It all started with this guy:

For those of you who don’t know who he is – and SHAME on you – you’re looking at a picture of Tom Baker, the Fourth Doctor and a brilliant Sherlock Holmes. It was Doctor Who that made me want to be an actor and, many years later, when I was one, I saw Tom walking down a street towards me. And I did that thing that most of us do: froze, let him walk by and then kick yourself for a good few hours after.

That was the turning point. I resolved that if I ever encountered somebody I respect or admire, I’d at least say hallo. It’s a bit different from working with your heroes; I met this guy in 1998:

 This is Nigel Terry: a guy who was an a Actor Hero of mine since I saw Excalibur in the early 80’s. I got to work with him and it was weirdly cool, because we were both doing the same job. I didn’t have to do awkward hallos, because I got to work with him every day for 3 months. But I still got a kick out of it.

But my resolution led me to meet other heroes, like this:

And I got to meet one this year. And  go round to his house for a cup of tea. They say ‘don’t meet your heroes.’ I disagree. Every time I meet someone I admire, it’s like I get to travel back in time to meet my younger self and whisper in my year that in X Amount of Years, I’ll be hanging out with That Person. This recent addition to my time-travelling hero-worship meant that I got to travel back to myself in 2003 and say “in 9 years time, you’ll be drinking tea with this guy and even refusing a Digestive.” 33 year-old me would be blown away because on that particular day in 1993, I am picking up a book that will leave a lasting impression on me and make me hunt down pretty much everything else he ever writes. Because in 9 years time, this will happen:

I will meet Philip Reeve. And when I tell my 33 year-old self what’s going to happen, he’s not going to believe it. But I’ll have to make him promise to behave himself on that day; no showing me up.

I’m pleased to report that all the people I’ve respected and had the chance to meet have all been lovely – and I even count a couple of them as friends. Meet your heroes. They might not be what you expect, but you can tell your past self that you’re actually going to do it, which’ll give you something to look forward to – even if you don’t know it.

Wow! I reached 500 followers on Twitter – and I’d like to say thanks to each and every one of you for putting up with my often-banal, sometimes funny and generally confusing blather.

Thanks, all.

To mark this Tremendous Occasion,  I wanna do a competition. Never done one before, so it’s going to be a bit basic, but here we go…

One of my vain boasts is that I used to draw a static cartoon for the BBC, called Showbiz Sean. I only say that to let you know I’m ok with a pen and pencil. I did also have a picture printed in Whoopee Comic, but that doesn’t really count.

Anyhoo, for one Lucky Winner, I will sign a copy of my book, PLUS I’ll do a one-off, watercolour cartoon of what I think Archie looks like – all on proper watercolour paper and everything.

Here’s what to do: simply Tweet to the world that you’re entering The Geekhood Competition – that way, I know who’s playing.  All names will be put into a Randomiser (organised by Stripes) and, in ten days time, it’ll be announced who won. You can do more than one Tweet, which does increase your chances of winning.

It’s simple, because I’m a dunce. There will be a more complicated one as Geekhood 2 gears-up – but that’s for another time…

Thanks again – amd good luck!

Andy x

Grey Girls. With horns.

Last night, I went to ReCon, held in Southhampton’s Waterstones Above Bar. OK, I’ve been to a couple of conventions in my time (a Dr Who one in Longleat in the ’80s and once, when my mate, Miserable Jim was working as a TV presenter, he blagged me in, as his soundman, to a Star Trek convention – and we met Willian Shatner!). But I’d never done a convention in a shop and I didn’t really know what to expect.

When I got there, there was a queue forming out the front of the store, with a few tell-tale tridents giving me a bit more of a clue. The guys showed me in and downstairs, where I med Robin The Geeklord, who seemed to be masterminding the whole thing. After hallos with the other authors and a comic-book artist, I parked myself and waited for the doors to open.

Which they did. Bringing with them a river of Cosplay outfits and home-made props, the like of which I’ve never seen before. Like a rainbow. With horns. And guns.Have a butcher’s at these:

Big Gun Girl!

Me with Big Gun

And Luigi! Why not?

We did a Q&A with the assembly, who looked like this, from my point of view.

RECON!!!

I had to have three goes at taking this picture: the first time, I had the camera the wrong way round and took a photo of my forehead, the second time – just as I was about to click the button, my Mum rang (cue jeering) – third time, lucky.

Q&A was great, even if my knowledge of Anime only went as far as Scooby Doo. Then there was more signing and chatting to the crowd, before the Cosplay Competition – which we got to judge! But that was hard; there were so many cool costumes that had obviously involved a heck of a lot of effort – but we nailed it down to  three.

There was a quiz (which I couldn’t answer in any shape or form) and a raffle with prizes that were cool enough to make me wish I’d at least worn a beard.

But the overwhelming thing that struck me wasn’t the stunning costumes or the mind-bending props; it was the sense of celebration about the whole thing. Honestly, as soon as those guys came down the stairs, the mood lifted and just kept on rising. I’m always banging on that Geeks are people who find beauty where others don’t and I think ReCon went some way to proving my theory; everyone was ridiculously happy to be there and revelling in an environment where they could step out of Real Life and create something infinitely more colourful.

PokeTwins!

I had a blast; a big, fat, Geeky, Cosplay blast and even though I had to drive back home up the M3 and through the rain, the sheer joy of the whole thing helped the journey pass much quicker than coming down.

Thanks to Robin and his dedicated gang for inviting me, thanks to the other authors for putting up with my excitable behaviour and thanks to the 170-odd people who came and let me into their worlds for an evening. There’s another of these extravaganzas next year. I hope to be going back. If you’re in the area, I seriously suggest you go. SERIOUSLY.

Ok.Here’s the deal. I’m 42 and still wearing the same haircut (I use the term loosely) as I have done since I was allowed to make these aesthetic decisions for myself. My hair has been described as a ‘mop,’ by the Daily Mail as ‘a retro perm, (I hasten to add I’ve never been near a roller in my life) and as ‘an explosion in a wig factory.’ I’ve always liked it, meself. When I decided to go into Showbiz, I had these grand ideas about playing Shakespeare in a puffy-sleeved shirt, with my hair flopping about in unruly ringlets. In fact, most of the parts I got, I’m sure, were down to my hairstyle; my first TV job was as a surfer, I played a jockey in the Bill because I looked like the flat-racer Johnny Frankham, played a ne’er do well in Far From the Madding Crowd and I was cast as a murderer in Corrie, because I looked a bit different. Theatre-wise, I got to do a lot of period stuff; Shakespeare, La Barca and even an IRA hitman in the 80’s. My hair opened doors for me – but not like Medusa’s hair might’ve done. We’re talking figuratively.

So here’s the problem. Once upon a time, I looked a bit like this:

However, as time went by, it became less – shall we say -‘lustrous.’ And it got to a point a couple of years back when – strike me down with a feather – there was that sobering moment when my hairdesser showed me the back of my  head. You know what I’m saying.

Now, I’ve never thought of myself as particularly vain; I don’t subscribe to fashion, I don’t moisturise and rarely raised a brush in anger to my bonce. But, for some reason, I can’t bring myself to have a haircut; a proper one. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had short hair before and liked it, but it tends to make me look like this:

Which isn’t so bad but, in my head, I’m not that; I’m a bit of a fluffy nerk that people are able to approach on sight because I radiate harmlessness like a shockwave. And,  the problem isn’t really with the front of my head; the problem’s at the back, which was recently described as looking like ‘a chimpanzee’s arse.’

So, whaddo I do, folks? Hand on for one more year or bite the bullet and buy a hockey mask for my new image? Your thoughts are graciously requested and a decision may well be made on the back of them…

. What’s the difference between a Nerd and a Geek? Since the book came out, it’s a question I’ve been repeatedly asked and have repeatedly failed to answer. But it’s an interesting one, so I thought I should give it some thought. So I did.

I ought to point out that I have no Absolute Knowledge on what separates the two camps and that what follows is just my humble opinion. So, if you’re a Geek or a Nerd and you disagree or you’re offended…well, I’m sorry. So let’s have a look.

I think the real difference between Nerds and Geeks is the Belief System. Recently, I bought a book about the scientific principles behind superhero powers. The cover looked great, the title was great, the blurb was great – but it bored me to death. There’s no doubtung that the author went into extraordinary detail to make his points, but I just couldn’t get on with it. And this, I reckon, might be where we start to find our answers: I would contest that I am a Geek and that the author is a Nerd.

Why? As a Geek, I am prepared to invest myself fully in a world where people have superpowers and, for the time I’m reading a comic or watching a film, embrace the concept without question. A Nerd is the guy who might read the same comic or watch the same film and then be able to tell me why it’s not possible; not necessarily with any contempt, but as a matter of pure fact. For example, in Doctor Who, I know that when the Third Doctor said he was going to reverse the polarity of the neutron flow, it was going to get him out of trouble. I didn’t need to know how or why: I knew that the neutrons’ polarity was going to be reversed and that was all that was needed. A Nerd would be able to tell me whether or not this was possible in the first place and what its consequences were likely to be.

But does this mean that Nerds are spoilsports? Not at all. If Geeks are the Dreamers of the Impossible, then Nerds are the Architects of the Possible. There’s been some hoo-ha about  the recent creation of some medical tools just like the ones Dr McCoy used in Star Trek. Geeks across the world will have been clapping and cheering that a dream has become reality, but I’ll bet you my last Tribble that it took a Nerd to make it so.

So why are Nerds and Geeks so often confused? By my reckoning it’s because, to  the untrained ear, they do sound similar. Get a Geek to buy into a concept like, say, Star Wars and they will learn the lines, research the mythology and buy the merchandise. A Nerd may enjoy the film just as much, but the challenge for him would be to prove why the Millenium Falcon can’t fly or that lightsabres may well be a possibillity in the next 5 years (here’s hoping; I want a red one). But they way that the two groups express themselves isn’t poles apart. A Geek will be able to quote the lines, tell you in which scene the Stormtrooper bumps his head or how to wrestle the ears off a Gundark. A Nerd will use jargon obscura to explain the flaws in the theory of jumping to hyperspace or why midichlorians are not as far-fetched as you might think. To those who’ve just enjoyed the film on a basic level, this kind of talk borders on insanity.

I think Geeks are the artistic aspect and Nerds are the technical; Geeks dream the dreams and Nerds make them a reality or tell you why it’ll never happen. If I had to throw my hat in the ring, I’d say Geeks are the romantics and Nerds are the realists, but each is as valid as the other. In many ways, we need each other: Geeks to dream it and Nerds to make it.

I’ve been quoted as saying (because I did) that Geeks see beauty where others don’t. I still think this is true, but I think Nerds see the practical application for that beauty.

And which am I? I’m a Geek. I dive head-first into books, films and comics without wanting to know about the whys and wherefores: I know Spidey can climb walls and that the Hulk was made out of gamma radiation. But I’ve got this idea for gravity-defying boxer-shorts… I need to meet a Nerd to get them off the ground.

No-one can prepare you for your first book tour. Not even three years training at drama school can prepare you for your first book tour. I’m just about to enter the final leg, with a visit to my old school in Devon and a radio interview on Radio Devon – all in the name of Geekhood.

So what’s the difference? I mean, I’ve done tours. They were part of our training at LAMDA and I’ve done them as an actor – so why should this one be any different? Those were pretty much my thoughts when Stripes said it might be a good idea.

The main difference is that I didn’t have a script, a director or other cast members to hide behind. “Not a problem,” I thought,”I’ll write something.” But that flagged up something else: no character to hide behind, either. This was about my book and, to some extent, me. I threw a few ideas around my head – and some of them I’m cringing about now. One of my visions involved me arriving dressed up as something out of Lord of the Rings. Another involved me getting one of those t-shirts that plays music and coming on to the Star Wars Suite – pumped out by my top. There were lightsabres, pointed ears and all sorts. And then I realised I was doing what actors do when they don’t know what they’re doing: they play with props. No good.

So back to the content I came – a little folornly. What was I going to say to a roomful of people at least 25 years younger than me? Was I going to connect with them? Was I ‘groovy’ enough?

And then I woke up. The point, for me, wasn’t to impress or try and distract people into thinking I’m something I’m not. The point was to be honest. Which goes against the grain for most actors – you’re a professional liar. But, what I did have on my side was the book: it’s honest. I wrote it with all the horror of my own teenage years firmly in mind – and if you’re going to connect with anyone, honesty is the best way to do it. So, I started by telling everyone that I was nervous, which made me feel a bit better and, hopefully, started building a bridge between me and the people in front of me. I then backed this up with the horribly true story of me asking a girl out for the first time. And failing.

By the time I was yakking on about the themes in the book, we’d established enough of a bond that people were happy to start asking questions and, as a result, each event was different, shaped by those present. Some were funnier than others, some were quite serious – but they were all honest.

I’ve told you what I didn’t have. Here’s what I did have: I had Paul Black. Usually on a tour, the actors will come to know each other fairly slowly: as you rehearse, you’re also sounding each other out. By the time you get to the first night, you’ve established the hierarchy, worked out who’s up for a laigh and who isn’t and started to build friendships. When me and Paul started out in Edinburgh, we didn’t really know each other; we’d met a couple of times, but that was it. So, it was all very professional and polite for the first couple of days – which weren’t particularly hectic. I think we did one school on one day and two the next and then we had a weekend off. I went home and Paul went to a party. When we got together two days later, it was suddenly like we’d done the rehearsals and first night and the gloves came off – it was like we’d been on tour for a month.

Any actor who’s done a tour knows the dangers of Cabin Fever. It comes in about the third week of touring and usually ends up in boozy nights. I thinki t’s because you are existing in the bubble of the play – the only people you talk to, both on and off stage, are the other actors and it sends you a bit potty. Luckily, I don’t drink and Paul doesn’t much. Our Cabin Fever came by about Day 3 and we ended up remoreselessly teasing each other and anyone who came into contact with us: booksellers, teachers. But it was kind of infectious and we ended up roping everyone into our madness. As a footnote, Paul can do a brilliant rendition of my opening speech: get him to do it if you meet him.

We charged through Edinburgh, Newcastle, Blackpool and East London, laughing pretty much all the way. I think it’s that that sets a book tour apart from a showbiz one; it’s much more intense and the audience interatcion is so much more immediate and heartfelt: if they don’t like you, you’ll know about it. But, if you are all talking the same language, you’ll be rewarded. You don’t want to go in thinking you’re going to tell teenagers all about your book; in my limited experience, you need to understand that you’re going to discuss it with them – that it’s a two-way thing. Not you and them, but ‘us’.

By the time it was over, I was shattered: the nerves, the hilarity and the madness really took their toll. But I’m glad I did it and I look forward to the next one. I’ve come away with some great memories of students and their brilliant comments and at least one good friend. It doesn’t get much better than that.

Right-o. I’m new at the whole authory bit; I’ve written a book but, as I’m learning, there’s a lot more to writing a book than just writing a book.

As part of my induction into the wacky world of words, I’ve been asked to do guest posts on bloggers’ blogs and do a couple of interviews – again, by bloggers. Now, never having done stuff with bloggers before, I invited a couple of them down to where I live, cooked up something like lunch and rambled on while they took notes, fiddled with their dictaphones or looked at me like I was mad. Both these people were very lovely, articulate types – who were doing me a big, fat favour in the form of, what is essentially, free publicity.

Each blogger (you know who you are) came down on separate occassions and each interview was different, but they both said something that I found quite surprising: “We bloggers tend not to get to meet authors like this.” Even further into our conversations, it was mentioned that meeting an author was described as an ‘honour’ and emails from them were things to be treasured; contact can be rare.

So, as a new boy, I’m wondering why the apparent divide? OK, I’m lucky to be in a position to have a bit of time to spare; I can understand that not everybody does. But for those that do: what’s the problem? Fluffy, artistic notions aside, getting a book published requires a bigger engine than just the author and bloggers are, in the 21st Century, an important part of that machine. Bottom line, whether they like your book or not,  they are creating an awareness of it and giving it some virtual value. Surely hooking up in a coffee-shop is the least you can do?

Maybe I’m being a bit naive about some aspects of publishing, but that’s due to my newness. My other job is in Showbiz and there used to be a thing that actors and stage-management teams don’t hang out. I never understood that, either. The way I see it, bloggers are an essential and valuable part of a mult-tentacled process and should be viewed as integral facets. Once a book becomes a commercial product, don’t authors owe it to everyone involved to say hallo at some point?

The other thing that confused me was one blogger, having volunteered their site for my blog tour, asked me what I wanted to write on it. Without wishing to sound like The Bloggers’ Champeen, I asked what they would like me to write: after all, it’s their blog, which they’ve grown, nurtured and invested hundreds of alrtuistic hours in; it’d be a bit like staying in someone’s house for a night and redecorating it without permission.

However, most of the authors I’ve met on Twitter and in real-life seem to be cool, approachable people – so maybe the divide is only perceived. I hope so; it would be saddening to think that writey types wouldn’t give up a bit of time to chat with and meet people who are interested in spreading the word, simply for the love of literature.

This post might be a bit naive and idealistic but, in becoming an author, I don’t want to become part of an elite club that is open to members only. I’d rather we all acknowledged each others’ roles in turning what starts as an idea into something that people want to read.

*climbs out of pulpit, to the sound of tumbleweeds and the occassional snore*

Everyone else had one, so I wanted one. Here’s where you’ll find thoughts and opinions that tumble out of my brain and mouth. Not necessarily in that order.