It’s that age-old question; the one that’s bothered Geeks and Nerds since the genres became established. But I’m not talking about the films; I’m talking about books. Most fans of either camp seem to be able to dip into films about their literary nemesis with no problem at all. But, chuck a sci fi book at a swords and sorcery head or a fantasy novel at a ray-guns and gadgets geek, then you’ve got problems.

I know which camp I sit in: I’ll take a wizard over a robot, any day of the week. So, I suppose this post is less about sci fi versus fantasy and why I’ll cheerfully talk Tolkien, but I’ve had enough of Asimov.

Probabilities and Improbabilities

There’s been a lot of conjecture over what separates what, on the surface, appear to be two forms of escapism. One of the most-widely quoted definitions belongs to Miriam Allen deFord. DeFord was an American journalist-turned-writer, who was the author of a good few sci-fi books. Her thought was that “science fiction consists of improbable possibilities, fantasy of implausible possibilities.” It’s not an easy one to argue with but, for me, it doesn’t tick all the boxes.

I’ve done my time on sci fi; I’ve read Scott Card, Asimov, M Banks and others but – and I don’t mean any disrespect to their word – I’ve never come away feeling as satisfied as I have when I’ve read Tolkien, Donaldson, Stroud or anything that’s got a wizard and some swords in it. And preferably a shadowy bad buy with more powers up his sleeve than you could shake a staff at. But why should that be any different to reading about something futuristic? It’s all escapism, isn’t it?

Similarities

I suppose, for me, the difference lies in how the characters get to interact with the worlds they exist in. In the wacky world of fantasy, there are usually a few life-restoring berries to fall back on or some magical elixir to pull you out of trouble – just as in sci fi, you get genetically-engineered cures and rare-but-accessible antidotes. On a first view, there are some similarities, albeit in different guises.

Differences

But the real difference – and, again, it’s only how I perceive it – is the stuff that defines each genre: magic and science – and that has to have an effect on how we see the characters. When a character uses magic, it usually involves them having to reach deep down inside them and connect with some hidden aspect of their being; their strength, their courage or maybe their love for the world around them. In the Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, the lead character – possibly one of the most miserable, self-pitying characters you’re ever likely to come across – has to learn to control his magical abilities, which are almost an analogy for his self-loathing. As his anger dissipates and his recognition of The Land as a place for healing takes its place, his powers become easier to master. I loved those books.

In sci fi, the leads tend to have to use solutions outside of themselves in order to solve the problem at hand. Sure, they might have to think of it, write the formula or whatever, but the ultimate solution to their situation will be technological or algorithmic. In Neuromancer, Henry Case has to ascend through various levels of cyberspace in order to reclaim his status as the ‘console cowboy’. The central problem is the revelation of a password but, once Chase gets it, you know that all will be well. I admired the writing, but the environment just left me feeling like I’d absorbed too much data.

Within and Without

So, I think that’s why I like fantasy more than sci fi; fantasy seems to me to be about the power within while sci fi seems to be about the power without. And I guess I’m one of those people who’d like a bit more inner power.

Let the shooting begin; I’m off to watch Star Trek. Whilst reading a bit of Lord of the Rings on the sly.

Bit late in the day, but I’ve managed to scrape together a few precious moments to finally get my thoughts down about the Launch for Geekhood #2.

And, quite frankly, it was The Launch That Almost Never Happened.

I knew I wanted to do one and, as Mission Impobable started to look more like a book, I turned my thoughts to what I was going to do. The last one, my first one, was such a laugh that I wanted to try and get a similar level of madness together for the next one. But this one was fraught with problems.

Learning from the first launch, I realised that the first thing I needed was a venue. Waterstones in Oxford Street hosted the first and they did such a good job, that it seemed my first logical port of call, so I dropped them a line, quietly confident that they’d have me back. Which I’m sure they would’ve done if the shop hadn’t flooded as a result of the sprinkler system going off and practically drowning the place.

So, that wasn’t a possibility, but I wanted somewhere central to get everyone together, so I tried a couple of other bookshops only to be met with astronomical hire fees. No dice.

A couple of weeks before this phoneathon, I’d wandered into Waterstones on High Street Kensington and had a bit of a laugh with a couple of the staff, so I gave them a bell. As chance would have it, the Events Manager, Michael, was well up for it and liked the idea of fancy dress, which I punted to him. Things got even more serendipitous when it turned out that his girlfriend went to my old Drama School and, at some point, we had crossed paths. It was a done deal.

What next? Ah, yes – cakes. More specifically: cupcakes. Shopping for cupcakes isn’t something I normally do and, after trawling the ‘Net and seeing the price-tags that come with professionally-made cupcakes, I resolved to make my own. Which, I realise now, was a little optimistic; I can cook a bit but, living on a boat, my facilities are a little limited. But, as I was researching recipes (the Banoffee ones looked good), I stumbled across the website of a local lady who makes them as a supplement to her income, so I rang her. Brilliantly, her prices fitted my budget and I ordered 60 superhero-style cupcakes, to be delivered to me on the Monday morning.

Excellent! Now, we need…something to drink! That was easy; I just went to my local supermarket and picked up some half-decent wine and softies.

Now I was left with the decision about what I was going to wear. I couldn’t really pull out my Hobbit costume again, so I had a think about the book. There were two costumey themes that sprang to mind: superheroes and LARPers. I went for superheroes. I went for Batman. Visions of me looking all muscley and imposing chugged through  my head as I ordered a Batsuit off eBay and all was well with the world.

But then I had another idea! Last time, I hired members of the UK Garrison to turn up as Darth Vader and Stormtroopers. After a quick trawl of the web, I found that there was no superhero equivalent, so it looked like it was going to be a Spandex-free event. That is until research took me to some Cosplay sites, where I put out a clarion call and gor responses from three Cosplayers who fancied turning up. Bingo! It was all coming together, a la Hannibal Smith.

Until Monday came along. I hadn’t had the chance to try on my costume, so  did it as soon as I got up, I put it on. Ah. Not quite Christian Bale. Not even Adam West. I looked like a hobbit stuffed into a sack. A very tight fitting one. But there was no turning back; tonight, Matthew, I was going to be Batdwarf.

The cakes arrived and they looked great, so I put them on the back seat of the car while I sent emails to the three Cosplayers, who I hadn’t heard from after their original enthusiasm. I sent them directions, phone numbers and maps – and waited. All three heroes bailed on me. There was no Spiderman swinging by, no Loki causing mischief and no Superman to trade punches with. I guess they were all saving the world that day.

But I had everything else, so I jumped in the car and hit the M4. On the M4, someone almost hit me and I had to slam the anchors on. I didn’t realise, until I got to the other end, that that funny sliding noise was the cupcakes hitting the back of my seat and squodging their buttercream swirls against each other. It was all going wrong.

But the enthusiasm of the Waterstones staff lifted me out of my fug and we recued the cupcakes, sorted the wine, got prizes together for the fancy dress and then I wriggled into my tights.

Once again, everyone who turned up did me proud. I’d badgered some real-life LARPers into coming and they did, in full regalia. There were cape-wearing bloggers, comic book characters and my Mum and son surprised me by turning up, when I thought they couldn’t.

There were also other authors: Dave Cousins (whose book, Waiting for Gonzo, I’d just read) and he was a fabulous chap; very easy to chat with. Sara ‘Dark Parties’ Grant was there, too, being all successful and famous and I got an invite to her forthcoming launch. My ageny, Jenny and Jane and the Stripes Gang rocked up and pretty soon, it was all in full swing. There were the usual speeches – although I did chuckle when Jane asked me if I thought it was OK to say the word ‘condom’ in her speech, as there were kids present. I thought it was OK.

So, I came to realise that, while it can be great fun to have legions of costumed extras, what you really need to make a good Launch Do, is good people.

Good people and cake.

Time to get something off my chest, I think.

When I was about 13, I had found my feet in the world of Role Playing Games and miniature painting. It was my escape from the Other Stuff that was going on in my life and I loved every Geeky second of it.

Before the joys of the Internet, ordering new figures or bits for your game was all conducted through mail order; you’d spend hours looking at a little catalogue, at the black and white photos and decide what it was you wanted, before putting your cheque in the post. Then you’d get that delicious torture you only experience when you’re waiting for something really cool to drop through your letterbox.

The catalogue I looked most at was this one:

In the back pages, they allowed other companies to advertise and one thatregularly caught my eye was from a group called ‘Treasure Chest’, who advertised themselves as a ‘LiveAction Role Play’ group. They would take over a crumbling castle, dress half the players up as monsters, evil wizards and warriors and the other half would go on a quest through the ruins to battle the Forces of Darkness and attempt to get the treasure or whatever the point of that expedition was.

It sounded brilliant and I’d often plan what I’d be, if I was going. Trouble was, it was in Nottingham and I’d have to save for ages to be able to afford it – and I had miniatures to buy…

Fast forward a good few years and my first book, Geekhood: Close Encounters of the Girk Kind, was on shelves, paying homage to my miniature-painting years. When it came to the second one, I knew what I wanted Archie and his mates to get up to; I wanted to send them LARPing. But, in all those years, I’d never done it.

So, I did.

I contacted a group in Devon and asked if I could come along. Before I went, I had a few chats with a guy, Paul, who explained it to me down the phone, as best he could. There was a rules-system, just like my beloved RPGs and all the weapons were made of foam-latex.

The first time I went, I went with my son and we were told to meet in a service cafe, near Exeter. The cafe was on the first floor, overlooking the shopping aisles of the supermarket it was sat in. My son was only seven at the time and kept asking me where the people we were going to play with were. As I was telling him I didn’t know, he suddenly said “Look! There they are!” and pointed into the supermarket. There, wandering through the bread-aisle, came several wizards, a few warriors and some blue people. No, really.

The met up with us and we were told to follow them to the LARPing ground. We were to follow a guy in his car. I can’t remember his name but, if you think the word ‘Geek’, then whatever you think of – that was him. He was very thin and very self-conscious and very quiet. However, by the time we got out of the car, he’d changed into his full Roman Gladiator and was suddenly The Most Confident Man in the World, slapping his latex-clad chums on the back, bopping them on the head with his rubber sword and generally being loud. He’d completely transformed and come out of his Geeky chrysalis as something bigger, bolder and more colourful. It was actually quite lovely to see.

The best stories came out of my second LARPing adventure. Again with my son, we went to a field in Devon, early one Saturdau morning, to meet Paul, the guy I’d chatted to on the phone. We found the car park, parked up and walked through a hole in the hedge – straight into a fantasy realm. Sure, it was just a campsite – but the tents were all medieval-looking, festooned with rubber skulls and other arcane decorations. After asking a few bemused Elves where Paul was, one suddenly went “Oh – you mean Sebastian! His tent’s over there!”

As it turned out, Sebastian was the name of Paul’s character. We knocked on  his tent and there was a bit of rustlinng inside, before the front flap opened and a very tall man, wearing a cloak and dressed in a Renaissance costume made from black velvet, appeared. Unfortunately, he had a bit of a hangover (they’d been on the Mead the night before) and wasn’t up to showing me the ropes just yet. He threw some costumes at us and said the best thing we could do was just mingle and chat to people and we’d get the hang of it. As we wandered off into the camp, he called out: “Oh – and be sure to chat to Brith, the Dwarf.”

So, we wandered and we chatted to people. When I say ‘people’, I mean Dark Elves, Wood Elves, Cat People and Wizards. And they all looked Fantastic. I mean, the work they’d put into their costumes was astonishing. There were shiny armour plates, leather gauntlets, pointed hats – whatever you wanted from your favourute fantasy novel was here, in a field in Devon, eating a bacon sandwich.

Once again, it was my son who pointed out the best bit: there, on the hhorizon, he’d spotted the silhouette of a diminutive figure; horned helmet, knee-length chainmail, HUGE beard and a hefty-looking axe: it had to be Brith the Dwarf. So we went to say Hallo.

Brith the Dwarf turned out to be a 70 year-old retired English Teacher called Barbara. Barbara had been doing this for years and was completely devoted to her character – and she was pretty handy in a fight, too. Her reasons for going was that LARP allowed people to be who they wanted to be, in a completely safe-from-the-rest-of-the-world environment.

As the day went on, we got into some battles, got chased by a Minotaur, my son slew his first Rat Ogre and we made it through the Gates of Death. We allied with Drow, took secret messages for Sebastian and tried to solve the Riddle of the Moving Box. It was bonkers, but beautifully so.

My son LOVED it – and probably because all the adultstreated him and the other kids as equals. If they hit someone with a sword, that person dropped to the floor. If they made a suggestion, it was listened to. If truth be told, he’s better at it than I am.

But what I loved about it was that these mad, mad people had created an environment where they could unleash their fantasies and make them real. Only for a weekend, but they packed as much as they could into those 48 hours and by the end of it, I was exhausted – but happy exhausted.

So, that’s the backdrop to Geekhood: Mission Improbable; a gloriously Geeky world, where no-one is quite what they seem. Some of the scenes in the book are direct lifts from stuff that happened; some of it funny for the wrong reasons, but all dome with complete respect to that lovely bunch of LARPing lunatics.

Got a phone call about 20 minutes ago, from a courier company. Now, living on a boat in the middle of the river means that delivery services are slightly hamstrung when it comes to actually handing over the goods, so I had to tell the chap to hang on, while I revved up my dinghy and crossed the surging water. And it is surging, I can tell you.

However! Said chap gave me a box. I did have a sneaking suspicion as to what it might be, as Chloe, from Stripes, had given me a heads’ up on Twitter. But! Before I tore the thing open, I thought I’d take a pick of each stage, so that you guys could join me on my box-opening journey. So, here’s Stage 1:

A box. Not massively exciting so far…

And then we got Stage 2:

Lots of paper. Which I can burn on the fire, later.

Swiftly followed by Stage 3:

Wow!!!! Books! But only the back of them! Might have to turn one over!

And then a look at the whole shebang:

Hey! Look at that! My name’s on ’em!

It’s exciting! All that work, chat, head scratching and lip-biting has finally turned into a book. That I can hold! And just to prove it – I will!

Lovely.

I tell you what, if that Stripes bunch hadn’t got involved, this would be about as long and pacy as War and Peace. Thanks, guys, for putting up with my initial, incoherent drafts and putting me on the right track.

So, there we go! It’s real! Book 2 is out next week! I hope you enjoy the little red monster! Let me know…

Andy x

I tell you what; I’m still recovering from the Waterstones Children’s Book Prize do the other night. Don’t misinterpret that – I don’t drink. It was just such a whirl and, to be honest, I don’t get out much.

Let’s do a rewind. When I got the news that I’d made the shortlist, I was astonished. My mad little book had somehow found its way onto some prestigious shortlist and there was going to be a ceremony and everything! I know now that it was largely thanks to those lovely Waterstones booksellers who championed it and those legions of generous bloggers who made such a noise about it – and I can’t thank you enough.

So, after my original chuffedness, I started to give it some serious though and decided well in advance that there was no way it was going to win; as I said on the night to more than a few people, I felt like the clown car at the Grand Prix.

But, as the night came round, and as I was deciding what to wear (the usual tramp chic, capped off with my only smart jacket), there was that nagging little voice that told me I had as much chance as anyone. And, much as I tried not to listen to it, it was still there – right up until the last second.

I got to Waterstones Picadilly early, in the mistaken belief that the do started at 6pm. With 45 minutes to kill, I wandered around the store, popping drops of Rescue Remedy to muffle the flap of butterflies in the tum. Around 6.15, I was too nervous not to go up to  the 5th floor, so I did – like that thing first step you take into a dentist’s surgery after hanging around the waiting room for too long.

The 5th floor was amazing. Big boards declaring the event, a flashy bar lit like one of those ones you see in nightclubs in American movies, TV screens bearing the Book Prize logo. The clown car really had arrived, honking and screeching at the Grand Prix.

Nerves got the better of me and I decided it was time for a wee. Anyone who’s read my book will know what PPS is – and I had a dose; there was a guy at the urinal, so I opted for the cubicle and, after fiddling with the lock, got myself drained. And then couldn’t open the lock. And then somebody wanted to get in the cubicle and we were both rattling the door and I muttered ‘sorry’ as it opened and felt like a complete twonk. I don’t think the Mighty Philip Reeve would’ve had this problem.

Back on the 5th floor, things were starting to rev up; people were arriving and hands were being shaken. After being signed in by the lovely meet and greeters, I managed to collar Darran from Northallerton Waterstones and have a chat with him; lovely chap – and I’m hoping to get to his store in the summer. My agent, Jenny turned up, Jane and the Stripes Gang appeared and we sort of grabbed a corner of the room and huddled. There were lots of faces appearing; some I knew and most, I didn’t. One face that was particularly welcome belonged to Paul Black of ex-Stripes fame. Hadn’t seen him for ages and it was so lovely to have someone with his tongue firmly in his cheek in the room.

And then it started. There was a little speech from Melissa, the organiser, followed by one from theWaterstones Head Honcho. And then there was a little film played on the monitors of all the books on the shortlist. And every time someone said ‘Geekhood’ or I saw it’s Geeky yellow cover on a board or monitor, my treacherous little heart did a little leap. Honestly, it was so surreal – me at the Book Prize do, surrounded by people of calibre and worth.

And then it got tense. They started with the Picture Book prize and my heart started racing then; I guess because it was the beginning. And that little voice in my head started doing the ‘you’ve got as much chance as anyone’ chant. By the time we got to the Teen category, I was a wreck and actually pressed my head against my agent’s shoulder, eyes tight shut. So butch.

I don’t know how they do it on the X-Factor when those judges do the read-out of who’s staying and who’s going and it takes about half an hour of silence before you hear what’s what. I think if I was a contestant, they’d be carrying off a corpse; there were milliseconds between the ‘and the winner is…’ and ‘Annabel Pitcher…’ but they felt like an eternity.

Once it was announced that Annabel had won, I was suddenly relieved. I was a bit trembly and think I might’ve apologised to my publishers for not winning, but there was no sense of disappointment; just relief that the tense stuff was over.

That sense of not being disappointed was borne out when I met the lady herself, who even let me touch the award, tart that I am. She was so lovely and appeared as confused and bewildered about everything that I was. I haven’t read her book, yet, but I’m going to. If it’s anything as generous and lovely as she was, then it’s no wonder she won.

There were a few more rounds of carousel-style handshakes and people saying lovely things to me about Geekhood and then I was on Oxford Street, looking for my car. But, genuinely, without any sense of ‘it should have been me’ or loss. Before I left, one lady from Waterstones said “And have you had a little present from us?” and my dunderheaded, naive, but honest reply was “Well, you got me here; surely that’s present enough?” But it wasn’t; I got a bottle of fizz pressed into my hands – which I’ll give to my Mum when I next see her.

Despite my inability to control my nerves, it was a brilliant event and something that I’m really glad that I got the chance to experience. In writing Geekhood, I wasn’t setting out to try and win awards – in my dopey ignorance, I wasn’t even aware of most of them. But I had a blast and got to meet some really lovely people, whose passion for books was inspiring.

I’m glad Annabel won; she looks like one of those flok who deserves to – a good egg. And, who knows, maybe the clown car’ll get dusted down for another occasion?

Honk, honk!

Andy

OK, you crazy kids. It finally looks llike the launch do for Geekhood: Mission Improbable is to become a reality – thanks to Michael and the events team at Waterstones on High Street Kensington.

The date will be April the 8th, you know where and I’ll confirm the time once it’s decided.

Anyone who came to the last launch will know just how loopy it was. There was Darth Vader swanning about, a couple of Stormtroopers reading inappropriate books and even some miniature-painting and RPGing going on.

And then there was you guys, who rose to the challenge of coming dressed as a Geek, with all the grace and aplomb of a bunch of genuine social misfits.

How the merry Hell do we top that???

Well, I have a plan. But once again, it needs you guys to throw social convention to the wind and join me for an evening of silliness and Geeky joy. Here we go:

No Dark Lord, no Troopers. Instead, I’m hoping to get the God of Mischief, Loki, turning up, the Caped Crusaderess, Batgirl, your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman and a couple of other surprises, to boot.

Yup – the theme is superheroes… and this is where you come in:

Of course it’s entirely optional, but I’m throwing down a garishly-coloured gauntlet. If you are up for it, I would love it if you came as the superhero of your choice. You can go DC, Marvel, Titan – whatever – or you can create your own superhero!!! I’m going to do my dangdest to sort out some prizes for the best-dressed superpowered vigilantes and you’ll be in good company, as there are some hardcore cosplayers on the list.

I’ve been to a couple of author events and decided that I want to put the fun back into these events. Aside from a couple of short speeches, there’ll be no waffle, no reading from books or any of that; just us lot, all together, creating out own Garden of Geekdom for a short time.

Let’s make it more fun, more colourful and more Geeky than the last one:

Geekvengers: Assemble!

See you there.

Andy x

When I woke up this morning, on St Valentine’s Day, 2013, there was one thing and one thing only on my mind…

The new toilet pump I’d ordered for my boat.

You see, living on a boat has it’s own problems and when your toilet starts making funny noises, you know that something needs replacing and, a couple of days ago, I ordered that vital part. So, when I bounced out of bed, I was all excited at the prospect of getting my Gentleman’s Excuse Me all ready and working again.

And then I went on Twitter.

And then I saw that my little yellow book had somehow found itself on the shortlist for the Waterstones Children’s Book Proze, 2013.

And then this went through my head – with roughly the same exppression as you can see :

As you can see, I handled it with my usual Bond-like calm. Once I’d tidied up the resulting mess – I’m not going to lie – I checked out who else is on the list aka ‘The Competition’. Wow. There’s a bunch of stunning books. Like really big, beautiful, books. And somehow, mine’s rubbing shoulders with them.

Cooooool.

When I set out writing the thing, I was – and still am – blissfully ignorant of stuff like this. I was just grateful and chuffed that someone had thought it might be worth putting into print. Getting this far in the Waterstones Prize is incredibly humbling – I like my book, but it didn’t mean anyone else had to.

So, I guess there are many, many thanks to be thrown out to people for helping me get this far: Jenny, my agent, Jane and the Stripes team, the bloggers, reviewers and readers who’ve all shown their support and, of course, everyone at Waterstones for looking kindly on my little tome.

I wish EVERYONE on the list the very best of luck and I can only hope that they’re as excited as I am.

See you at the ceremony, luv!

Right – off to fix me loo.

Part of my reasons for wanting to be an actor, all those millions of years ago, was that I liked the idea that telling a story might somehow have an effect on someone in the audience. The idea that someone might be moved enough by the themes in MacBeth or Comedians to rethink an aspect of their lives was sort of my Holy Grail – and I think it was for most Turns of my generation.

The frustrating thing is that you never got to find out. There’d be the odd time when somebody came up to say how much they enjoyed the show or what you did or whatever, but there was never any inkling as to whether they’d been affected on the profound level that you were secretly hoping for. And that’s where doing authory things, like school visits, ticks an idealistic box for me.

I’ve just got back from doing an author visit/gig/yap at Easthampstead Park Community School, near Reading. It was my first author gig of the year and, not having done one for a few weeks, I was a bit nervous, rusty and dusty. But, within minutes of being there, I was introduced to a number of students, all bubbling with questions and excitement about whatever it was that I was going to do.

Before a do, I like to try and mingle a bit with the audience and find out a bit about them and let them ask me a few questions on the fly; it’s a bit like taking the temperature of the room, before anything happens.

And then I kicked off and we were off and running. I can’t remember all the questions; I kick into Chatterbox Mode and try and get as much into those sixty minutes as I can, but the crowd were really responsive and we created an event that will be unique to that school. But it’s less to do with me and more to do with the engagement of the students.

After the event, there was a signing, where I got to yap to people on a more personal level and had some very lovely conversations. What I really got out of it was that thing you never really get as an actor: people telling you why they enjoyed it and how it’s made them rethink things or maybe argue about why Sci-Fi is better than Fantasy or whatnot. But that Holy Grail is closer in this situation than it is when you’re dressed up and pretending to be someone else.

In some way, the best bits – the most personal exchanges – are those that happen before or after an event. I was introduced today to people who told me their future dreams, unaware that they were helping me fulfil a few of my idealistic little ambitions. One guy even told me it was an honour to meet me. In reality, I think the honour has to be mine.

Easthampstead Park School is a great school, packed with great and enthusiastic pupils – and they’re crying out for authors. So, if you’re one, drop ’em a line – you’ll have a blast. It’s good to talk.

PS. There was one guy there who I was humbled to have met and I just want to thank him for filming the event. No names – but keep flying the flag, chap. When I was 11, I told a proper grown-up actor that that was what I wanted to do. He told me: “If you want it enough, you’ll make it happen. But you’ve got to want it.” Same goes.

Now, here’s a thing. When I wrote Geekhood: Close Encounters of the Girl Kind, one of the most important characters was Mum. Although she’s not as major a player as Archie and the gang, she is very much part of Archie’s backbone, wether he’s aware of it or not. In  his world, she’s like a background noise that occasionally comes through with a Very Important Tune, like when you’ve got the radio on, but you’re not really paying attention until That Song shows up.

Primarily, the book is about Archie’s interactions with his mates and, of course, Sarah. But it’s also about Archie and his Mum and their relationship, especially as that’s changed in light of her divorce from his father. My folks split up when I was in my teens and my relationship definitely changed; rather than being just mother and son, we were thrown together as friends and forced to learn about each other as people, rather than relatives. I’m proud to say that my relationship with my mum evolved fantastically and I know her more as my Best Friend than just the woman who occasionally still does my washing.

With Archie and his mum, I didn’t want to look at the forging of their friendship as it happened, but to see how it fared with another person in the equation: Tony. It’s difficult for a parent to be all things to everyone in a situation like that; they’re parents, friends and lovers and human beings. On top of that, as a teenager, you’re changing – and pretty uncompromisingly, so the relationship can get a little blurry at times. While I’ve had some lovely feedback from teens, I’ve been waiting for a mum to let me know how Geekhood reads from their point of view. And then this turned up:

Being tagged for The Next Big Thing blog-relay is both an honour and riddled with serendipity. When Louise Gibney tagged me for this malarkey, one of the criteria was that I had to have a book in the pipeline. Which, as it happens, I do and the spanky new cover was released on Twitter only a few days ago. Have a look:

One of the other criteria was that I give my tagger a little nod and I can cheerfully say that I’m delighted to do so. I chat with Louise on Twitter (@MissWriteUK in case you’re interested) and, if her Next Big Thing Blog is anything to go by, then her next book, Scrabble Pieces, should be an insightful study into how people deal with grief. So,  thanks to Louise (www.misswrite.co.uk) for helping me get my head together and making me answer the following questions:

What is the working title of your next book?

I’m pleased to say that it’s an actual title, now: Geekhood: Mission Improbable. Which is a bit less of a mouthful than the other one!

Where did the idea for the book come from?

I’m going to have to be a bit cryptic here, because it’s still very much in the edit stage. But, I can say that it’s something I really wanted to do as a teenager, but couldn’t. It’s a natural progression from the RPGs in Book One and I had to do some research, which opened my eyes to an aspect of life that I hadn’t really considered. All will become clear in April 2013…

What genre does your book fall under?

That’s an interesting one and one I was chatting through with the Stripes Publicist, Katie, the other day. She says that when she approaches bookshops, she categorises it as ‘humour’. Which is weird, because I didn’t set to write it as a ‘funny’ book; it’s just a peek inside the head of a 14 year-old. But I guess they can befunny places. One Amazon  review described it as a ‘self-help book,’ which is also weird because, although I had things I wanted to say through the story, it wasn’t with any grand ideas that I could solve any problems for anyone. If I was going to categorise it, I’d invent one, like ‘Human Interest’ or something. I don’t know. I love the fact that people find it funny and that they take something from it; that’s more than enough for me.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

Now that would be telling! I kind of don’t want to say, because I want everyone to create their own Archies, Matts, Beggsys and Ravis in their heads, so they get to own them. Once you’ve identified an actor as a character, then it’s like that ownership’s gone. I know who I think Archie looks like in my head, but that’s no more valid than who he looks like in other people’s heads and I think it should stay that way.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

It’s Geekier than the last one.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

The lovely folk at Stripes Books must take the credit for this one. I’ve never self-published, so I can’t even begin to comment. But, for me, having grown-ups on the end of the phone is a very reassuring thing. And things like seeing the new cover is a great surprise. It’s always interesting to see howother people visualise what you’re on about.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

About eight months, I think. My first draft is always a bit of a sprawler, rammed with all the ideas I’ve got. Second draft is where you work out what the good ones are!

What other books would you compare this story to in your genre?

I wouldn’t, because I think that’d be a bit presumptuous of me. But some lovely people have; have a look on the inside cover of Book One and you’ll see.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

Everything I do is inspired by my son. Sounds slushy, I know, but it really is as simple as that. I think I wanted to leave him something that he could read and swim around in my head a bit.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

I can’t say too much, but there are three scenes that I know boys will relate to, in a horribly cringy way. And I hope it gives girls a bit of an idea that we don’t have it that easy in our teens; not as easy as you’re led to believe.

Phew! There we go – questions done. Now I’ve got to pass the blog-baton onto some authors I like, soI’m going to tag them without asking their permission and see what happens. These folk will hopefully tell you about their Next Big Thing:

Philip Reeve: some sort of god in tweed. (Goblins)

Sarwat Chadda: a Geek after my own heart. (Ash Mistry)

Curtis Jobling: simply irresistible. (Wereworld)

Guy Bass: a man with an obsession with his pants.(Stitch Head)

Andy Briggs: a top chap who does dangerous research. (Tarzan)

Right – back to the edits! Thanks again to Louise for getting me in on this and Geeky Greetings to all that have read Geekhood and those that are about to.

Andy