They Are Studying Us In Petri Dishes

NEIL’S BLOG ENTRY ABOUT GOOD OMENS SEASON 2

Many, many years ago (it was Hallowe'en 1989, for the curious, the year before Good Omens was published) Terry Pratchett and I were sharing a room at the World Fantasy Convention in Seattle, to keep the costs down, because we were both young authors, and taking ourselves to America and conventions were expensive. It was a wonderful convention. I remember a huge Seattle second-hand bookstore in which I found a dozen or so green-bound Storisende Edition James Branch Cabell books, each signed so neatly by the author that the bookshop people assured me that the signatures were printed, and really ten dollars a book was the correct price.

I could afford books. Good Omens had just been sold to UK publishers and then to US publishers for more money than Terry or I had ever received for anything. (Terry had been incredibly worried about this, certain that receiving a healthy advance would mean the end of his career. When his career didn’t end, Terry suggested to his agent that perhaps he ought to be getting that kind of advance for every book from now on, and his life changed, and he stopped having to share a hotel room to save money. But I digress.) Advance reading copies of Good Omens had not yet gone out, but a few editors had read it (ones who had bid for it but failed to buy it) and they all seemed very excited about it, and thrilled for us.

On the Saturday evening Terry left the bar quite early and headed off to bed. I stayed up talking to people and having a marvelous time, hung in there until the small hours of the morning when they closed the hotel bar and all the people went away, and then headed up to the hotel room room.

I opened the door as quietly as I could and tiptoed in the dark across the room to where my bed was located.

I’d just reached the bed when, from the far side of the room, a voice said, “What time of the night do you call this then? Your mother and I have been worried sick about you.”

Terry was wide awake. Jet lag had taken its toll.

And I was wide awake too. So we lay in our respective beds and having nothing else to do, we plotted the sequel to Good Omens. It was a good one, too. We fully intended to write it, whenever we next had three or four months free. Only I went to live in America and Terry stayed in the UK, and after Good Omens was published Sandman became SANDMAN and Discworld became DISCWORLD™ and there wasn’t ever a good time.

But we never forgot it.

It’s been thirty-one years since Good Omens was published, which means it’s thirty-two years since Terry Pratchett and I lay in our respective beds in a Seattle hotel room at a World Fantasy Convention, and plotted the sequel. (I got to use bits of the sequel in the TV series version of Good Omens – that’s where our angels came from.)

[Terry and I, in Cardiff in 2010, on the night we decided that Good Omens should become a television series.]

Terry was clear on what he wanted from Good Omens on the telly. He wanted the story told, and if that worked, he wanted the rest of the story told.

So in September 2017 I sat down in St James’ Park, beside the director, Douglas Mackinnon, on a chair with my name on it, as Showrunner of Good Omens. The chair slowly and elegantly lowered itself to the ground underneath me and fell apart, and I thought, that’s not really a good omen. Fortunately, under Douglas’s leadership, that chair was the only thing that collapsed.

So, once Good Omens the TV series had been released by Amazon and the BBC, to global acclaim, many awards and joy,  Rob Wilkins (Terry’s representative on Earth) and I had the conversation with the BBC and Amazon about doing some more. And they got very excited. We talked to Michael Sheen and David Tennant about doing some more. They also got very excited. We told them a little about the plot. They got even more excited.

[Rob Wilkins and David Tennant on the second day of shooting.]

I’d been a fan of John Finnemore’s for years, and had had the joy of working with him on a radio show called With Great Pleasure, where I picked passages I loved, had amazing readers read them aloud and talked about them.

(Here’s a clip from that show of me talking about working with Terry Pratchett, and reading a poem by Terry: https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/p06x3syv. Here’s the whole show from YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j7OsS_JWbzQ with John Finnemore’s bits too.)

I asked John if he’d be willing to work with me on writing the next round of Good Omens, and was overjoyed when he said yes. We have some surprise guest collaborators too. And Douglas Mackinnon is returning to oversee the whole thing with me.

So that’s the plan. We’ve been keeping it secret for a long time (mostly because otherwise my mail and Twitter feeds would have turned into gushing torrents of What Can You Tell Us About It? long ago) but we are now at the point where sets are being built in Scotland (which is where we’re shooting, and more about filming things in Scotland soon), and we can’t really keep it secret any longer.

There are so many questions people have asked about what happened next (and also, what happened before) to our favourite Angel and Demon. Here are, perhaps, some of the answers you’ve been hoping for.

As Good Omens continues, we will be back in Soho, and all through time and space, solving a mystery which starts with one of the angels wandering through a Soho street market with no memory of who they might be, on their way to Aziraphale’s bookshop.

(Although our story actually begins about five minutes before anyone had got around to saying “Let there be Light”.)

---

the saiki k cast is all just so sad like seriously they have so many issues it isnt funny aiura has probably tried to warn people about their deaths so many times and it just doesnt work kusuke feels probably completely worthless when compared to his brother and moved away at 16 kusou has seen the absolute worst in humanity and probably feels like garbage because he didnt do anything teruhashi needs to get into therapy so bad it isnt funny nendou is hated just because of the way he looks even though hes one of the sweetest people out there aren has been beating people up since elementary and based on his nickname has killed someone and likely struggles with the guilt of that kaidou has a very overbearing mother thats trying to push him in a direction he doesnt want to go mera works like 5 separate jobs just to provide for her family saiko most likely doesnt know how to properly convey emotions since all he cared about til the show was money chiyo feels she has to have a boyfriend and when she does get one he fucking sucks akechi used to be beat up by bullies if hairo gets burn out hes just going to explode since all he does is help people and without that hed probably feel useless and toritsuka didnt know his grandparents were dead til he tried to hug them the entirety of this mangas cast needs therapy and if it wasnt for each other they probably couldnt cope (anyways im very normal about this show)

i am thinking so so deeply about love/hope in horror right now. i am thinking so much about how horror presents the most raw of human emotion and vulnerability and presents the choice to love and heal and protect each other and hope for the future despite it all. it's so important. it's so vital to have heart and catharsis within horror.

shin soukoku but akutagawa is always persuaded when atsushi's says "if you do ____, i'll let you pet my ears" akutagawa would literally die to feel atsushi's ears im afraid, even if he just doesn't show it outwardly

what does horror mean to you guys? Like, is it an artistic expression, maybe a type of comfort, etc etc. Love your podcasts!!! 🫶

I guess I see it much like any genre - as a kind of licence, based on audience expectation and audience trust, to take them to certain places.

For me the only difference with horror, and what really excites me about it, is that it's a particularly flexible licence, with fewer hard requirements, and the driver is given more scope to go to stranger, bleaker, and darker destinations in pursuit of something interesting.

So we can debate whether elevated horror or torture porn or soft Halloween spookadoodles or whatever counts as 'real' horror (or indeed whether The Silt Verses should be called contemporary dark fantasy instead), or like Stephen King in On Writing, we can try and impose some kind of hierarchy of the audience's emotional responses, but horror resists these attempts to clearly classify it: humanity's collective understanding of the genre remains broad and mutable enough to include existential terror, cosy ghost stories, transgressive body horror, bleak and violent nihilism, and goofy Lovecraftian kitsch.

I love some of this stuff as great art and hate some of it as trash (and love some of it as trash as well), but the joy of horror lies in the fact that it's such a big, anarchic, permissive playground.

Horror is the sign on the door that simply promises, 'Bad things are going to happen.'

video essays about horror, fear and dread

Films That Feel Like Bad Dreams

The Nightmare Artist

Fear of Big Things Underwater

Control, Anatomy, and the Legacy of the Haunted House

House of Leaves: The Horror Of Fiction

Monsters in the Closet: A History of LGBT Representation in Horror Cinema

The History of Insane Asylums and Horror Movies

The Saddest Horror Movie You’ve Never Seen

Fear of Forgetting

Slender Man: Misunderstanding Ten Years Of The Internet

The Real Reason The Thing (1982) is Better than The Thing (2011)

The Bizarre Clown Painting No One Fully Understands

The Little Book of Cosmic Horrors

The Disturbing Art of A.I.

Fear of Depths

Goya’s Witches

David Lynch: The Treachery of Language

The True History That Created Folk Horror

The Existential Horror of David Cronenberg’s Camera

Keep reading

masterpost of horror lists

here are all my horror lists in one place to make it easier to find! enjoy!

sub-genres

action horror

analog horror

animated horror

anthology horror

aquatic horror

apocalyptic horror

backwoods horror

campy horror

children’s horror

comedy horror

coming-of-age horror

corporate/work place horror

cult horror

dance horror

daylight horror

death games

domestic horror

ecological horror

erotic horror

experimental horror

fairytale horror

folk horror

found footage horror

giallo horror

gothic horror

historical horror

holiday horror

home invasion horror

house horror

indie horror

isolation horror

lgbtqia+ horror

lovecraftian/cosmic horror

medical horror

meta horror

monster horror

musical horror

mythological horror

neo-monster horror

new french extremity horror

paranormal horror

psychedelic horror

psychological horror

religious horror

revenge horror

romantic horror

sad/dramatic horror (i think??)

science fiction horror

slasher

southern gothic horror

splatter/body horror

survival horror

techno-horror

vampire horror

virus horror

werewolf horror

western horror

witch horror

zombie horror

horror plots/settings

road trip horror

summer camp horror

cave horror

doll horror

plot devices

storm horror

from a child’s perspective

final girl/guy (this is slasher horror trope)

last guy/girl (this is different than final girl/guy)

reality-bending horror

slow burn horror

foreign horror or non-american horror

african horror

spanish horror

middle eastern horror

korean horror

japanese horror

british horror

german horror

indian horror

decades

silent era

30s horror

40s horror

50s horror

60s horror

70s horror

80s horror

90s horror

2000s horror

2010s horror

2020s horror

companies/services

blumhouse horror

a24 horror

ghosthouse horror

shudder horror

other lists

horror literature to movies

video game to horror movie adaption

video nasties

female directed horror

my 130 favorite horror movies

horror movies critics hated because they’re stupid

horror remakes/sequels that weren’t bad

female villains in horror

horror movies so bad they’re good

non-horror movies that feel like horror movies

directors + their favorite horror movies + directors in the notes

tumblr’s favorite horror movie (based off my poll)

horror movie plot twists

cult classic horror movies

i didnt realise ao3 was started in response to lj deleting account relating to p//edophi|ia and they explicitly support the posting of such works yikes

thinking about Eddie’s dom voice being the same as his dramatic DM voice and Steve only finding out when he finally relents and joins a session. Also thinking about Eddie & Steve who haven’t yet met in person or seen each other’s faces but have been talking (and more) on the phone for weeks. Steve is picking Dustin up from a DnD session that’s run late -

Usually he would wait in the car, but tonight seems to be taking especially long, and Eddie, very unusually, hasn’t messaged him back for 2 hours now, so it’s either go in early or practice the breathing exercises Robin gets him to do when his anxiety flares up. He decides to go in early.

The lights are dimmed in the cafe, and the front door regretfully informs him that ‘sorry, we’re closed,’ but the door isn’t locked, and he can hear sounds of life spilling from the back of the building. The delighted yells of his pseudo-little brother and the rest of the party drown out the cafe’s entry bell. He follows the sounds of outraged yelling to the back of the room where the party & a couple of guys Steve doesn’t recognise are huddled around 3 tables pushed together. There’s a guy sitting at the head of the table, hunched forward, wild hair falling into his face as he gestures to the group. He’s pretty, Steve thinks idly, if a little dramatic. He’s perched atop a fucking throne and Steve is just about to roll his eyes when the man speaks in a low, gravelly tone. The one Steve has been hearing in every phone call, every dream, every fantasy he’s had for the past 7 weeks. The one that hooks straight into his gut and pulls.

Steve’s vaguely aware that somewhere his eyes have widened, and his mouth has parted into a soft ‘oh,’ and his body has frozen where he left it. He is also aware, far more saliently, of the quiet static in his bones, white noise rippling calmly in his brain, his overwhelming need to be good. Steve isn’t sure how long his body stands stationary, his consciousness floating 3 feet to the left, before the DnD group slowly turn to look back at him. Steve feels the guy at the head of the table’s stare the most, intense, almost-black eyes boring straight through to the core of him, trapping Steve in his gaze, a butterfly pinned under glass. The guy raises one unimpressed eyebrow, clears his throat, and Steve braces himself to hear the voice that’s roamed the passages of his mind every day for the past 7 weeks.

‘Hey, uh, did you miss the ‘closed’ sign on your way in, buddy?’ The guy, although Steve thinks he may as well reconcile this mystery man with his Eddie, drawls at him, almost bored sounding. The higher pitched, borderline nasal quality his voice has resumed helps force Steve back inside his own body with a jolt.

‘I’m here for little Dustin. My little brother. Dustin.’ Steve stammers, gesturing lamely to where Dustin has rested his head in his hands. A delightedly cruel grin stretches across the guy’s, Eddie’s face.

‘Well little Dustin, don’t want to keep your brother waiting,’ Eddie trills, his eyes roving lazily down Steve’s body before snapping back to the party. As he leans forward, steepling his fingers in front of his face, his voice takes on the deep, rumbling quality that Steve has come to be intimately familiar with, sending a flush to his cheeks and shiver through core of him. ‘And that, dear friends, is where we conclude our story for today.’

The table erupts into chaos, groans and protests flying, most of them aimed at Steve if Mike’s hissed ‘thanks a lot, Harrington’ is anything to go by. Steve shuffles his way to the front counter, shoulders nearly pinned to his ears, as he waits for the party to pack up and counts 5 things he can see, touch, smell, resolutely ignores what he can hear. Because there’s no way. There’s no way Dustin’s DM is Eddie, his Eddie, the man who’s been talking him to sleep for the best part of 2 months. The same Eddie who’s been coaxing him through the exploration of his submissive side. The same Eddie he’s supposed to be going on his first date with in, oh fuck, two days. The same Eddie he was just a stuttering, gormless, fool in front of. The same Eddie walking towards him now, nodding mildly at whatever Dustin is chattering away about, staring directly into Steve’s soul. Dustin doesn’t even slow as he passes Steve toward the exit, holding the door and gesturing towards the car expectantly. Steve fumbles with his keys, desperate leave and drive away from this cafe, maybe even the whole town, if only he weren’t held captive under Eddie’s stare.

‘See ya next time, Little Dustin,’ Eddie smirks, eyes never leaving Steve’s. Somewhere to Steve’s right Dustin grumbles in response as Eddie continues. ‘And Little Dustin’s not-so-little brother.’

‘Bye, Eddie.’ Steve’s voice comes out breathless, higher than he’s used to hearing from himself under normal circumstances. The shadow of a frown crosses Eddie’s features, a flash of recognition, thunder preceding lighting.

Eddie tilts his head in confusion, opens his mouth. ‘Ste-‘

Steve bolts.

"Stop saying 15 year olds with weird interests are cringe, they're 15" this is true however you should also stop saying adults with weird interests are cringe because who gives a shit