Whatever this might look like it is not the principal cast of In The Gloaming reading some sort of script. No way. Nothing to see here…

First the anthology in which I have a story is running a competition. If you explain why I would be the ideal companion in the event of a zombie attack, you could win a prize. So, you could go and do that if you’ve got an extremely good imagination, or believe that an uncanny ability to fashion puns that refer to obscure sexual acts will be a skill that will come in handy when the undead rise from their graves and march upon their living to crack open their skulls and feast on the tasty innards.

Second, the big show at the Brighton Fringe Festival is tomorrow evening. If you haven’t already, I urge you to buy tickets now. Because if lots of people buy them then I can stop posting messages about the show on social networks and actually learn some skills which might come in useful in the event of a zombie-based apocalyptic event.

I could learn tae-kwon-do. I probably won’t, but I could. Or rifle shooting. Or how to fashion a shelter out of twigs and hedgehog turd. The newfound free time might just enable me to become the perfect companion in times of zombie attack.

Whatever. Think about it.

In September the In The Gloaming podcasts won the Parsec Award for Best New Podcaster. We jumped around like victorious loons for a few seconds, until we remembered that we hadn’t made a new episode since March.  And that we had no upcoming episodes in the pipelines.

To the outside observer In The Gloaming looked cold and dead, and only we knew there was still a flicker of humanity inside just waiting for the right time to blossom. It felt like being Nick Clegg.

There were lots of reasons that we hadn’t been able to do as many episodes as we’d hoped. People’s schedules clashed, they got work or didn’t get work at the wrong times, we weren’t getting as many downloads as we might have hoped (the episodes had been listened to about 6,500 times at that point). However, most of the reasons we weren’t able to churn them out on a monthly basis were self-inflicted, and could have been avoided with a little thought early on in the process.

So, here are my tips about what NOT to do, if you want to make an audio drama podcast of your own:

Don’t bother making audio trailers – One of the first groups of people to be interested in what we were doing was one comprised of people who were doing the same sort of thing. People like 19 Nocturne Boulevard orWormwood. And they often wanted to swap audio trailers, little snippets that could be stuck on the end of another show to spread the word. We never bothered to make these because we were too busy making the shows themselves, and thought they probably wouldn’t be worth the time in the number of new listeners they brought to us. We were wrong. There is a very small group of people used to listening to new audio dramas as podcasts. Get them involved from the beginning. Be generous with your time and effort with other podcast producers. Trying to forge the path completely on your own is hard and lonely. These are people who would like to advertise your podcast for free. Let them.

Be half an hour long - This was, in some ways, an intentional error. Part of the point of In The Gloaming was to prove that we could make half hour shows of radio quality. We wanted people’s response to be ‘This should be on the radio’, and to prove that it was ready to be. However, people often split up their listening to a podcast, catching a few minutes on their way into work, so broken shows work well. Narrative comedies that require unbroken attention (including any magnificent aural soundscapes you may create) ask a lot of the listener, and finding half an hour to listen to an episode (forgoing half an hour of television or proper radio or actual interaction with other humans) can be difficult. It suited our purposes, but it was far from ideal for in Internet show. If you’re planning on doing audio dramas or narrative comedies, why not think about ten- or fifteen-minute episodes? They will be easier for people to find the time to listen to.

Don’t have a business plan - This isn’t quite true. We had a plan, it just wasn’t a hugely good one. It was (as I outlined above) Get Picked Up By TheBBC. When that didn’t materialise the next obvious option was to look for a sponsor. However, those things we’d designed to make it more like a radio show made it less effective on The Internet, and so we didn’t have the subscriber numbers we needed to get a sponsor. We had a little income from the tip jar – enough to cover the podcast hosting – and we had a merchandising site, but nothing people wanted to buy on it. There were successful revenue streams: live shows, signed scripts, etc. However, by the time we had worked out how to fund the shows, we had stalled on producing them for long enough that the momentum was gone. The lesson here is: at least have an idea how you’re going to make enough money to cover your costs, and always implement your business plan quickly. You may well have a number of people willing to support you financially, so give them a way in which they can. Speaking of which:

Fail to make the things people want to buy - In our case: CDs. We’ve had lots of requests for CDs. People want to give them as gifts, people who aren’t au fait with downloading, people who want to show their support. There has been constant demand for CDs of the episodes. I did try to get this set up at one point, using Lulu, but found that they made all their CDs in the US, and then shipped them to England making them hugely expensive (even though we were only charging $4.00 each for them). I then wanted to add some audio liner notes to each one, a little extra that wasn’t available on the website, but never got around to recording them. The fact that there was no UK service that would do what we wanted and that I couldn’t be bothered to fulfil orders myself meant that we missed out on the one revenue stream that seemed promising.

Underestimate the amount of time it will take - Each In The Gloaming took a few days to write, a day to record, and two or three days to edit. That’s at least a full work week out of every month. When you’ve got children (or, you know, a job) that’s just not feasible. Perhaps we’ll do them quarterly in future, but monthly doesn’t seem like we can do it at all.

Post irregularly - We started with a monthly schedule, but soon got bogged down with diary incompatibilities, and just the sheer amount of work it was. The fact that we couldn’t be relied upon to produce podcasts every month meant that a lot of the momentum we started with dissipated. Set yourself a schedule and stick to it. Don’t stick to two-thirds of it. Stick to it, no matter how difficult it is. Then sit back, learn lessons, and plan Season 2.

Don’t collect emails – We never had an email list or any promotion beyond writing a blog. This is silly. Do better than us.

Don’t allow embedding - It took us six months to find a service that allowed easy embedding and sharing of mp3s on Twitter and Facebook. We went for a paid service that was not as good as what we could have got from WordPress, and didn’t offer the stats or functionality. We’re now faced with the rubbish options of continuing to use a (paid) service that isn’t as good as other ones or to change the website RSS feed, and risk losing all of the subscribers who are attached to the old feed. Do your research about how you’re going to distribute your podcast before you set up a standing order…

Basic, fundamental errors. Tonnes of them. We couldn’t have been more dim if we’d just dribbled into the Internet whilst smashing ourselves in the face with a flat-iron.

However, we’ve had more than 100 downloads a week, every week, for more than a year. We were asked to perform at the World Horror Convention 2010. It’s led to other bits of work, and to the selling of some of the short stories written for the site. The live show is getting a full run in the Brighton Festival next year (Friday 13th May, for those who want to book tickets). We’ve won awards. And we’ve got a producer attached, who’s making an In The Gloaming feature film, which should be out next year.

That’s how not to do it. Go and do better…

Image via Wikipedia

We won the Parsec award for Best New Speculative Fiction Podcaster! Big thank yous to the people who worked so hard organising the awards, to all of the cast and crew who gave their time and talents so freely, and, most of all, to those of you who download the podcasts.

I’m doing actual human cheek-blushes…

IF YOU like your comedy as dark and bitter as the purest black chocolate then In The Gloaming will be just to your taste.

For there are no taboos in this Gothic-horror style hour of comedy at the Arundel Jailhouse – and TV’s Tales of the Unexpected seem tame in comparison.

The one-man show at the Arundel Festival, written and performed by the genius that is Nathaniel Tapley, is rich with black humour – but so strong that many maiden aunts, and even some who are a little worldly wise, might find themselves shocked into an early grave.
It’s not for the faint-hearted.

Death is a recurring theme as Mr Tapley relives some of his finest monthly podcasts which have won a cult following on the internet and beyond.

But religion, politics, murder, and perversion of all types have the spotlight shone upon them as Mr Tapley recalls ghosts of the past to narrate their shocking tales.

Mr Tapley is an extraordinarily skilled actor and polished writer with a gimlet wit – but unlike many comedians there is nothing reassuringly safe about his material.

Michael McIntyre he is not.”

That’s what you’re missing, those of you who have not already come. Tickets are still available for Friday’s performance, which is at 7pm in the Arundel Jailhouse. Tickets cost £6.

In other news, the script for the next podcast is being polished, and as soon as we have all of our performers back from the gaping maw of Edinburgh, we shall go into the studio to record our next episode. Apologies to all for the wait, but we hope you’ll really think it’s worth it.

We’re also finalists for the Parsec Awards in the two categories in which we were nominated, and shall be making an extra special announcement in the next week or so that should really send a chill up your spine…

Thank you all for your support, and sweet, sweet screams…

Tickets cost £6, and the show starts at 7:00pm. It’s all new In The Gloaming material, and it would be lovely to see you all there. The Arundel Jailhouse is a set of haunted dungeons that used to house the town’s gaol. To book the tickets, or find out more about the Arundel Jailhouse, Ghost Experience and Festival, please click here.

In terms of setup, it’s one of the more sparse that we’ve looked at in this series. Two people get stuck in a lift. That’s it. It does, however, what all good horror should do, in that it takes an awful situation, and makes you feel the reality of it right down to your marrow. This isn’t two people stuck in a lift. This is you stuck in a lift.

The horror is ratcheted up with expert precision. As days pass without help appearing, Fowler takes us on gut-wrenching journey through hope, disgust, and despair. All in the space of a few thousand words.

As well as a trip through a horrible situation, the story also contains meditations on loneliness, the isolations of urban living, and love. It ends with a moment that comes like a kick to the abdomen, and one I hadn’t anticipated at all. It will leave you drained, spent, probably not in the mood for any more short stories for a little while… Until you read it back, knowing what you do at the end.

‘The Eleventh Day’ is a terrible, awful, wicked story, but it is also a desperately romantic one. Along with the cynicism and weariness of the modern world is a hope, a belief in true love, and a wonder at humanity (although no faith in it). It’s a wonderful story, and another to add to my collection of ones I would love to adapt for In The Gloaming.

With his story ‘The Stretch’ being one of the highlights of the BFS Yearbook, Christopher Fowler has given us two great stories in the last year. ‘The Eleventh Day’ can be found in Black Static #14, a back issue that can be ordered from their website. Black Static is a great magazine: do consider taking out a subscription, the fiction is almost uniformly excellent (and the same is true of its sister science-fiction magazine, Interzone).

If you do buy issue #14, you’ll find the first-ever mention of In The Gloaming in print, as we got a namecheck in the ‘White Noise’ news section of the magazine.

(Christopher Fowler’s blog is also well-worth reading. Add it to your RSS feeds now…)

Some of you may have realised that’s it’s been two months since our last episode, and there hasn’t been a sniff of a new one.

So, here’s what’s going on. The next episode ‘Long Lamkin’ is waiting to be made, but we’re not going to make it just yet. There are a couple of reasons for this:

1) We’ve been waiting to hear back from some exciting guest stars. At present, we don’t have enough subscribers. We don’t have enough subscribers to let us find a sponsor, so one of the ways in which we will try to get more people’s attention and attract new subscribers is by having slightly bigger names involved in the podcasts.

2) I’d like to start paying people for their time. All of the actors give up their time, Raoul gives us both his time and his studio. I’m very proud of the quality of the podcasts we’ve been able to make so far, but am really aware that asking people to give their time and talent for free forever isn’t going to work.

It takes about 160-170 person-hours to make an episode, from script through to the final edit. If we want to give In The Gloaming a secure, long-term future, that’s what I have to find a way to fund.

I’ve got a number of ideas as to how we can give people something for their time, cover their travel costs, show how much we value them (none of which involve charging for the podcasts – I’m adamant that they should remain free), but all of them will require a little administration, so please bear with us if they take a little time to set up.

So, here’s what you can do to hurry ‘Long Lamkin’ along. One of our biggest problems is simply that our reach isn’t as far as it should be. In the month of May we had about 2,300 subscribers, which is good – but not good enough.

We’ll start making the next episode as soon as the following happens: I hear back from any of our guest stars (nothing you can do about that); OR we hit 3,000 subscribers; OR we’re able to self-fund the next episode (when I’ve arranged ways for us to do that).

So, the big thing I can do for now is to work on ways we can fund In The Gloaming (I need to get the CDs up for sale, for instance, or start auctioning off any review copies of books I get sent for the Gloaming Reviews, etc).

The big thing you can do is to get all of your friends to listen. Burn them to CDs, copy them onto USB sticks, play them at state funerals and sports grounds, do whatever you can to get people to subscribe. Hitting 3,000 is well within our reach, and with your help we can get there. As soon as the counter ticks over 3,000 I’ll hustle people into the studio for another half-hour of horrory filth.

Sorry you haven’t had it yet, but I thought I should be up front about the reasons for our having been a little tardy, and be honest about the ways in which you can help, if you’re so minded.

Thanks again, and we look forward to gloaming for you very soon…

(Oh – and there’s an ultra-exciting thing I want to tell you all but can’t yet. It’s humongous. It’s amazing news. You’re going to freak… Sweet screams…)

They thought Richard Herring was better. And Andy Zaltzman. And a podcast about Hackney. Not that we’re in the slightest bitterly plotting their downfall. Oh no…

On the 21st, 22nd, 23rd, 24th, and 27th August, we’re going to be performing in the infamous Ghost Experience at Arundel Festival. This will be a unique opportunity to see the In The Gloaming cast up close and personal, performing a mix of new and old material in a ghastly venue. Not to be missed…

I should probably also mention that I had the pleasure of meeting some of the authors involved, and the publisher, at the World Horror Convention. I liked them. They’re nice people. Again, this perhaps puts me in the realms of the hideously corrupt, drawn by my twisted morals into a twilight world where values like truth, honesty, and virtue have lost all meaning. It may well make me a fundamentally lost scrap of 21st-century flotsam, adrift in a relativist ocean of competing philosophies, the only connection between which is their ability to satisfy my selfish desires. I am a human ring-tone.

Still. I liked the book.

The Introduction, from Mark Morris, gives a helpful overview not just of the book itself, but also of the state of the industry. It whets our appetite for what we are about to read, and reminds us why it is important. I was feeling mightily aggrieved and vengeful by the end of it, always the sign of a good Introduction.

The stories are from Paul Finch, Stuart Young, Gary McMahon, Mark West, and Simon Bestwick. They are almost-uniformly excellent: well-written, chilling, and utterly, utterly depressing.

The collection as a whole feels, in the best possible way, grim. No one gets out of it alive. Or at least, if they do, they’re bleeding heavily. The horrors range from the exceedingly visceral to the nebulous and haunting.  Despite the range of imagery, however, there is a certain unity to the feel of the stories. They all seem steeped in grief, or despair, and are truly heart-rending in places.

It’s a book, sodden with grey pizzle, that will come into your house, and drip sullenly on your doormat. It will give you a baleful look, shove past you into your kitchen and start to make a cup of tea in a chipped Royal Wedding mug. Not one of the good ones, either. Andrew and Fergie, probably…

Only one of the stories didn’t really work for me, and I suspect that that one would have, had I encountered it in a different anthology. It is one that’s slightly thematically out of place, and whilst it fizzes and pops with ideas and vitality, it seems to be an uncomfortable bedfellow for the rest of the stories in the book.

This, then, is an excellent anthology. It’s a dreadful romp through the back-corners of the mind from some of the most exciting British writers in the field today. Ah yes, British… That much is unmistakable.

It’s redolent of Britain in all the right ways: its despair at the modern world; its grief for a better past; its tawdry, rain-filled heartbreaks. This is British horror, and a great book, from an exciting small press.

We Fade To Grey is available from Pendragon Press, priced £7.99.