Veto Lark News

Very, very close to releasing the first Veto Lark collection of slightly connected short stories...

Nervous and excited!

Bunnies and Eggs

As it's Easter, things are likely to get a bit hectic. However, as I watch the snow flutter majestically from the sky, I fully intend to eat as much chocolate, drink as much Easter beverage as possible, and generally do little else.
If I could, I would smuggle several bunnies into the house, however, that would most likely be a bad idea.
In the meantime, I may even write some more Veto Lark -

'Veto Lark and the Rampant Rabbits of A Summersland.'

Veto Lark: A Case of Scales

Veto Lark: A Case of Scales

Part One

by

Magz Wiseman

The spotlessly clean steam train wound its way sedately through the perfect 1:1 scale scenery of Switzerland. The grandeur that was the Alps lined the horizon, each detail perfectly crafted to the finest point. 

It chuffed its way past villages, stopping occasionally at picturesque stations along the way, before continuing past gently rolling green fields full of cows that never moved. 

Sitting in a first class carriage, sipping champagne from a silver hip flask, Veto Lark had noted with interest that no one ever boarded, nor departed the train at any of the stations. The few people milling around on the platforms never once glanced at the train. All merely stared in random directions, never talking, never moving.

He had also found it curious the fact there was only ever one guard at any given station; a guard who looked remarkably similar to all the other guards in every other station; one who always stood in an identical position, one hand forever raised, grasping a red flag which never fluttered. Even had there been a wind to ruffle it, sturdy plastic tended not to move much at all.

"Remarkable, isn't it?"

Veto looked up at the woman who had silently entered the compartment, and was now sitting opposite him. Disguising his sudden shock at the unexpected intrusion, he feigned the cool unflappable calm he was famous for, by taking a quick glug from his flask. The desired effect was temporarily dented by an unsubtle burp as his innards objected to the sudden rush of fermented bubbles.

"Yes. Quite. Indeed it is..." He made a mental note not to fill the flask with anything effervescent in future.

The woman wore confidence and finesse as comfortably as she did her luxurious llama-fur coat and matching hat. Her cold, slate grey eyes regarded him with mild curiosity and, quite possibly, amusement.

"You have it for me?" Only the barest flicker of an eyelid indicated a chink in her emotions, her nerves hidden well behind her perfect exterior.  Veto would have applauded her control had not the situation been so serious. 

"I might have." 

"Do you have it, or not?" The flicker turned to anger. 

"Do you have the payment?" Veto assumed his most relaxed pose, only just preventing himself from slipping off the hard, plastic seat. Sitting himself upright once more, he maintained the stand-off. 

A vague narrowing of eyes before she deftly withdrew a slim envelope from her bag. 

End of Part One

Free Short Story - Veto Lark: Scavenger of the Stars

Veto Lark: Scavenger of the Stars

by Magz Wiseman

The magnificent foyer of the British Museum hummed with the current cream of society. ‘A’ list celebrities feigned knowledge of the finer points of Ancient Egyptian civilisation as they cast critical eyes over each other’s attire, hair, and shoes. Several leading politicians made lucrative deals over champagne and canapés, while esteemed professors of history and archaeology debated theories and discoveries within their respected disciplines.

Amongst all this, a vaguely handsome man casually wove his way through the gathered assemblage. Charming both guests and catering staff alike, Veto Lark almost drew a large number of glances. Most of those admiring looks quickly slid away however, his features instantly forgotten. This could have been due to the fact that his smart, yet ill-fitting tuxedo was a tad scruffier when scrutinised further, or it may have been because his eyes revealed a hidden oddness when looked directly into. It was, however, more likely caused by the disruptance wave emitted from a small transmitter attached to the lapel of his jacket. Cleverly disguised as a popular flower, the device caused anyone paying undue attention to him to feel rather queasy, and develop the sudden urge to avert their gaze to anywhere else.

Veto spotted an imposing, portly man in his mid-fifties chatting animatedly to an elegant tweed encrusted woman who appeared to be about the same age. He immediately directed his amble toward the couple and burst into their conversation.

“Professor Herbert Schneider! Head of the Department of Egyptology, if I’m not mistaken.” Veto grabbed the scholar’s hand and shook it vigorously. The Professor seemed alarmed, finding himself not quite able to look the newcomer in the eye, yet obviously unwilling to be impolite. “Sorry… One moment.” Veto fiddled with the petals of the flower on his lapel. “Better?”

“Well, yes…” the Professor muttered, feeling considerably better. Finally able to look at the man, Herbert wondered why the chap standing before him was wearing a large sunflower on his jacket; particularly to such a prestigious black tie event.

“It is an absolute pleasure to meet you, sir. What a coup for the museum!” Veto enthused.

The Professor immediately warmed to his subject. “Indeed it is. It was most gratifying to be successful in the bid to be the first to exhibit these stunning new pieces.” He glanced smugly at the woman standing beside him. “May I introduce Professor Clarissa Johnson, my counterpart at the Smithsonian.”

Veto ignored Clarissa, his attention firmly on Herbert. “You know, I would just love a sneaky preview, Professor.” His eyes bored into Schneider’s.

Herbert felt a little perturbed at the stranger’s gaze. “I’m afraid you will just have to be patient…”

“I would really like to see it now…” Veto’s eyes held Herbert’s. The Professor felt a little lightheaded and began to wonder why it wasn’t such a bad idea to do as the man asked. He did seem jolly interested, after all. There was surely no harm in allowing him to do so…

An attractive young woman in a dangerously short black dress joined the group, carefully balancing three flutes of champagne. Seeing her hand one of the glasses to Professor Schneider, and the other to Professor Johnson, Veto took the third for himself. Admiring the waitress’s considerable endowments, he flashed her one of his ‘special’ smiles. She raised an amused eyebrow as Veto gulped his champagne down in one, following it with a reverberating burp.

“Venusian Clicquot ‘78, if I’m not mistaken,” Veto stated, always ready to impress. All three looked blankly at him. Swiftly changing the subject, he addressed the waitress once more. “How about you and I have a little fumble in the Antiquities section later?” He winked meaningfully, confident his dazzling smile had already melted her defences. He suspected this night would be profitable in more ways than one.

A polite cough from the Professor dragged his attention back to the task in hand. “So, then Herbert, May I call you Herbert? Now, about this little guided tour you were about to take me on? Won’t take long. Just one teeny little item I’d love to see before the rest of the Riff-Raff get a chance.”

“As I stated before, no.” The Professor’s expression had grown rather stony. “May I also introduce you to Abi Schneider. My wife.” He gestured to the woman in the black dress.

Veto looked from Abi to the Professor, then back again, and burst out laughing. “Oh, you nearly had me going there, you old coot!”

There was no doubt about it; the Professor was most definitely not amused. “I think perhaps you should circulate, sir… don’t you?”

Veto’s grin faded. “What? Seriously?” He cast another glance at the ‘waitress’. “Ah… right. My little joke, of course.” He shuffled a little, but soon grasped the situation back under control. “So. Statue, about this big…” He gestured randomly with his hands.

“Go away, or I shall call security,” Herbert growled.

“Don’t you get yourself all upset now, love,” Abi put her hand on the Professor’s arm, not noticing the jealous glare Clarissa failed to hide. “Some more champagne, dear?” Moving away from Herbert, she grabbed Veto’s arm, propelling him away.

“Seriously, go away,” Abi hissed.

“Oh, go on. Let me have just a little peak?” Veto pleaded with his best puppy dog eyes. “Then you can show me the statue.” Abi glared at him, secretly amused at his audacity. As she stared at him, she felt a moment of dizziness.

“What’s so special about this statue anyway?” Her curiosity was piqued.

“Oh, nothing much. Nothing at all, in fact. I’ve just always wanted to see it. Ever since I was knee high to a Doltron.”

“It was only uncovered last year,” Abi pointed out. “And what exactly is a ‘Doltron’?’”

“Rather short, nasty creatures. Tend to disguise themselves as small, excitable dogs. You know, the little yappy types.”

“Who are you?”

“Veto Lark.” Again the charming smile.

“If I do take you to see the statue, will you promise to go away?”

“Of course, ma petite garde-robe,” Veto gave a delicate bow, spoilt only by his hair flopping over his face.

“You are strange. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“All the time!”

***

Ensuring no one was watching, particularly her husband, Abi slipped through the door of the exhibition hall where the new artifacts were on display. Veto followed close behind. She’d been inside several times earlier with Herbert as the exhibition was being prepared. He had fussed around, ensuring everything was perfect for the opening, driving everyone insane with his insistence on absolute perfection. Then, it had been bustling with staff making last minute preparations. The silent room now emanated a creepiness which made her shiver.

“What exactly are you looking for?” Abi whispered. Veto pulled a phone from his pocket and flicked through a number of images until he found one of a small, very ugly statuette. Nodding, Abi pointed towards the left of the hall. “I think I remember something like that being over there. Didn’t like it much. It felt… wrong. ” Veto had already set off in the direction she had indicated. She hurried after him, suddenly questioning the reason why she was doing this.

After becoming a little lost around the section of Fourth Dynasty limestone reliefs, Abi stopped and listened. A curious buzzing sound seemed to be coming from the far corner. Stepping quietly, she followed the noise. Peeking around a rather plain looking sarcophagus, Abi’s eyes widened as she spotted Veto holding what looked to be a pencil torch over a glass case containing several small statues.

“What are you doing?” She walked over cautiously.

“Nothing.” Veto continued to hover the torch over the glass.

“You’re not trying to steal that, are you?” Abi halted a safe distance away.

“Nope. Just returning it to it’s rightful owners.” Veto glanced up with a charming grin.

Abi backed away. “Right…”

“I wouldn’t go calling security or anything silly like that. Would rather avoid any trouble. Two ticks and I’ll be gone.”

Abi turned and fled. Sighing, Veto straightened up, pulled what looked alarmingly like a small gun from his pocket, and fired it at Abi’s back. A dull orange beam engulfed her for a few seconds, dissipating as she slumped to the floor.

“Now, I really didn’t want to do that…” Veto shook his head sadly before returning to his task. There was a grinding crack and a piece of glass fell down upon the statue, shattering as it did so. The statue promptly fell over, a small piece of it breaking off. “Oops.” Veto pulled on a pair of latex gloves and reached into the case. Carefully, he lifted the statue, shaking bits of glass from its surface. He studied the broken piece remaining in the case and shrugged. “They’ll never know…” he told himself, and stuffed the almost complete statue in his pocket.

Kneeling beside Abi, Veto quickly checked that her pulse was strong. “You’ll have a bit of a sore head when you wake up, but you’ll be fine, ” he said softly. Taking a business card from his pocket, he slipped it into her bag.

***

Back in the foyer, Veto grabbed one last glass of champagne as he waved cheerily to Professors Schneider and Johnson. He flirted briefly with a minor, but glamorous young soap actress before making his way through the throng, and out of the main entrance.

In a quiet alley, not far from the rear of the museum, Veto was enveloped in a soft, lurid green glow. When the glow faded, the alley was once again empty, save for a small Yorkshire Terrier which began to growl, bark, and jump up and down with extreme irritation.

***

Veto waltzed into what appeared to be a cross between an office, a bedsit, and the bridge of a flashy spaceship; which is what it was; except the spaceship in question wasn’t flashy at all; more like a wreck held together with sticky tape and industrial strength glue; which it was. Literally.

“How many casualties this time?” Ember Mound, barely looked up from filing her fingernails.

“None at all!” Veto stated proudly. “Well, no fatalities anyway.”

“Did you get it?” Ember didn’t even bother feigning interest.

“I did.” Veto pulled the small statue out of his tuxedo pocket with a flourish. “Ta-daa!”

With a bored sigh, she heaved herself from her slumped position, and thumped a keyboard with her fist. A screen flickered into life as she began to type laboriously with one finger. “I’ll get the invoice sent. Usual expenses?”

“I think so, yes. Oh, but remember to include the cost of a new tuxedo.”

“It wasn’t new, you pulled it off the back of a dead man,” Ember pointed out.

“Exactly, which is why I need a new one.”

Veto threw himself into an overstuffed armchair and admired the little statue. “A celebratory drink is in order, I think!” He grinned expectantly.

“Get it yourself.”

With a sigh, Veto slid out of his chair. As he did so, the statue slipped out of his hand. Making an heroic, yet desperate attempt to catch it, he merely succeeded in batting it faster and higher through the air. With a slow-motion effect, Veto watched as the statue hit the parquet floored deck and shattered into a thousand pieces.

The woman sighed deeply, and deleted the invoice.

As Veto settled back into his chair, an irritated beep sounded from beneath a pile of glossy magazines on the console. The woman swept them out of the way, and studied an incoming transmission.

“A Home Star has gone missing. Apparently the company who created it, ‘Home Star Industries’, want you to find it before their clients who commissioned it, find out…” She sounded mildly surprised.

Veto leapt up and rubbed his hands together. “Splendid! Start billing them from this very moment!”

***

Abi held her pounding head in her hands. Professor Schneider was in a state of shock as the theft of one of his prize exhibits finally sank in. Security mingled with the guests, trying to establish whether anyone or anything suspicious had been noticed that night. Unsurprisingly, no one could recall anything untoward.

In an attempt to safeguard both her husband’s blood pressure and her marriage, Abi had wisely decided to deny all knowledge of inadvertently aiding and abetting the strange man responsible for the outrage.

She rummaged in her bag in search of painkillers. Failing to find any, she did come across a business card that she swore had not been there before. The lurid orange business card was printed with blue calligraphic lettering which hurt the eyes if looked at for too long;

Veto Lark - Scavenger of the Stars

If you’ve lost it, I’ll find it!

*

Success Not Guaranteed

No Refunds

 On the back, was a single, hand written word in wild, loopy handwriting. It simply said, ‘Sorry!’ 

DH:LoF - Tales of Promethea

It's here! DH:LoF - Tales of Promethea was released yesterday and is available on DriveThru. Within the first 24 hours, I'm rather chuffed to say that it's sitting nicely in the No.6 spot of their fiction list.  Smashing!

This is what Cubicle 7 say about it.

Trailers - A Necessary Evil?

I don't normally rant here, but this is something that has been increasingly annoying me for quite a while now...

One of the highlights of going to the cinema is watching a selection of films coming soon to tempt us back into those hallowed halls of escapist fantasies.

However, what once used to be tempting teasers, snippets of the joys yet to come, have recently become little more than bullet points of every main scene of the entire film.

The first time this was brought to my attention, was several years ago while watching a film on TV, ‘Associate’, starring Whoopie Goldberg. As the plot progressed, the feeling that I’d seen it before increased, right down to the twist in the plot where the main female character eventually had to pose as a white male in order to convince the Wall Street Powers-That-Be to accept her financial genius, even though she was a mere female.

Although I’d never seen the film before, it was with disappointment that the story rolled to its somehow familiar conclusion.

The weird sense of déjà vu was explained by the fact that the entire film had been summarised in a cinematic trailer I had seen previously.

This left an unpleasant realisation that not only had I wasted an entire 90 minutes to see what could be considered a mere lengthened version of the trailer, but that at no point had the story kept me wondering what would happen. How could it when I had already seen the abridge version? 

Yes, the point of trailers is to pack all the good bits of a film in a nice neat package in order to make people want to pay their money to see it in it’s entirely, however, is it getting to the point when the trailers give most of the main plot away before the film has even opened?

The desperation to show all the ‘best bits’ of a given film before release is overshadowing the enjoyment of watching the plot unfold when the feature does eventually hit the big screens.

If most of the main shocks, plot twists or unexpected turns, not to mention the majority of the story, have already been revealed during a ten minute trailer, the urge to spend time and money on what can merely be regarded as ‘extra padding’, sadly fails to motivate.

Perhaps it is a sad reflection of diminishing concentration spans, or the ‘Need-to-Know-NOW’ culture that we must be shown a speeded up version to convince us how good the film is going to be.

Perhaps the film companies think potential audiences need to know what’s going to happen before they can be enticed to go and see a film, rather than take a chance on a film they know only a taste of. Perhaps, they are right.

Whatever the reasons, I find myself fast forwarding DVD trailers and deliberately avoiding cinematic attractions for the simple reason that I prefer not to know what’s going to happen in advance.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must flip to the end of the book I’m currently reading, because I just can’t be bothered going through the whole thing to find out how it ends… 

Rather Spiffing News

As the release date of  'Dark Harvest: Tales of Promethea' grows ever tantalisingly and tingly closer, some rather exciting news has just been revealed...

If you're of a 'certain' age group, and unashamedly geeky, (not me at all, obviously *cough*) it may be of interest that Ian Livingstone (remember those wonderful Fighting Fantasy books?) has only gone and written the bloomin' introduction!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm just going to have a nice cuppa and indulge in a considerable amount of Squeeeeing.

Anthologies Abound

One of my New Year’s Resolutions back in January, was to update my blog more often. Well, actually it wasn’t, I just made that up to sound less lazy than I am.

I got a bit of a shock the other day to discover September had crept up on me rather suddenly. I’m convinced this is really just somewhere around mid-March and the Gods of Time are just playing an hilarious prank on me.

So, what have I been doing all these non-existent months then, I hear you cry. *Ignores the tumbleweed bouncing past*

I have had the pleasant opportunity of doing a little contribution for the first supplement of the Dark Hark Harvest RPG, Dark Harvest:Resistance, published by Cubicle 7. As the core book has already proved, Dark Harvest is a credit to its creator Iain Lowson.

Having already won the Griffie award for Best Roleplaying Product, Dark Harvest continues to grow in popularity with several exciting upcoming projects on the horizon. Among this, is an Anthology of short fiction, all centred around the terrifying setting of Victor Frankenstein’s Promethea. I’m hugely excited to say that I’ve written one of the stories to be included, and am truly flattered to be included among a group of high calibre writers that have also contributed to this project.

At the moment, I’m working on an anthology of short stories with a vaguely dark theme. More details to come regarding this, however I can reveal the titles of several of the featuring stories; they include, ‘Terms & Conditions’, ‘What Laura Wants’, ‘Time of the Month’, and the title story, ‘The Demon in the Laundry Basket’. More updates soon!

The Griffies 2012

I am completely chuffed beyond all that is chuffworthy to say that Dark Harvest: Legacy of Frankenstein picked up the Griffie for best RPG in Edinburgh this weekend! Huzzah! Well deserved and hopefully the first of many!

March?

Wait. Where has January gone. And February, not to mention March? I want them back, you hear?! And that hour that was ungraciously stolen from me last weekend too. Just wrap them up in a nondescript brown paper bag, leave them on the doorstep and no more will be said on the matter.

So, what have I been doing these last few months then? Good question and if you know the answer, please tell me now. Thanks.

I vaguely remember doing a treatment, a scripty type thingy and a very fun DH:LoF meeting concerning the new Resistance supplement which will be available soon, way back at the beginning of January. And doing some mysterious bloggy type posts for *another blog*! Was also rather chufty about getting through to the 2nd round of the Red Planet Prize, which was delightfully unexpected. So, busy, yes. But still plenty time to be found for lazing in some unseasonally pleasant weather. (Must make the best of it, while it lasts!)

The Battlefield.
by: Dozeymagz

Beyond the Sofa...

It's not very often I venture out, unless I've run out of teabags or such other vital business. This weekend, however, saw me up at the hideous hour of 4:15am (Who would have thought such a time existed?) to wend my way to Glasgow for the Screenwriting, Networking and Pitching Workshop. I would like to say I jumped out of bed in a rush of refreshed energy, but that would be utter rubbish. I crawled, sobbing, like a poor broken zombie. Can't remember much of the train journey; I think I mostly dozed until Dundee o'clock.
The course itself, run by Phil Gladwin and Phil Shelley, was an intense, two day workshop which covered subjects such as story structure, generating ideas and a very novel exercise in character creation, through to marketing yourself and your work. It was full of interactive tasks which were both interesting and thought provoking, and covered so much practical information that can only come from years of experience working in the business. Of course, what course would be complete without a good chinwag in the bar afterward?
Guest speakers, Eric Coulter and Kate Croft, were fascinating and entertaining to listen to.
Unfortunately, I completely bombed at the pitching exercise and turned into a shaking, babbling physical wreck... Nevertheless, it was a truly excellent weekend and I had the pleasure of meeting a bunch of lovely and talented folk. Well worth dragging myself off the sofa for!

Holiday Blues

It's been over a week since returning from the lovely, sunny isle of Mallorca. (Well, mostly sunny, as long as you don't count the several days of cloud and rain; but we don't talk about those.) For the first time ever, I actually have an all-over-not-quite-so-pale-and-insipid-bit-of-colour. Not entirely 'all-over', I must make haste to point out, it wasn't a nudist holiday or anything. (The unfortunate incident on the beach that morning was purely accidental, I swear.)

So, now it's back to the scribbly stuff in earnest. I've had some good things though, since I got back. Got paid the final cheques for a screenplay and a treatment, that I thought would involve a whole lot more rewriting than I expected, which was a jolly nice relief.
Also, at the weekend, I found out that I'm a finalist in the EotP International Film Festival script writing competition, which was a really nice surprise. I'm going to see if I can make the journey down to the festival this year. Although it's quite a hike, I'm sure it'll be worth it. Tis a jolly good festival, so go and have a look!

Until then, I'm working on a very exciting Dark Harvest project which will hopefully keep me out of trouble for a while or so.

Liquid Lunch

There's a rather excellent and very funny online comedy show running at the moment. Written by the ever lovely and sickeningly talented Danny Stack, tis definitely worth catching up with! And if you don't - I shall take it upon myself to come round and slap you over the chops with a rather smelly wet fish. Yes - YOU! I know where you live!



You can also visit the main site over here.

Did I Really Write That?

One of the nicest things about finishing a particular script, is not only does it fill me with a sense of achievement and warm glowiness, (and gives me the excuse to run down to the corner shop and go wild in the wine section,) but it's the wonderful fact that I can just totally forget about it. And I mean, totally and utterly forget about it. It means I don't have to wake up at 5am fretting and trying to convince myself that I shouldn't even think about even attempting to write anything at all due my absolute rubbishness in all things scribbly.

So it usually comes as a rather pleasant, and highly surprising event if it gets placed or wins, (if it's a competition) because I really, truly, have completely thrown it out of my concious memory. It can be such a delightful shock to find that I've actually produced something solid rather that stare vacantly into space as most people tend to think I do all day.

They are of course, correct.

Mostly.

Onward

I sent off the first draft of the screenplay today - which of course means that I'll spend the next few weeks fretting about what the notes will say.
So, 'tis onto the next tasks which include writing up a second draft of a short film that's lurking around. Whether I get it done on time to put it in for what I plan to, is anyone's guess!
Also going to rewrite another little joint project, which so far is a lot of fun.
I've also have another treatment to write, so just waiting for the details of that job to come through. Busy, busy! Time to get a wiggle on I think!