Welcome to Reverend Wayne Austin Goodchild's official blog. Not that there's an unofficial one...

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Wednesday, 25 August 2010


My story, "DOCTOR DOLITTLE HE AIN'T" has been accepted for Fearology 2, set to be published by Library of Horror! I'm surprised because I thought it was simply too absurd but shows what I know ;)

It follows a man named Middleton as he ends up in a desert diner during a ferocious storm. Turns out he's been on the run for a couple of months...from NATURE! The story makes completely mental use of such creatures as a komodo dragon and a colossal squid as Nature it/herself hunts Middleton down for something terrible he's done to it/her. Oooohh yyeeeaaahhhh!

And as an amendment:

Fearology 2 : Beware All Animals Great And Small TOC

Running With The Pack - D. K. Latta

Cat Food - Joleen Kuyper

Walk ‘Em Up - Gef Fox

The Monkey’s Sandwich - Craig Saunders

Horseman - Renee Carter Hall

Alien Registration - James Peak

Revenge On Apex Mountain - Michael Hodges

What Doesn’t Kill - K. A. Dean

Roaches - Amanda Northrup Mays

Goats Do Roam - Christopher King

Mahishasura - Richard Marsden

A Murder Of Crows - Henry Snider

Sons Of Gula - R. M. Ridley

Canis Finalis - Aaron Legler

Feeding Oscar - Donald Jacob Uitvlugt

Night Of The Widow - Alex J. Kane

Smells Like Neurosis - Kent Alyn

Peek-A-Boo - Eric Dimbleby

Beastial - Martin Rose

Infestation - Tom Harold

On The Banks Of The Royal Marsh - Daniel Powell

Doctor Dolittle He Ain’t - Wayne Goodchild

The Tora Bora Horror - Gregory L. Norris

Tuesday, 24 August 2010



It's due for release at the start of September! Let me just say I'm very impressed by the speed at which Pill Hill Press get things done - they don't dick about!

Sunday, 22 August 2010


The TOC for BLOODY CARNIVAL has been revealed on the PILL HILL PRESS forum and here it is:

Nightmare at 200 Feet by Darin Kennedy

The In-Between World by Lee Pletzers

The Key to the Midway by Chris Deal

A Real Scream by Matt Kurtz

Finger Food by Eden Royce

Going Bananas by Rob Rosen

Swing Me by Bruce Harris

Cirque Misérable by Mindy MacKay

Not Allowed by Stephanie Kincaid

Under the Big Top by David Greske

Castle Death by Stephanie L. Morrell

Sorcerer's Carnival by A.R. Norris

The Tomahawk Chop by Tony Schaab

The Fiend of the Sixth Dimension by Marianne Halbert

Canto Carnascialesco by Carnell

The Fairground Attraction by Frank Roger

Madcap Moon by Scott Taylor

House of Mirrors by Sylvia Spruck Wrigley

The Popcorn Challenge by Scott Cole

Carnival of Shadows by Nicole Zoltack

The Ghost Train by Jack Horne

The Moveable Feast Comes to Hanger Hill by T.L. Perry

Carnival of the Damned by Shawn Cook

Ticket Stub by Jennifer Chambers

One Wild Ride by Jessica A. Weiss

Freak Show by Cherie Reich

Beauty is Skin Deep by Lorraine Horrell

Tears of a Clown by Matthew S. Dent

2:51, Behind the Caterpillar by Gregory L. Norris

The Brownfarm Awfulness by Murphy Edwards

Ghostface and the Last Ride of Boots Gurney by Kent Alyn

The Really Big Prize by Robert Essig

The Last Show by Darren W. Pearce & Neal Levin

This Circus, These Roots by Wayne Goodchild


There I am, at the end! Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I'm TOC buddies with a few people I believe I've been TOC buddies with before: Robert Essig, Lee Pletzers and Stephanie Kincaid! Top banana! I'll post the cover art soon, but first I really must do my weekly shopping. Yeah it's not all champagne parties and staying up til 2am in my world, pal.

Saturday, 21 August 2010


Never have six words carried such weight as when they're uttered by former-arse-kicker-turned-repentant-puritan SOLOMON KANE. In the opening ten minutes of the film we're shown how utterly merciless he is, and told all we need to know when he boldly proclaims "I am the only devil here!"...but after a confrontation with a demonic entity puts him in his place and he finds out that not only does God not have his back, as he thought, but his soul is damned...then, well, he throws himself out a window and shacks up with some monks.

I mean, who wouldn't? If a blank-faced, satanic-voiced guy tried to stab me with a flaming sword I'd probably do the same thing. Okay, so maybe not the 'monk' part. Or the window bit, actually. I'd more than likely just get shishkebabed. Hmm.

After this wake-up call, Kane (created by Robert E. Howard and played convincingly by James Purefoy) covers his body in holy symbols and tries to hide from evil's beady eyes, and everything's pretty groovy for about a year. Then, the head monk tells Kane "I had a dream, and basically, God told me to kick you out". And so our new Man of Peace(tm) hits the road, trying to figure out if and how he can absolve his sins and rescue his soul from the Devil's grabby little hands.

But what's this? Oh no! Bandits! And because Kane doesn't fight any more, they beat him up. See what sticking to your principles does for you, kids? Anyway, Pete Postlethwaite and his family find Kane and nurse him back to
health, and Kane decides to stick with them, at least until something really interesting happens.

Luckily for us, they stumble upon a pile of smoking ruins - turns out a witch was burned at the stake but she got free and fried everybody's eyes before they even made her 'medium rare'. Cue an encounter with said witch and the marking of Pete's daughter, Meredith. Look out guys, she's been touched by evil! But all it means is the marauding army (led by Leatherface from the Texas Chain Saw Massacre) are after her specifically. Why? I'll tell you in a minute!

SOLOMON KANE succeeds for two reasons, mainly. The first is that the script isn't afraid to do things you wouldn't think it'd do. The second is that you completely believe Solomon Kane is capable of taking on unfavourable odds all by himself. When he tries to defuse a tense situation by emphatically stating "I am a man of peace" all this plea does is get a bunch of people killed, all because he won't physically fight to save them. Suffice to say, these unfair deaths put him firmly back in an arse-kicking mindset and off he goes to rescue Meredith from the evil army, killing any
one (and anything) that stands in his way.

I told a bit of a fib up there ^ because I'm not going to tell you what's so special about Meredith, only that I'm pretty sure the baddies could have found someone like her pretty easily without incurring the wrath of Solomon Kane. But then there'd be no real reason for Kane to get all stabby and the film wouldn't be very interesting now would it?

Along the way on his miniature holy crusade Kane stabs, chops, slices and, er, stabs a lot of things. I imagine he would be a wiz in the kitchen. The film is rather brutal and bloody in places (what else would you expect from the author who also created Conan?), and we even get to see a few crucifixions. This leads up to a "rebirth" of Kane that clearly references Christ's own resurrection. Or does it? Yes, of course it does. SOLOMON KANE is overflowing with religious talk and iconography (there has to be, like, a hundred shots of burnt-out churches in the film) but you're not smacked around the head with it. Kane lives in a world filled with witchcraft and devout belief, so all the religious stuff makes sense in context and never feels preachy or ham-fisted. Not even when Mackenzie Crook turns up as a dodgy priest with an even dodgier "flock"...

SOLOMON KANE is the first film I've seen in ages where I wished it lasted longer. All the suspense scenes actually generate tension (re: the "flock" bit) and when Kane literally cuts loose and lays waste to the bad guys it puts a bloody great big grin on my face because it is so damn COOL. Plus, we get a cool demon at the end who, granted, doesn't really do much but the point is it is used, when so many other films would have it maybe break free a little bit then get stopped/prevented or not break free at all.

Sure, Meredith's "specialness" is a load of balls, and Jason Fleming (who I think is GREAT) makes for a less-than menacing main villain, but you get James Purefoy in a black cloak and wide-brimmed hat, which is a look that ANYONE can rock (re: Vampire Hunter D as another prime example), plenty of gore and some nifty monsters. They're supposed to making a trilogy of Solomon Kane films, and I hope this still happens. SOLOMON KANE might not have any real loose ends and in fact doesn't seem to suggest it warrants a follow-up (let alone two) but if it means we get to see James Purefoy dressed like a cool dude getting all stabby with some evil shits then I'm all for it.

"Here I am being all cool and moody in the rain, but it gave me a terrible cold and now I'm all snotty"
- Solomon Kane, yesterday.

Wednesday, 18 August 2010


I cry when I cut up an onion.

Thank you, thank you. I'm here all week - try the fish!

Monday, 16 August 2010


As I was saying to a friend of mine yesterday, two years ago, even a year ago, I would never have thought I'd actually be involved in the publishing industry. I'm hardly Mr BigWig but every step's a progression towards a goal, or something like that anyway. And with this exciting new territory comes unexpected hurdles, such as contractual obligations (I'm sure 'obligments' is a word but Google Chrome spell-checker doesn't seem to think so), professional etiquette and things like that. It's all rather exciting though, even if there's the fear that what works for one person may not work for another, thereby souring the deal. I also tend to be pretty friendly via email (or as friendly as text can insinuate, without have to resort to littering correspondence with shitloads of smilies) but I'm also not afraid to be quite blunt, so I need to find a happy medium between the two, if such a thing is possible. Because as with any business, you become the face of it if you're dealing with customers, so you need to be as polite and courteous as possible (I think) whilst maintaining any standards or beliefs associated with that business. It's a tough balancing act, one that often precipitates a steep learning curve on the way to some blue sky thinking, in order to shift a lot of units. Indeed, in this hectic world there's no time to correctly format a block of text or waste time doin rporer spelchecks on something because we're all so busy trying to be professional and *KKRSSZZRTT*

Whoops, accidentally slipped into Office Worker Mentality there for a moment. There is no need to act like some self-obsessed twat when being nice and polite is just as effective, thank you very much. Let's all be nice to each other, without worrying about targets and deadlines for once. Seesh!

Which reminds me, I watched THE CHILDREN last night. That contains a self-obsessed twat as a main character, and a cool uncle. Cool uncle gets it first. He was the only character I actually cared about because he felt the most believable/real, so well done for getting rid of him and leaving us with a bunch of middle class idiots who spend 97% of their time shrieking. THE CHILDREN has to be one of the most hysterical films I've ever seen (as in overwrought, not funny).

Thankfully, it had decidedly glacial cinematography and pretty decent direction to stop it being annoying. Although the editing didn't help. Boy, did I got distracted/put off a few times whilst watching it, no thanks to weird pacing and inclusion of random violent inserts that may or may not have supposed to have been the inner workings of the kid's brains (the children in the film catch some sort of virus that turns them into killers). This might have been more evident if it had happened in more than just one scene, or better yet, not at all.

Ultimately, I didn't care about anyone in the film, which makes it difficult to pay attention. Not that my attention wandered off, I just hoped the idiots left would be killed off quickly so something worthwhile could happen. There are a couple of excellent kills/gags in THE CHILDREN, mind you, but I won't give them away here. Let's just say someone might not be quite as dead as you think, and that an infamous scene from a Fulci zombie film (I'm pretty sure it's one of his I'm thinking about) gets just about topped by a bit in this one, via a similar kill method.

And if those do count as spoilers, sue me for breach of contract why don'tcha? Oh wait, you don't have one! Ahh sucked in!

Saturday, 14 August 2010


Yesterday's post was somewhat uncharacteristically moody (and lengthy) so to set the balance right, why don't you celebrate my birthday (yes, it's today! 31!!! wwoooo) by BUYING ONE OF MY BOOKS?! Well, books I'm in, not by me solely. BACK TO THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE is now listed on my author page on Amazon, but y'know, any of them would make ideal presents to buy. Not for me. I've already got them. I mean, the fact you've bought something I've done is enough. Yeah it is.

Friday, 13 August 2010


I'm blessed with a sunny disposition but the one thing that's guaranteed to put me in a funk is the fact I don't have a band. I've pretty much being living music ever since college, and spent almost a year without a band when I first moved to uni. Then one day, upon walking into a record store, I noticed a massive board covered in 'musicians wanted' type posters. I looked through a few, and one caught my eye in particular. It said "I play my bass with a screwdriver". I was sold. I called the guy and left a message, ended up meeting him to talk about music, met the only other guy who'd responded, and pretty soon after that we started jamming and made the sort of music that is utterly impossible to categorize.

The screwdriver bassist was called Paul (well IS called Paul- he's not dead or anything) and was/is a full-on hippy. We picked up more members, more steam, and became known as Fanatics of Xerox. Rather depressingly, if you put that into Google you only get a couple of mentions of us, and one of those is via the band FOX became once Paul went to India for a bit. Although the other is a link to buy one of our CDs from Rough Trade, which is pretty cool/bemusing.

FOX became Pan Pipes from the Grave, and you can hear our rather strange music HERE.

Pan Pipes from the Grave mutated into Black Jack Ketchum, and we only really stopped because I had to leave Nottingham. We were looking at getting going again when I moved back to Notts, but a little while ago split up with my girlfriend, who played keyboards, which both put a bit of a kibosh on the band and moving back to Notts (since I was going to live with her)...

Thing is, I can live without doing Black Jack Ketchum again, because it wouldn't be quite the same, but two things get me feeling all Blue Funk (the world's grumpiest superhero):

I don't feel complete without a band, as (live) music's been such a large part of my life for so long it now feels kinda empty without it...

...and the other thing is, that second chap who replied to the 'screwdriver' ad was a chap called Andy, who I did FOX, PP and BJK with, and is a really good chum. He's also coming to visit me tomorrow for my birthday, which is cool. But he's that sort of person who works with me, musically, like we're two pieces of the world's smallest jigsaw puzzle. Where, we can just plug in our instruments and go for broke, feeding off each other almost telepathically.

It doesn't happen very often, that sort of thing. I think it helps, playing in bands together for years, but it's one of the main reasons I'm trying not to resign myself to the fact that the chances of finding someone like that in Scunthorpe are pretty slim, if not impossible. Not even my existing musician friends are into the same music as me (though we do have some overlap with a few bands).

Plus, despite some of my friends hearing/seeing the aforementioned bands, they still don't treat me seriously as a musician. "Oh yeah Wayne makes noise ha ha ha", that sort of thing. "Your music's mental!" is another one. I don't know any proper chords, I can't read music past a basic level, and I have next to no knowledge of musical theory, because I've never needed those things. People go "Oh well, you need to know the rules if you're going to break them". What? No you don't! You do if you want to break them 'properly', the idea of which is an absolute joke. "I'm playing this in a so-and-so scale because this genre of music typically uses a this-and-this scale". Why not just go nuts and see what happens? Have a bit of fun for crying out loud. It makes me really bloody angry that I'm being shackled by bloody close-mindedness.

Arrghh this is both pretty angry and depressing. I occasionally write music on my own, which obviously I can do whenever I want, but I thrive on live shows, playing to the audience, having a laugh and going crazy. Thinking back to what it "used to be like" is quite upsetting because there's that underlying hint of "that sort of thing may never happen again". I may never again play a gig where a fan asks me to swap t-shirts with him, or get threatened to be beaten up because my music was "offensive" (in a musical sense, not a controversial/racist/etc way). Or scream so loud and hard that my gums bleed. Or climb on speakers and almost destroy the stage. Or sit cross-legged on a floor and play the same riff for ten minutes with my eyes closed. Or get a bit of funny banter going between the band and the audience. Or stunning a crowd into silence by being so loud they simply have no choice but to shut up. Or get people coming up to me with wide eyes and big grins on their faces, going "we have never, ever, heard or seen anything like that before in our entire lives". And so on.

Maybe it's impossible to "have everything". Maybe I'm being greedy by wanting to have the one last, final thing in my life that would make me truly happy. If there's an international pool of metaphysical 'good stuff' we all share, maybe my being in a band again takes some 'good stuff' from that pool, leaving less for some kid like me, ten years younger, who'll then never get the chance to have loads of crazy gigs and ace memories.

And if this were true, what does it say about me as person if I go "I don't care"...?

Wednesday, 11 August 2010


Contains my story OF DIRT AND DUST, which is set in the Dust Bowl in the 1930's. No zombies in this one ;)

And look! My name's on the back cover :D

Thursday, 5 August 2010


Yeah, so, basically, a story I've been trying to find a home for, for ages, has, well...found a home!

It was called GREASE PAINT AND MONKEY BRAINS but is now known as THIS CIRCUS; THESE ROOTS and features a very peculiar circus as it arrives in a small English town and promptly causes its destruction.

Here's the poster that actually appears in the story! -->

For a bigger version, CLICK HERE!

Monday, 2 August 2010


Make a posh man say swear words

hahahahahha oh dear this'll really help give me a professional image, posting shit like this hahahahah

Sunday, 1 August 2010


I went paintballing yesterday and was quite unprepared for how knackering it would be. This morning, I can hardly use my legs. WAAAAA!!!!

I'm going to continue working on a few stories today to sub to various anthos:

One about a man who's sort-of being hunted by various animals because Nature literally hates him - this is for THIS SUB CALL.

One about a kid who gets possessed by a comic book. Sort-of. That's for THIS.

And a more complex piece (I hope) that isn't for any particular sub call, but is something I had a big idea about anyway, about a couple who end up stuck in a small English village as the locals are hunting...something. It's not too dissimilar to The Devil's Backbone for one of the themes, though the main one is about trust and emotional stability, with another layer about who the real bad guys are, that sort of thing. How mysterious!