stephen King’s On Writing. That got me focused, so I then outlined the story and wrote the parts of it that interested me the most, got rid of the boring parts, and tied it all together. Gauntlet is an epic tale across several books, and I am excited to be working on the second book, The Dragon Within. There will be a lot of connections between the first two books and the future books in the series. I love mentioning something in one book and then bringing it back books later. I love when authors do that.
For more information on the book, the author, merchandise, or just to check out some character illustrations, visit: scargen.com.
1. How’d you get started writing?
I’ve always been a writer. When I was a kid, I’d write stories, draw pictures for them, staple the pages together, put them in my wagon and walk around the neighborhood giving them away. The neighbors loved the stories, but told my Mom I should stop.
2. What’s your writing method?
It’s stream-of-consciousness. I see the whole story, where it starts and how it ends, so I write the first sentence, the middle sentence, and the ending one. Then I fill in the gaps. That way, I have anchor points. Anchor points are important to us former Navy guys, ya know. I keep the characters pretty much corralled as the story’s progressing, but sometimes I get a surprise and they act out a bit. What really helps is waiting on an idea to gel. Don’t write it immediately, particularly if you’re excited. Wait a day or two and let it mature. You’d be amazed at the details that come to you over time.
3. Do you have a series planned/in progress?
Several, actually. Finn’s World, the tale of a nine year-old boy stranded alone on an alien planet, is being hosted on Cast of Wonders as a serial audio podcast. Ten episodes of Finn will run over the next year and then they’ll be collected into a novel and an audio book for fans.
Hellpointe, the first novel of the Edge Worlds series, is for sale on Amazon. There will be two more books in the series.
The first book of Somnia Mortis, Dreamtime, is also available for sale on Amazon. Somnia Mortis is about the power of dreams and how they can be manipulated. Scary, and poetic.
R.A. Conine’s website author is located at www.raconine.com. Hellpointe now has its own page complete with fan artwork at www.hellpointe.com.
Saturday, August 17, was insane. Utterly insane. At least 783,497 people showed up. Well, it seemed like that. I had to park about a mile away down Cooper River Park, which is a happening place in its own right. Some guys were having a big party down there, blaring out Smokey Robinson. Cool.
The first oddness I ran into was the Ghouligans. 
They have a YouTube series you should check out, just for the “Flesh” parody alone.
Lots of Jason’s. 
As if that last Jason wasn’t bad enough: 
I have no idea: 
Nor about this: 
Got lasered by a Predator. 
Lots of zombies: 
Got back with Malcolm McDowell. 
We talked about Community, which is the funniest TV show ever and in the future, and on which McDowell plays an insane history teacher. I suggested that he and Betty White team teach a class, which should make Abed’s head explode. McDowell loves Betty White.
Pinhead. 
Not sure, but I like it. 
The vampire sisters. Lovely, just lovely. 
Can you blame him, er, it? 
I’m going to die, but who cares? 
Wait. What happened to the vampire sisters? 
Zombie Bride and Punk Arial. 
Zombie Bride and Punk Arial trying to kill me. 
I got away.
Isn’t that cute? 
Proud mother. 
Outstanding. 
Disturbing. 
Puzzling. 
Not sure what this is, 
but this is Captain Sparrow, 
who wanted compensation for me taking his picture. Captain Dickhead.
Even the parking lot wasn’t safe. 
Thank God there was a priest. 
Pray with me, in my hour of bleed…
Chandler Riggs, 
Carl on The Walking Dead. He should do something about the girl in the bloody bathrobe, ’cause it looks like she’s about to turn. 
I’ll rescue the nurse, Chandler.
Dave Hagan, put’er-on’er of Monster Mania. 
Christopher Lloyd, put’er on’er of various roles. 
He had an hour long Q&A. When he played Jim Ignatowski, he was not acting. Trust me on this.
Of course, these guys showed up. 
They invited me to the midnight showing but, no. No thanks.
Jeremy London and Dave Sheridan. 
Jeremy London is the guy with the vampire eyes. This was supposed to be a Q&A, but, instead, was an hour long riff-and-improv, mostly by Sheridan, which had me falling off my chair laughing my butt off (screw the acronym). I did not tape it. I wish I had.
I then attended Carrie Fisher’s Q&A. Yes, Princess Leia was there, somewhat puzzling but, hey, the lines between horror and scifi blur. She has turned into her mother, later Debbie Reynolds, with the voice inflection and the affectations, including a dog she had up on the table with her. No pictures, per request of Dave Hagan. She was very funny and charming, the most memorable of her stories involving the scene from The Empire Strikes Back where they enter Cloud City. A shot of the cast inside the Falcon shows them all smiling. The reason? The night before, they had all been at Fisher’s residence, which she rented from Eric Idle, and the Rolling Stones happened to drop by. “We are not hung over in the shot,” she said, “we are not done yet.”
I also attended Malcolm McDowell’s and George Romero’s 
Q&As. I did record those, and as soon as I figure out how to upload the videos, I’ll post them. I suck at video.
Then it was time for the costume contest. 
Rusty won the kid category. 
He’s three. I’m sure he’ll grow up fine.
This kid sat next to me. 
This is his Dad. 
I’m sure he’ll be okay when he grows up, too. The kid, I mean.
Elvira Ate-Too-Much-in-the-Dark. 
That’s what she called herself, so there.
A group costume.
Uh-huh.
Winners of the Most Original category, 
Tied with Yip-Yip. 
Winner of the Sexiest category. 
I had a tie vote with Nurse Jasmine 
and Punk Arial 
even though she tried to kill me earlier.
Ash 
Freddy vs Jason, 
who won first place in the Scariest category, and a female Cenobite, 
who should have won first place in the Scariest category. And the Sexiest. Yes, there’s something wrong with me.
Throwing on a sheet ain’t gonna do it, kid. 
This is the guy who taught Christian Grey everything he knows. 
This is Sex. 
And that was that.
Day 3 was…well, day 3. Nothing much. I met Jeff Zornow, 
who signed my copy of ’68 and thanked me for my service, even though I missed Vietnam by about five days. Refreshing.
And, thus, the convention ended. I went home.
Now, I gotta say something about all the celebrities, quasi celebrities, demi-celebrities, what-have-you, who were all over the place charging for their autographs and extra to take a photo of them. Yes, I’m looking at you, Samantha Mathis, Gary Busey, and the rest. You do understand, don’t you, that the reason you get to attend conventions as a celebrity, quasi-celebrity, whatever, is that we Great Unwashed plunked down enough moolah to attend/purchase/obtain/enjoy your various movies/shows/plays/books in the first place. There’s a certain…what’s the word I’m looking for here? Hypocrisy? Contempt? Disregard?…in you then demanding we shell over the price of two or three movie tickets just to have the pleasure of your dashed-off signature on something of yours we purchased, like a DVD, and a picture (on our own camera, I might point out) of you looking bored or uncomfortable. Please, recall, that your celebrity status came about because you have a better-than-average knack for remembering and repeating lines that someone else wrote for you, and you happened to have the right genetic mix to make you (mostly) pleasing to the eye. Perhaps, and this is just something to consider, if you didn’t charge so much and drive up ticket prices, more people could attend these conventions and buy more of the products which made you celebrities, quasi or other, in the first place, and I think the residuals are worth more, aren’t they? Just sayin’.
None of the immediate above applies to George Romero, who is a god.
When I got home, I discovered that Gracie was now devil cat 
and the pod had reached maturity. 
I don’t know if it’s a squampkin or a pumquash, 
but I swear there’s a person inside.
Heard about this Monster-Mania 2013 convention happening up in Cherry Hill, NJ from 16-18 August and, having never been to a monster convention, and my brother living nearby so I had a place to crash, figured, what the hey? After a Western omelet at the Red Lion Diner, the place to see and be seen in south Jersey, I went off to the Crowne Plaza on Marlton Pike.
Thought I was at the wrong convention, at first: 
Comic books, instead? Campy 60’s TV shows? No. Turns out Batman was here for another reason: 
Place was spiffy: 
Tip your bartender or this guy shows up: 
4
Some of the things for sale: 
and some of the people selling them: 
Ran into Michael Myers: 
Me and author R. Conine discussing the differences between the Air Force and Navy. 
Security pat down. 
How this guy got a flamethrower past the troll, I can’t figure. 
Hey, scifi is next week, bud. 
Met George Romero. 
Nicest guy in the world. Didn’t bite anyone.
This guy didn’t either, but he did get a bit ax-y. 
No biting here, either. 
Edward X. Young, star of Mr. Hush. 
Uh, no, I never heard of ‘em, either.
Me and Bruce Davison. 
No, I am not drunk, I’m talking to him about his role in Ulzana’s Raid, dammit.
Malcolm McDowell eating his cake (see below). 
Just the coolest guy. Told us stories about his early days. He was part of the Royal Shakespeare Company as a “super” extra, which meant he actually got lines. He said acting was the best job for a dissolute youth, a great way to meet women since there were thousands of them at Avon-on-Stratford where he was working. While auditioning for his role in “If…”, Lindsay Anderson asked him what he was doing and he said he was in a modern-day production of Twelfth Night as Sebastian. Anderson then railed on it, said the production was awful, that McDowell was wasting his time and McDowell’s own Twelfth Night director was terrible. After a while, McDowell started to agree with him, but then Anderson revealed he was on the board of the RSC and was friends with the Twelfth Night director. So, probably not going to get the If… job, right? But Anderson said, “Not necessarily.” And the rest we know.
McDowell said he sees both stage and screen as acting, just that on screen you’re doing things in a context while on stage you’ve got an audience. Most actors prefer the stage, but he doesn’t do plays anymore because they simply don’t pay enough, and he’s got three kids to raise. So there.
Then it was dessert time. George Romero, with the assistance of Bruce Davison and Malcolm McDowell, 
cut the George cake. 
Malcolm McDowell 
cut the droog cake. 
I had a piece of droog.
Another one shows up:
They’re coming.
I have a teeny little garden in which I grow various things like yellow squash, canteloupes, watermelon, pumpkin, tomatoes, peppers, eggplants, cauliflower, snap beans, strawberries and loofah gourds. Yeah, loofah gourds, wanna make something of it? (Actually you can: loofah sponges)
I get stuff like this: 
The other day, though, I pulled this out: 
Which reminded me of something…
Needless to say, I haven’t been sleeping much.
I’m giving it a couple of days, and then it’s going in the soup. Everything will be fine. Just…fine.
