It had to happen eventually. After months, even years, of snubbing us in favour of unknowns like Paul Cornell and Tony Lee, Comic Racks have finally bitten the bullet and called down the thunder that is … the Monkeys with Machineguns Interview.

Thrill … as we talk about ourselves. Gasp … as we find out about Iz’s toilet habits. Be amazed … at our choice of favourite biscuits. Shrug and say “I thought as much” … when I call Stuart a “French Duke”.

Sadly, despite our best efforts, Iz and Stace have salvaged an almost sensible sounding interview out of our tomfoolery. Listen for the outtakes though (after that Cornell guy again), where you get a true taste of the pain that Iz and Stace went through to bring you this interview.

Happy 50th guys … you don’t look a day over 45!

Click here to listen to Comic Racks, Episode 50 … Part Deux!

Rick, Harry, and I have all been interviewed by the Hypergeek website about the forthcoming release of The Dark.

We all answered our questions seperately, and it is interesting to see the areas in which we see the book differently as well as the areas in which we agree!

A great chance to get a little “behind the scenes” peek at the workings of a trans-atlantic creative team and a trans-atlantic publisher.

And, of course, I give a few little clues away as to what the big mystery is in “The Dark” …

Read “Illuminating The Dark: Talking to Chris Lynch, Rick Lundeen, and Harry Markos About AAM Markosia’s Latest Graphic Novel” here.

Diamond Comic Distributions “Previews” catalogue will hit stores this week, containing the first solicitation by AAM/Markosia for “The Dark“.

Our Diamond Order Code is JAN100699.

The advert in previews features the OGN Cover by Rick Lundeen and the following about the book:

(W) Chris Lynch (A) Rick Lundeen.

Imagine a story that you can drink, a story that you can feel, a story you can live. Welcome to the city of Dante, and the world of Memetech. As a wave of drugs that create living stories sweeps his city, one man fights back as ‘The Dark’. A vigilante who wields fiction as a weapon, he is the last hope for a city where nothing is what it seems. A stunning new sci-fi thriller.

Online retailers are already starting to the list The Dark for pre-order. Orders for The Dark will need to be in before the end of January 2010, so please make sure you let your local comic store know about the book and order your copy. As most people know, Diamond reserve the right to drop any book that does not meet their minimum order benchmark, so it is crucial that we get all the orders that we can.

Rick, the team at Markosia, and myself are all working hard on promoting the book, so expect to see a lot of press over the next few days and weeks.

Most importantly, of course, please order your copy of The Dark from your local comic shop today!

I received the first pencilled pages yesterday for my new Insomnia story “Hypergraphia” this week, drawn by the very talented Valia.

I can’t say much about the story without spoiling it, but suffice to say that this once is a heady mix of Greek mythology and Faerie lore, and should have enough little “Easter Eggs” in it to satisfy everyone. As always, I’ve had a great time going overboard with the research.

I’m hoping Valia will have time to include some cameos from my writing alumni, as there is room for plenty of extras. Of course, as this is one of my stories, and Insomnia seem to be foolishly giving me free reign again … they may not be so please to be included as will be to see them there.

I’ve put some simple letters over Valia’s pencils, so you can get a bit more of a feel for what the story is all about.

Readers of Rich Johnston’s Bleeding Cool comic news website have been given a sneak peek of the cover for the graphic novel release of “The Dark”.

Click here to see “Thanks Given 21 @ Bleeding Cool”.

Regular readers will know that I have been working on this project with Rick Lundeen for Markosia since May of 2009 and, having finished the script just a few weeks it ago, I am  incredibly excited to see the cover sitting alongside other previews for Markosia’s 2010 line.

Finishing the last chapter of the story was probably one of the toughest things I have had to do as a writer, mostly because I don’t think I wanted to let any of the characters go. I hope that’s a good thing. Maybe they didn’t want to go either. They’re tough bastards.

The Dark will be being solicited through Diamond to all good comic shops (more news on that when I have it) and will also be available through book stores, Amazon, etc. More information on that as I have it …

The first MWM Live was for someone who we honestly didn’t press-gang long in advance of the event. Probably the one person to play our “name a place, name a thing, name a person” game to get their story started too!

“OK”, said the landlord, “Here’s your uniform.” Carl looked sceptically at the bear skin hat and rusty old gas mask. The job hefting barrels at the Queen’s Head was supposed to be easy money, beer funds for his summer vacation. Gas masks and furry hats were not part of the plan.

“This.. is my uniform?”

“You’ll understand once you’re down there,” said the landlord, and opened up the trapdoor to the cellar. “Best get down there and get the lay of the land, son”

Tucking the hat and the gas mask under his arm, Carl climbed slowly down into the cellar. It was freezing cold, his breath clouding into vapour as his feet touched the stone floor. He felt the crunch of ice, and shivered.

“Put on the hat before you freeze to death,” shouted the landlord from the top of the ladder.

Carl did as he was told, and pressed on into the gloom of the cellar. With every step he took it got colder, and the air thickened with a smell that swiftly escalated into a stench that was almost unbearable. Carl strapped on the gas mask, grateful for the clean air.

He heard the trapdoor close behind him, extinguishing the light from above. In the distance, far further away than he thought the cellar should reach, he could see another tiny light.

A tiny light that was getting closer.

“Don’t run,” came a voice from the dark. “You’ll fall on the ice and break your neck.”

Out of the darkness, came the barrel-man. The legend of the Queen’s Head, the brewer of the infamous home brew. No more than three feet tall, wizened, and dressed in strips of leather and rags, the light that came closer came from a small lantern attached to his belt.

“Here,” he said, thrusting a rotting, dismembered human forearm at Carl. In the arm’s rotting hand was a key.

“Keep walking for about another hour, you’ll come to a door. Open it with this key, and bring out the barrels. The home brew should be ready.”

Carl felt the cold, dead flesh of the arm in his own hands.

“Why do I need the arm? Can’t I just take the key?” he asked.

“You see when you get there,” replied the barrel man. “New boy”

They know me so well! Murky Depths has picked up the SFX “Fanzine of the Month” gong for a 3rd time.

It wasn’t until I met up with Terry from Murky Depths this weekend that I found out that “The Escape Artist” was given a special mention.

Would you buy a used comic from these people?

Yep, BICS rocked. It rocked in a very special way.

To steal a trick from Nick Horby here, in no particular order other than the order that my brain spewed them forth, are my favourite moments:

1. Getting a trading card of “The Dark” from Sy Wyatt
2. Almost making Amy Liff faint/vomit/both with an impromtu rendition of the classic children’s showtune “Tranny Wingman”.
3. Sharing Supernatural love with The Nuge
4. Getting the original art for my “Fictionalist” avatar from Rob
5. Making Stuart admit that I loved Supernatural first, that he mocked my Supernatural love, but he is now addicted to it
6. Carpet Jaeger-bombing as many people as possible in a sudden burst of prodigious drinking
7. Seeing a giant Optimus Prime figure
8. Selling off the remaining stock of MWM #1, MWM #2, and MWM Live!
9. Finding out how many people actually liked MWM Live but getting away with not having to do it again
10. Spilling scalding hot tea down myself whilst pitching
11. Meeting Neal and the ironically named “Little Fat Mikey”
12. The water colour of The Dark from Valia
13. Terrifying Mr. Cola with my second rendition of “Tranny Wingman”
14. Sharing table space with the hardcore crew of Orang Utan Comics and David Wynne.
15. Free hotel WiFi
16. Marveling at the talents of my partner in crime Stu.Art as he sketched up a storm
17. Freaking out David Wynne with a “I wanna sex you up” duet with Ian Sharman

And the truth is, this list could go on and on. I sang at least three others songs for starters and I still haven’t listed the fun times with the Mighty McAuliffes, the numerous (by which I mean 2) Staceys, Monts tales of Merlin, Belgian Dave, Ryan and Orko (virtually cannon fodder to my J-Bombs, bless their young hearts), wonderfully erudite exchanges with Scott Grandison, comedy ranting like a lunatic at Jimmy Bott, … and even as I try to draw this paragraph to a close I am sure I am missing someone or something vital. Probably more than one.

To put it as simply as I can 48+ hours of unadulterated comics is good, 48 hours of comics with this company is simple unbeatable. Except perhaps by 72 hours.

This one was for Richard Griffiths, of Crafty Butchers fame, who just wanted “spidermonkeys”.

We live to serve …

Cliff reloaded his rifle as quickly as he could, letting the spent cartridges join those already scattered about his feet. The barrel of the gun was hot enough to scorch the wooden parapet of the outpost as he propped it there, glad for a moment not to have the weight against his shoulder.

“How many of them are there?” asked Delilah.

“Depends,” replied Cliff. “If they breed like monkeys, we’ve got to be getting to the end of the troupe by now. If they breed like spiders …”

The words hung in the air as thick as the tropical heat.

“If they breed like spiders …?” Delilah asked meekly.

“Then I don’t have enough bullets.”

There was a crash out in the jungle, and the familiar screeching of the spider monkeys. Cliff had tried to work out where the nest was, considering in his darker moments that maybe the only way to survive this was to take the fight to them, to find their home and burn it out, but every part of the jungle seemed to be their territory. This was their place.

“Cliff, maybe we should take the other jeep, try and –”

“They know where the road is,” said Cliff flatly. “You didn’t see what happened to Clint, Helen, and the others …  Trust me Delilah, you don’t want to end up like that.”

Cliff closed his eyes for a moment. Hunting was a dangerous profession, he’d seen people hurt and killed before. He’d seen the things that an animal can do to a human in a matter of moments, he’d seen how inhuman the things that were left behind looked. What he had seen on the road out of the jungle though, what he had seen in the spider monkey’s web… that was something different entirely. That was a human level of cruelty.

The crashing in the jungle grew closer, and the screeching grew louder. Cliff cocked the rifle back up to his shoulder and peered down the sight.

“I can help,” said Delilah, awkwardly hefting up a pistol.

Cliff sighed. They were dead, of that he was certain. Delilah may as well die on her feet.

“Remember to aim low,” he said, with an uncommon note of kindness. “If you hit the poison sack, that seems to do the trick.”

Inspired by Ryan Reed, who asked for a story featuring ““A man who has been bitten by a radioactive man, a VW Camper Van, and a pie”

Rain rattled against the side of the camper van. Reed tried to ignore it, and concentrated on cooking. Cooking was a lot more complicated for Reed these days than it used to be as, since the bite, he had to work just as hard to keep things out of his meals as put things in.

Thunder crashed overhead and the VW camper rocked from side to side as Reed gingerly lifted the baking tray out of the small oven he had installed into the van. The van, like Reed, had been through a lot of changes, since the bite.

Four years on the run, four years since the bite.

Placing the tray on the edge of the sink, he picked up the piping hot pie and dropped it onto his only plate. He didn’t feel the heat of the pie, the flesh of his fingers long dead.

Long dead since the bite.

The rain was gradually turning into hail, hammering harder on the sides of the van. Reed knew that he didn’t have long, that soon the rain and the hail wouldn’t be the only things hammering on the sides of his van.

The village was less than an hour away and he was sure that the children would have been missed by now. He wished that it didn’t have to be children, but they were the only things that worked.

The only things that worked since the bite.

Edging down the van, the wind threatening to topple him at any moment, Reed caught a glimpse of himself, reflected in the windscreen. His flesh was rotten, sloughing off every bone. The poisoning was getting worse. The poisoning that had been eating away at him ever since the bite.

He sat down, and let the aroma of the pie fill his nose.

Soon, he would look like everyone else. Soon, he would be able to walk among the normal people, and no one would know.

The secret was in the pie.

And all it would take was a bite.