Click for enzoomification
I am testing out a few things before I paint my Deathwing Terminators, and I decided to try an experiment.
On the right you can see a Space Marine backpack washed with straight Vallejo Flesh Ink. On the left, the Flesh Ink has been mixed 1:1 with Matt Medium.
This not only has the effect of diluting the ink slightly, but it also changes the ink’s properties. It flows differently, as you can clearly see. It also loses its familiar ink sheen. Lastly, it loses the “gritty” texture inks can cause in primed surfaces. I don’t think this grittiness is down to the ink per se, rather it is that the surface of the newly-primed model is not smooth, and that causes the super-fine ink to collect in recesses so small the eye cannot see them. The addition of Matt Medium seems to prevent this, hence the less dirty look of the model on the left.
I think I prefer the version on the left, actually 
Hope you found this moderately interesting!
In other news, I sent off another story to Wyrd yesterday. Puzzle Box is another departure for me, being written in first person. Dropping the various clues throughout the story, while still keeping it interesting and involving and – most importantly – not confusing, has been the main challenge. This one should be the Guild faction story for the next book – fingers crossed
It’s been a busy few weeks, and my Man Cave has been missing me.
I got some paint on some models, but other things have risen in priority and I haven’t done any painting or modelling for a while. Instead, I have been writing – oh, have I been writing! I’ve sold another story to Wyrd, am in the process of writing another, and am pitching them on various other stories I have rattling around in my brainbox (I need to get some Battlefoam in there to stop the ideas getting scratched). So, plenty of creative activity, lots of productive busy-ness but nothing I can stick up here and show you guys. Hence the picture of the kitten.
Very pleased with the story I wrote last week – a 7000 word short story set in the Malifaux world. Started it on Monday and finished it on Friday, which is pretty good going. It was one of those stories that just writes itself, where once I had the basic plot outline (character is faced with something from their past that comes back to – literally – haunt them, and they go back and finish the job, getting some closure), I just raided my ideas bitzbox (every writer should have one!) and threw all sorts of stuff into the brew.
Seamus has a cameo, and I tried to capture the comic-book grotesquerie of his character while also letting his actual serial-killer nature show through. He should make us laugh, but nervously, like waking up to find a tiger juggling in your bedroom in the middle of the night.
I knew it was trending to the Pratchett when I named the reanimated eyeball Mrs Choke, but anything that treads a line between black humour and horror in a fantasy setting is going to feel a little Pratchett anyway. Ya hear that, Pratchett – I’m gunnin’ for yer crown!
What else have I been reanimating? My PS3 for one. Mini Sholto #1 attempted to load the bluray slot with two dvds instead of the more customary one, and the drive died a grindy, stuttering death. £90 repair bill, the internet told me. Oh, poo, I thought. Then corrupted data started showing up on the hard drive – about 28Gb of it – so I did a format and reset and, wouldn’t you know, the bluray drive started working perfectly! I won’t ask why, because the universe has a way of looking askance at you when you question serendipity, as if to say, “well, now you mention it, that probably shouldn’t have happened. I’ll see what I can do…” and then jumps up and down on your serendipity while laughing like a toddler on crack. Or sugar, as it’s known in this house.
The back-from-the-dead PS3 afforded me and Mrs Sholto the opportunity to watch a dvd for a change. “I Love You Man” was amiable fun and then I watched “Shutter Island”. I avoided all reviews and discussions of this film, because I knew there was a twist in it. I don’t know if it’s because as a writer I need to deconstruct plots in order to see how they work and how to put them back together in a different way, or whether the twist was just very poorly done, but it was obvious from just about the opening scene. Ah, well. The atmosphere of the piece was excellent (Dante Ferretti is a superb production designer) and it occurred to me that if you didn’t know what was actually going on, the whole sturm-und-drang might seem a little overbaked. When you know what’s going on, all the visual and audible exclamation marks make! Much! More! Sense!
The emotional core of the film is the heartbreaking scene towards the end, and that one really got me. It was difficult to watch, although not at all gratuitous.
Anyway, back on track. I’ve got a game of Dark Age lined up for next week, and another game with my 1750 Farsight list coming up ahead of the Rapid Fire! tournament on the 23rd October. Playing against Jamie’s Space Wolves which he has been playing for a while now. They are different (and better than) the Space Wolf list I drew against with my Shadowsun army, and I am expecting a decent work-out. Pics if I can find a working camera!
Okay, thanks to signing an NDA» with a games company I cannot tell you too much about this, but I’ve just submitted a short story to said games company and the initial feedback is excellent. Fingers crossed, and (when I can) I will let you know how this all pans out.
Is there blood and guts and thrilling action and chilling horror? Well, you’ll just have to wait to find out 
Via Wil Wheaton:-
The truth, of course, is that writers are always working. When you ask a writer a direct question, and he smiles and nods and then says “Well!” and turns and walks away without saying goodbye, he is actually working.
If a writer is giving you a ride to the bus station and pulls up in front of the supermarket and turns to you and says, “Enjoy your trip!,” she is actually working.
Halloween
The air has just turned cold and crisp and all too soon it’s time for Halloween again. Your children make their plans through whispered conversations and instant messages encrypted beyond prying, adult eyes. Who will it be this year? You could try and keep your youngest son indoors, but the rest would come for him, and that would just make it worse. He’s too young to carry the bucket of stones, you say to your wife, and she nods with tears in her eyes, but there’s nothing you can do. Your friends grow quiet as the day approaches. Stay indoors, they remind one another. Let the children have their fun. It’s just one night. But whatever you do, don’t go outside. As if; remember old Mr Allen. And on Hallow’s Eve you cannot watch as your children file out to gather, wearing jeans and jackets against the chill. It’s not long before you can hear them, shouting and whooping. The streets belong to them tonight. You’re left silent, sitting, waiting, with the windows boarded up, the car safe in the garage and wearing the demonic costume that all grown-ups must wear. You glance at your wife. Is your fearful face perhaps glad of its mask? Is hers? Who will they turn on this year? You gave your children extra helpings, let them stay up late, let them watch what they wanted, but they knew what you were doing. Did they get what they wanted for Christmas? Were they happy with the holiday to Florida this year? Did you give them any reason to be upset? God, please let it be someone else. Children, remember your bucket of stones on Halloween, when you go outside to play.
Maybe it’s just because he’s Neil Gaiman and can write better than birds can fly, but this post on his blog really struck a chord with me. Go read it, I’ll be here when you get back.
…
…
You spent the last half-an-hour reading his blog, didn’t you? It’s okay, I watched an episode of Heroes while you were away. Anyway. I feel exactly like he does at the moment. I have a story idea, and I think it is my first proper novel idea. If you want to know what it is, take a look at Losing The Plot – it’s at the top of the page.
I want to turn this into a story so much I find myself grinning in delight as I walk to the train station, possibilities playing out in my head. I’m also afraid I’m not good enough, and that it’s the best idea I’ll ever have, and that I might screw it up because I am just beginning as a writer.
So I am keeping it for now, just letting it ferment in the dark places of my mind, seeing what changes it goes through, turning the bottle now and then to see if the genie is still in there (don’t mix your metaphors on an empty stomach, kids). I’m not going to write it now but, like NG, I know I will and I’m really, really looking forward to it.
Happiness.
Sent my story off to Interzone yesterday. Time to start the Clock 'o Doom ticking once again.
Got a standard rejection letter from Fantasy & Science Fiction. I'm impressed at the turnaround time, which at least lets me get the story back out again quickly (not so impressed with their request for additional postage to return the manuscript – the same one with the word "DISPOSABLE" in 24-point letters on the first page and that came with a covering letter saying "the manuscript is disposable"!)
Hey – I've got to be able to feel superior about something, right?
Yeah – no updates for over a month, and then two in one day. Consistency? – I have about as much as a trifle.
As the heading says, I today joined the ranks of the 'published for money'. It's only a 300-word short, but it will appear in a national magazine in Scotland with a readership of over 300,000! And I get paid 
Not a lot, but per word it's pretty damn high.
I feel all floaty.
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