Visiting The History That Never Happened
A decade ago, Mr. Adams and I took take a day out to brainstorm some literary projects. As was the case in those days, things ended up at the pub and nothing came of it. One or two pints of Guinness can lubricate creativity, but the amount we used to drink in The Grand must have made even holding a pen difficult.
However, some of ideas that we came up with around that period of excess were not too shabby. Camalot ’77, Weird War Redux and The Dracula Prequel/Young Van Helsing (years before that abortion of a movie was a glimmer in some fool’s eye) were all things we could have pursued and possibly made work if I had been less of an idiot.
In a parallel dimension, Mr.Adams, Mr. York and I produced a couple Discontinuity Guide style cult TV guides, (including one on Buffy The Vampire Slayer which we would have seen before anyone else in the UK thanks to Twist) before Mr. Adams and I moved onto books on conspiracy theories and Forteana. We would have also produced a couple of reasonable mini-series for the DC Vertigo imprint before Mr. Adams went onto to knock out serious novels.
This left me writting about men and women in spandex and plaguing Gary Russell for a gig right from the start of Big Finnish. I would have also secretly worked on my ‘proper books’ and flattering myself, believe after 10 years I might be on the verge of producing something at least as quarter as good as The Time Traveller’s Wife or Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell. My personal life would have been very different too. However, that is another timeline in another place.
Ten years on, we spent today trying again to brainstorm literary ideas and it felt like visiting the history that never happened. I was forced to think about what ifs and might have beens, especially as I was back in Leigh. This might have been a painful and terrible thing to endure, but the new universe I find myself in has a way of regulating any strangeness I feel and dismissing it with a memory that makes me smile.
We started with good intentions – an early start and Earl Grey. However, it was just too sunny and predictably, we were soon sitting outside one of the pubs in Old Leigh. Not surprising the talk turned to counterfactuals, history, decay and things lost. By the time we walked back up the hill to watch Doctor Who, The History That Never Happened had become a much stronger pitch and London ring canal travel book felt as if it could work. I had also become Lobster Boy having not planned to spend several hours in the sun and having forgotten that the whitest man on the planet goes red very quickly.
Watching Doctor Who with Mr. Adams was a joy. Two life long fan boys drinking in one of the best Who stories for years complete with Jamie McCrimmon in-jokes, classic base under siege/Robert Holmes historical format and revelations that the Doctor loves both punk rock and The Muppet Movie. It was the first time I have ever watched a new episode of Doctor Who with a fellow fan, and like most things in life, it was an experience all the better for being shared.
After our 45 minutes of TV heaven, it was down to the Bombay Spice for a curry and more brainstorming. Good food and the obligatory free drinks later, we also had two comic book ideas that have a glimmer of potential (though the possibility of playing in the Marvel and DC universes is incredibly remote).
The evening ended with a manly hug, an iPod fuelled walk home buzzing with sentences that may one day be written home and a text from Surreal Girl. This means that despite waking to imminent sunburn pain, I am going to bed without a regret for both the history that never happened and some of that which did.
However, some of ideas that we came up with around that period of excess were not too shabby. Camalot ’77, Weird War Redux and The Dracula Prequel/Young Van Helsing (years before that abortion of a movie was a glimmer in some fool’s eye) were all things we could have pursued and possibly made work if I had been less of an idiot.
In a parallel dimension, Mr.Adams, Mr. York and I produced a couple Discontinuity Guide style cult TV guides, (including one on Buffy The Vampire Slayer which we would have seen before anyone else in the UK thanks to Twist) before Mr. Adams and I moved onto books on conspiracy theories and Forteana. We would have also produced a couple of reasonable mini-series for the DC Vertigo imprint before Mr. Adams went onto to knock out serious novels.
This left me writting about men and women in spandex and plaguing Gary Russell for a gig right from the start of Big Finnish. I would have also secretly worked on my ‘proper books’ and flattering myself, believe after 10 years I might be on the verge of producing something at least as quarter as good as The Time Traveller’s Wife or Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell. My personal life would have been very different too. However, that is another timeline in another place.
Ten years on, we spent today trying again to brainstorm literary ideas and it felt like visiting the history that never happened. I was forced to think about what ifs and might have beens, especially as I was back in Leigh. This might have been a painful and terrible thing to endure, but the new universe I find myself in has a way of regulating any strangeness I feel and dismissing it with a memory that makes me smile.
We started with good intentions – an early start and Earl Grey. However, it was just too sunny and predictably, we were soon sitting outside one of the pubs in Old Leigh. Not surprising the talk turned to counterfactuals, history, decay and things lost. By the time we walked back up the hill to watch Doctor Who, The History That Never Happened had become a much stronger pitch and London ring canal travel book felt as if it could work. I had also become Lobster Boy having not planned to spend several hours in the sun and having forgotten that the whitest man on the planet goes red very quickly.
Watching Doctor Who with Mr. Adams was a joy. Two life long fan boys drinking in one of the best Who stories for years complete with Jamie McCrimmon in-jokes, classic base under siege/Robert Holmes historical format and revelations that the Doctor loves both punk rock and The Muppet Movie. It was the first time I have ever watched a new episode of Doctor Who with a fellow fan, and like most things in life, it was an experience all the better for being shared.
After our 45 minutes of TV heaven, it was down to the Bombay Spice for a curry and more brainstorming. Good food and the obligatory free drinks later, we also had two comic book ideas that have a glimmer of potential (though the possibility of playing in the Marvel and DC universes is incredibly remote).
The evening ended with a manly hug, an iPod fuelled walk home buzzing with sentences that may one day be written home and a text from Surreal Girl. This means that despite waking to imminent sunburn pain, I am going to bed without a regret for both the history that never happened and some of that which did.
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