“That would be Mr Curran’s head exploding…”

Ever seen that film Scanners? That deliciously gory movie by David Cronenberg about pyrotechnic telepaths? There’s a wonderful scene at the beginning where some poor bugger’s head simply blows apart – and I was watching this yesterday thinking “mmm, I feel like that…”

This ill-advised empathy could be down to the unwarranted hangover from the night before (where my pals and I sat in glorious sunshine with 2000 other Sheffield-ers in the Botanical gardens, supping wine and listening to jazz), but more probable it came from the belief that responsibilities are towering over me like some “Wagnerian” mountain of chaos.

On the horizon is my first public appearance since being on the radio way back in May. I’ll be giving a talk at the Bakewell Arts Festival on 7th August, 7:45pm (click here) – and there’ll be a heavy emphasis on the whole Macmillan New Writing experience i.e. the process of being published and the advantages of MNW over the agent/publisher system. I’ll be questioned on The Secret War, and I might even do a reading from Soldiers of Fire, though we’ll have to see how “finished” the book is at that point. I’ll also be signing copies of The Secret War, so as one person asked me recently, if you really want “a signed copy to sell on e-bay for 50 quid”, you should come along.
Anyway, the event is taking some time to set up – I’m producing some publicity gumph for the event (I don’t have to, but I enjoy doing that sort of thing). The format of the evening will be an informal interview, followed by an audience Q&A and then the signing. It should be great fun, so if you’re around during the 7th, pop in (it’s free admission, you know, and is followed by a BAF unplugged session…)

The second thing on the horizon is a little bit more chaotic and labour intensive. We’re moving house, and fuck me, do we have a lot of crap to shift…
I’ve never realised how many books and DVDs I have until now. The boxes are just mounting and mounting and mounting. I’ve filled an entire room with boxes, which I can’t understand. I mean, if the room is now filled with books and DVDs to the point you can’t see the floor, where the hell were they stored in the first place? It’s like some strange world where books and DVDs just self-populate. Either that or someone is breaking into our flat periodically to give us their own books and films. Maybe they think we’re Oxfam or something.
This apart, we’re now faced with that horrible few weeks of packing and organising, and cleaning – because we’re renting, and when you rent you clean the place after you (or you lose your bond). If I once believed I had spare time in the evenings, I don’t now…

…But like the Bakewell Arts talk, I’m not complaining really. The place we’re moving to is amazing. A house on the side of a hill looking out across the Peak District. Once we’re in, I’ll have to post a photo of the view – it’s idyllic. And it will be a perfect place to write The Isles of Sheffield in November.

So apart from the upheaval – and apart from a day-job which is becoming increasingly demanding as well – there’s also the minor matter of completing Soldiers of Fire by 24th August.

Yeah right, a minor matter.

Sheesh. Okay, well this is a message to all friends and family: “for the next few weeks I don’t exist. Matt Curran has left the building. You might find him buried under removals boxes, drafts of manuscripts, or running into the hills giggling insanely.”

“Either that, or my head will explode.”