Sunday, September 18, 2005

leaving soon...

I leave on tour in a few hours. Doing all those last minute packing things -- wishing I wasn't doing the whole of America and much of Canada at this particular time of year for the next three weeks, as I have to pack for everything from Indian Summer to Early Winter.

Just updating the iPod right now, and trying to print out the stuff for my reading tomorrow. (There. It printed.)

It's going to be a long tour, and I miss Maddy already and I haven't gone yet.

Neil,This is more of a cry then a question...I bought a copy of "a really useful book" and sadly, the pen is a broken little thingie. I cannot SEE any of the hidden text or even write my own secret words. I wonder if others have complained about the nasty little broken pen. is a question, is it a black light activated notebook thing so I could buy one and see the hidden texts? sigh....I know this is not a earth shattering or deep, inner question....I am just a sad girl who cannot hide my secrets with the magic book you promised....

Dave McKean had the same complaint, and he wasn't the only one. I've been told that replacing the batteries in the pen normally fixes the problem -- the pens have somehow run down while waiting, and they do ship with a bunch of little replacement batteries.

But the people who seem happiest are the ones who've gone out and found black-light flashlights for themselves that work much better than the one the book came with.

Hello Mr. Gaiman, I have a question about your signing events. Seeing as how you like to sign for as many people as possible, when you get a request to write something unusual, do you prefer if the person gives you an explanation, or just telling you what exactly to write, so that you can move onto the next person? I ask this because I am planning to be at one of your signings to get a book signed for someone else to get a specific statement written.Thanks,Candido
It depends. If someone says, for example, "Can you write Congratulations Willoughby on Your 21st Birthday" I will, happily. If someone says "Can you write To The Only One That Trevor Has Ever Actually Loved and He Wishes That He Hadn't Put That Ice Cream Down The Back Of Your Blouse, And In Fact In Another Dimension You Are Already Soulmates Please For God's Sake Give Him A Second Chance And He Promises This Time He Won't Mention His Kidneys and then put your favourite quote from Shakespeare after that..." or worse, tries to explain at length why they need a lengthy thing they've written copied down by me, my answer will probably have to be Sorry. Unless the line's really short, but it probably won't be.


And now, I am handing over the rest of this post to Miss Hayley Campbell -- daughter of my friend Eddie Campbell, my friend in her own right, and dedicatee of THE DAY I SWAPPED MY DAD FOR TWO GOLDFISH.

Last seen in this blog in, Eddie Campbell's brilliant new book will be called The Fate of the Artist. The Fate of the Artist is a hilarious dip into Campbell Family Life, and also a murder mystery.

You can read an interview with Eddie at, which includes a graphic novel manifesto.

Or you could just read this...

Hello Neil,

You might remember that there was a bit in Dad's new book about his
household inventions; such as the 'door spoon' that hung from the doorknob
in lieu of a key which was used to lever open the pantry door, the 'fridge
towel' for soaking up water that the faulty fridge leaked all over the floor
and so on. Brisbane is being buffeted by wild winds at the moment -- houses
are being blown over a few suburbs away, electricity poles are packing it in
and people are complaining that their Foxtel has been cut off blah blah
blah. Our front gates keep swinging open and Mum doesn't like it. She asked
Dad to 'do something about it', giving him license to be creative. So he
did, and he was.

He went to the ragbag in the pantry and found a scrabby, that is, an old
discarded bleach-stained pair of underpants (Mum's, of course), and attached
it to the front gate in such a way that the tops of the pickets were poking
through the leg holes and the crotch was wedged in between the two gates,
holding the flapping doors in place with the stretched elastic of the
waistband. And he left it there overnight.

Mum discovered this brilliant invention in the morning looking a little
worse for wear, the crotch had come loose and was fluttering like a flag in
the wind. She removed it immediately.


So now the gates are swinging in the wind and Mum just goes downstairs every
now and then to close them.

I thought it was too amusing to keep to myself.

Love Hayley