(Let's Hope He Doesn't) Drop Dead Fred
The intensely long chronicle of one intensely unlucky cat began in 2003 and is still running within the Neil Gaiman blog. Therefore I'm treating you all to an intensely long list of quotes (some of which are intensely long in and of themselves) that detail the history of one Fred, The Unlucky Black Cat. Enjoy. I'm thinkin gmaybe next week I'll post the Saga of the Black Socks... but am undecided.
--RRNN
“Tomorrow I shall tell the story of Fred the Cat. Which may turn into an appeal, of sorts...”
-- 10/27/03 Neil Gaiman
“So. Fred the cat.
Fred turned up in the summer, shortly after Coconut and Captain Morgan arrived. He was a wild just-a-bit-more-than-a-kitten, black with a white chest. He spent about a month circling the house nervously, running away if we put food out for him. Then he suddenly decided that we were safe, and came to live under the back stairs. We'd've called him The Black Cat, except that then we would have confused him with the cat who got to be the star of my short story "The Price". So I called him Fred.
The day I set off to go on tour, I noticed he was limping, and mentioned it to my-assistant-Lorraine. I thought no more of it, until I got an e-mail from Lorraine, who had found him, several days later, on the point of death. Something had bitten him in the leg, and the wound had festered -- it had opened up all the way to the bone. "He looked like an anatomy lesson," said Lorraine.
He spent five weeks at the vet's.
Then he came home. He's healed remarkably -- he has a raw patch of flesh, the size of a quarter, on his rear right leg, but the bone is no longer visible, the flesh is still regrowing, and in a year it'll just be a scar.
He'd also doubled in size while at the vet. He went off a skinny black cat, came back a sleek black machine of muscle. Who, until his leg heals, is not meant to go outside.
We discovered very quickly that he couldn't be given the run of the house. He's a male (although now neutered) fighting machine, when he wants to be, who needs to demonstrate that he is top cat, and promptly started beating up all the other cats. Which wasn't good. He needed to be kept in a space in which other cats weren't.
He's really friendly. He likes company. He ought to be outside hunting for things, and spends most of his nights prowling for smaller things to kill. Things like, well, people's toes.
First off he stayed with Lorraine. But she was getting no sleep. So I, who have done practically nothing but sleep since I got back from touring, volunteered to look after him. Fred's now got the whole attic to prowl, along with the attic-bedroom-office that's really my son Mike's but he doesn't mind me using. And I can sleep through earthquakes, so even a black cat on the prowl launching himself at my toes with intent to kill is unlikely to wake me.
So I'll keep looking after him until I head off for the UK, by which time he may or may not be able to move out of the attic. I'm not yet quite at the point of putting out a "Does anyone with a garden in the Twin Cities area need a Fred" appeal. But I suspect it may come.”
-- 10/30/03 Neil Gaiman
“And Fred the cat talks.
I've never had a talking cat before.
He wanders round the attic saying things like "Hullo..." and "Mimi". Well, the "hullo" is more like "hurro", but it's still quite off-putting if you aren't used to it.
His leg is healing fast. I'm really going to miss Fred when I go to the UK.”
--11/05/03 Neil Gaiman
“I've been Fred-free for a little while, although I go home very soon… The report from home is that he's happy and healthy, but a handful, as he desperately does "I-am-the-most-important-cat-here-and-I'll-beat-you-up-if-you-don't-acknowledge-my-wonderfulness" stuff, which none of the other cats are particularly impressed by.”
-- 12/16/03 Neil Gaiman
“Home again, a bit tired. Fred the cat is off at the vet, with some kind of oozing head-wound from fighting something else. He's fatter than when I went away. Everyone else is more or less the same weight, except for Lorraine, who is thinner.”
-- 12/25/03 Neil Gaiman
“Fred the unlucky black cat gets put out once a day, so that he can get some exercise. Unfortunately for Fred, Fred's idea of exercise consists of attempting to beat up other neighbourhood cats to demonstrate to them what is self-evident to Fred: that he, Fred the cat, is the toppest, coolest, dangerousest, bossest cat there is.
The other cats just think he's a tosser.
Fred was a stray who only became an inside cat after receiving a gaping leg wound (Sharon Stiteler, official Bird Lady of neilgaiman.com, thinks it was an owl-inflicted wound) which meant that he lived at the vet's for a month before he was allowed home, and it was another month before he was allowed outside. Once that had healed there was the oozing head wound. This morning I noticed he was limping, and not using his left front paw. An expensive visit to the vet's later they've discovered another ulcerated wound. So now he's taking his antibiotics and limping around the attic, looking faintly martyred, and all the other cats of the neighbourhood are glad of the peace and quiet.
I wish I could explain to him that if he left the other cats alone, they'd leave him alone, and they don't react to every tiny wound by going into some kind of septic meltdown, and he does. But there's no explaining things to cats.”
--01/23/04 Neil Gaiman
“I would be feeling much more sorry for myself than I am if it weren't for Fred the Unlucky Black Cat, whose paw has healed nicely... just in time for him to spend tonight back at the vet's, having a tumourous lump removed from his chest. Poor thing. Let's hope it's not malignant, although with Fred's luck, I'm afraid it almost certainly will be. So I'm feeling sorry for Fred, and worried about him. He really is a very nice cat, and is very easily made happy, as long as you have the bottletop from some bottled water around for him to play with.”
-- 01/27/04 Neil Gaiman
“Fred the Unlucky Black Cat is now home from the vet. He has a comical and conical white plastic collar around his neck, to stop him licking his wound. His belly is pink, discoloured, knobbly, hacked and stitched, and looks rather like something from an 80s horror movie.
Fred's tumour has gone off to the university for testing.
Fred seems perfectly cheerful, although he looks baffled by the collar-cone, which will remain on until he gets the stitches out, in a couple of weeks.”
-- 01/30/04 Neil Gaiman
“Fred the Unlucky Black Cat spends all of his spare time trying to remove the conical white plastic collar that the vet put on to stop him licking his stitches. He tries to remove the collar by rubbing it, continually, over and over, against the carpet, or against a blanket or the carpet-covered-cat-climbing-thing-I-got-him-to-keep-him-busy. Rub rub rub rub rub rub rub, over and over, in the dry air of a wintery bedroom. As he does this he builds up static charges which do not discharge, then wanders the room with all his fur on end, attracting hair, dust, small pieces of paper, fluff and lint, a black cat slowly going grey with dust. I am sitting here typing, and I just felt Fred go past, six inches away, like a prickly ghost of static wind.”
-- 01/31/04 Neil Gaiman
“I keep taking photos of Fred, who doesn't like having his photo taken in the collar, and, a moment before it clicks he moves or turns away or wiggles or looks in the wrong place, and is all in all astoundingly unhelpful. All the other cats in the house immediately started taking the opportunity to be photogenic and statuesque and generally have begun to do obscenely cute things and continue doing them until I've taken a really good photo of them.
So now I have lots of great photos of other cats, and lots of terrible photos of Fred.
The Good News was that Fred's tumour wasn't malign.”
-- 02/02/04 Neil Gaiman
“Fred's well, right now. Much too well to be living in the attic, but he's still up there due to his irritating habit of attacking all other local cats with gusto. And teeth and claws. (Sigh. Twitcat.) He's also started doing tricks, but mostly only if there's no-one else watching, in an attempt to make me look really gullible. ("Do you want to see him do a trick. Okay, Fred. Fred? look, he did it just fine when there was only me here... FRED! DO THE TRICK! Er. Sorry...")
-- 02/22/04 Neil Gaiman
“Fred the Unlucky Black Cat has been doing fairly well recently. About ten minutes ago, he inspired a small poem, for a start.
Ahem.
---A Cat in the Ointment
For some, life's one long fine surprise
the ointment's pure: there are no flies.
For some, life's one long disappointment
there's only flies: there is no ointment.
The rest of us live in the middle.
You own the cat -- clean up the widdle. ---
Although actually it's not widdle, but cat vomit in astonishing quantities. (None of the rhymes for vomit or puke seemed to fit though. No, don't take it as a challenge, please.) No cat can have eaten that much cat food, I thought, as I got out of bed and looked at the bedroom carpet. Then Fred staggered back over to it and began retching and hiccupping and gurgling again, and deposited yet more undigested catfood onto a fairly white bedroom carpet.
Excuse me. I really only came downstairs for more paper towels. I have some late night carpet cleaning I should be getting back to.”
--05/25/04 Neil Gaiman
“Fred the Unlucky Black Cat went to the vet today, as he was obviously in severe stomach pain. Lots of people had helpfully written to me to tell me all the potential medical awfulnesses that his throwing up could have been a symptom of, until I was convinced that his problem was some kind of intestinal cancer or something, but it turned out to be puncture wounds -- some animal had bitten him, deeply, on the stomach. He's back from the vet now, with a shaved tummy, and on painkillers and antibiotics. Sigh. At least we caught it before it abscessed this time.”
-- 05/28/04 Neil Gaiman
“Right. Cat update. Fred is huge and black -- not as huge as the original The Black Cat, the one I put into the story all those years ago, but still big -- and he still talks when he gets agitated: he wanders around the house going "hurrow? hurrow?" sounding bizarrely human. When I go for walks in the woods, Fred follows along, like a dog. Unfortunately he also terrifies all the other cats: he's bigger than them, and likes being boss cat. Because he terrifies them I throw him out a lot.
Princess is still white, still long-haired, but frailer than she was. She knows that she once used to be the meanest cat on the block, and she remembers being feral and living for years in the woods, but these days mostly she just sleeps and begs for chicken. I don't know how old she was when she turned up here, almost twelve years ago -- at least a couple of years old.
I keep meaning to write something about Captain Morgan, who used to try and push himself up people's noses (and still does, from time to time, but mostly he just snuggles up in a position that makes it really hard to type and then drools on you affectionately). He's getting big, and his ears are the oddest ears I've ever seen on a cat who wasn't actually a Scottish Fold. The top half inch of his right ear is flat and tilted forward, like something from a cartoon. Bizarre.”
-- 04/15/05 Neil Gaiman
“Let's see. Lots of people have written asking if Fred the Unlucky Black Cat was the inspiration for either the Black Cat from "The Price" or the cat in Coraline. I'm afraid not - Fred didn't turn up until the summer of 2003, long long after both stories were written. The cat in Coraline came out of my head -- we weren't allowed pets in the flat in Nutley, and I wanted a cat badly -- while The Black Cat was real (and about twice the size of Fred) and was around in about 1997. We found a good home for him eventually.”
-- 07/29/05 Neil Gaiman
“For the last two days I've been exiled from my bed to my son Mike's empty bedroom off the attic, due to painting work currently going on in my bedroom, so Fred is, as I write this, sleeping near the foot of the attic bed and is incredibly happy. When we first let him into the house he was badly injured, and I slept up here to keep him company. And I did the same thing months later, the next time it happened. So Fred believes that the natural order of things is for me to be sleeping up here and for him to be at the foot of the bed, guarding against dust-balls. He continues to be Unlucky, and several enormous vet bills following other-animal-inflicted injuries have gone unreported on this blog.
Misty's arrival mucked up the precarious balance of cat-power in the house -- as she turned from a kitten into a young lady the two male cats, Coconut and Fred, both realised they adored her despite being fixed, and needed desperately to impress her, while the two female cats, Princess and Zoe, both disapproved of all this, and all four of them suddenly needed to start urinating everywhere in order to make sure that their feelings were known and territories were marked and so on. Our vet suggested Feliway diffusers, and three weeks later there's a noticeable improvement.”
-- 01/23/06 Neil Gaiman
“I am worried about Fred the Unlucky Black Cat, back into the vet again, in my absence.”
-- 03/21/06 Neil Gaiman
“Fred, by the way, for those of you who write in and ask, is currently doing as fine as can be expected when you're not allowed to eat with any other cats, or near any other cats, and have to take daily medicine, and you're only fed soft food (which he hates) rather than nice crunchy hard food (which he loves, but won't drink anything when he eats it, so he winds up with a gut filled with food that is, er unpoopable). But as Sharon says, it's time to keep him inside at night.”
-- Neil Gaiman 05/01/06
--RRNN
“Tomorrow I shall tell the story of Fred the Cat. Which may turn into an appeal, of sorts...”
-- 10/27/03 Neil Gaiman
“So. Fred the cat.
Fred turned up in the summer, shortly after Coconut and Captain Morgan arrived. He was a wild just-a-bit-more-than-a-kitten, black with a white chest. He spent about a month circling the house nervously, running away if we put food out for him. Then he suddenly decided that we were safe, and came to live under the back stairs. We'd've called him The Black Cat, except that then we would have confused him with the cat who got to be the star of my short story "The Price". So I called him Fred.
The day I set off to go on tour, I noticed he was limping, and mentioned it to my-assistant-Lorraine. I thought no more of it, until I got an e-mail from Lorraine, who had found him, several days later, on the point of death. Something had bitten him in the leg, and the wound had festered -- it had opened up all the way to the bone. "He looked like an anatomy lesson," said Lorraine.
He spent five weeks at the vet's.
Then he came home. He's healed remarkably -- he has a raw patch of flesh, the size of a quarter, on his rear right leg, but the bone is no longer visible, the flesh is still regrowing, and in a year it'll just be a scar.
He'd also doubled in size while at the vet. He went off a skinny black cat, came back a sleek black machine of muscle. Who, until his leg heals, is not meant to go outside.
We discovered very quickly that he couldn't be given the run of the house. He's a male (although now neutered) fighting machine, when he wants to be, who needs to demonstrate that he is top cat, and promptly started beating up all the other cats. Which wasn't good. He needed to be kept in a space in which other cats weren't.
He's really friendly. He likes company. He ought to be outside hunting for things, and spends most of his nights prowling for smaller things to kill. Things like, well, people's toes.
First off he stayed with Lorraine. But she was getting no sleep. So I, who have done practically nothing but sleep since I got back from touring, volunteered to look after him. Fred's now got the whole attic to prowl, along with the attic-bedroom-office that's really my son Mike's but he doesn't mind me using. And I can sleep through earthquakes, so even a black cat on the prowl launching himself at my toes with intent to kill is unlikely to wake me.
So I'll keep looking after him until I head off for the UK, by which time he may or may not be able to move out of the attic. I'm not yet quite at the point of putting out a "Does anyone with a garden in the Twin Cities area need a Fred" appeal. But I suspect it may come.”
-- 10/30/03 Neil Gaiman
“And Fred the cat talks.
I've never had a talking cat before.
He wanders round the attic saying things like "Hullo..." and "Mimi". Well, the "hullo" is more like "hurro", but it's still quite off-putting if you aren't used to it.
His leg is healing fast. I'm really going to miss Fred when I go to the UK.”
--11/05/03 Neil Gaiman
“I've been Fred-free for a little while, although I go home very soon… The report from home is that he's happy and healthy, but a handful, as he desperately does "I-am-the-most-important-cat-here-and-I'll-beat-you-up-if-you-don't-acknowledge-my-wonderfulness" stuff, which none of the other cats are particularly impressed by.”
-- 12/16/03 Neil Gaiman
“Home again, a bit tired. Fred the cat is off at the vet, with some kind of oozing head-wound from fighting something else. He's fatter than when I went away. Everyone else is more or less the same weight, except for Lorraine, who is thinner.”
-- 12/25/03 Neil Gaiman
“Fred the unlucky black cat gets put out once a day, so that he can get some exercise. Unfortunately for Fred, Fred's idea of exercise consists of attempting to beat up other neighbourhood cats to demonstrate to them what is self-evident to Fred: that he, Fred the cat, is the toppest, coolest, dangerousest, bossest cat there is.
The other cats just think he's a tosser.
Fred was a stray who only became an inside cat after receiving a gaping leg wound (Sharon Stiteler, official Bird Lady of neilgaiman.com, thinks it was an owl-inflicted wound) which meant that he lived at the vet's for a month before he was allowed home, and it was another month before he was allowed outside. Once that had healed there was the oozing head wound. This morning I noticed he was limping, and not using his left front paw. An expensive visit to the vet's later they've discovered another ulcerated wound. So now he's taking his antibiotics and limping around the attic, looking faintly martyred, and all the other cats of the neighbourhood are glad of the peace and quiet.
I wish I could explain to him that if he left the other cats alone, they'd leave him alone, and they don't react to every tiny wound by going into some kind of septic meltdown, and he does. But there's no explaining things to cats.”
--01/23/04 Neil Gaiman
“I would be feeling much more sorry for myself than I am if it weren't for Fred the Unlucky Black Cat, whose paw has healed nicely... just in time for him to spend tonight back at the vet's, having a tumourous lump removed from his chest. Poor thing. Let's hope it's not malignant, although with Fred's luck, I'm afraid it almost certainly will be. So I'm feeling sorry for Fred, and worried about him. He really is a very nice cat, and is very easily made happy, as long as you have the bottletop from some bottled water around for him to play with.”
-- 01/27/04 Neil Gaiman
“Fred the Unlucky Black Cat is now home from the vet. He has a comical and conical white plastic collar around his neck, to stop him licking his wound. His belly is pink, discoloured, knobbly, hacked and stitched, and looks rather like something from an 80s horror movie.
Fred's tumour has gone off to the university for testing.
Fred seems perfectly cheerful, although he looks baffled by the collar-cone, which will remain on until he gets the stitches out, in a couple of weeks.”
-- 01/30/04 Neil Gaiman
“Fred the Unlucky Black Cat spends all of his spare time trying to remove the conical white plastic collar that the vet put on to stop him licking his stitches. He tries to remove the collar by rubbing it, continually, over and over, against the carpet, or against a blanket or the carpet-covered-cat-climbing-thing-I-got-him-to-keep-him-busy. Rub rub rub rub rub rub rub, over and over, in the dry air of a wintery bedroom. As he does this he builds up static charges which do not discharge, then wanders the room with all his fur on end, attracting hair, dust, small pieces of paper, fluff and lint, a black cat slowly going grey with dust. I am sitting here typing, and I just felt Fred go past, six inches away, like a prickly ghost of static wind.”
-- 01/31/04 Neil Gaiman
“I keep taking photos of Fred, who doesn't like having his photo taken in the collar, and, a moment before it clicks he moves or turns away or wiggles or looks in the wrong place, and is all in all astoundingly unhelpful. All the other cats in the house immediately started taking the opportunity to be photogenic and statuesque and generally have begun to do obscenely cute things and continue doing them until I've taken a really good photo of them.
So now I have lots of great photos of other cats, and lots of terrible photos of Fred.
The Good News was that Fred's tumour wasn't malign.”
-- 02/02/04 Neil Gaiman
“Fred's well, right now. Much too well to be living in the attic, but he's still up there due to his irritating habit of attacking all other local cats with gusto. And teeth and claws. (Sigh. Twitcat.) He's also started doing tricks, but mostly only if there's no-one else watching, in an attempt to make me look really gullible. ("Do you want to see him do a trick. Okay, Fred. Fred? look, he did it just fine when there was only me here... FRED! DO THE TRICK! Er. Sorry...")
-- 02/22/04 Neil Gaiman
“Fred the Unlucky Black Cat has been doing fairly well recently. About ten minutes ago, he inspired a small poem, for a start.
Ahem.
---A Cat in the Ointment
For some, life's one long fine surprise
the ointment's pure: there are no flies.
For some, life's one long disappointment
there's only flies: there is no ointment.
The rest of us live in the middle.
You own the cat -- clean up the widdle. ---
Although actually it's not widdle, but cat vomit in astonishing quantities. (None of the rhymes for vomit or puke seemed to fit though. No, don't take it as a challenge, please.) No cat can have eaten that much cat food, I thought, as I got out of bed and looked at the bedroom carpet. Then Fred staggered back over to it and began retching and hiccupping and gurgling again, and deposited yet more undigested catfood onto a fairly white bedroom carpet.
Excuse me. I really only came downstairs for more paper towels. I have some late night carpet cleaning I should be getting back to.”
--05/25/04 Neil Gaiman
“Fred the Unlucky Black Cat went to the vet today, as he was obviously in severe stomach pain. Lots of people had helpfully written to me to tell me all the potential medical awfulnesses that his throwing up could have been a symptom of, until I was convinced that his problem was some kind of intestinal cancer or something, but it turned out to be puncture wounds -- some animal had bitten him, deeply, on the stomach. He's back from the vet now, with a shaved tummy, and on painkillers and antibiotics. Sigh. At least we caught it before it abscessed this time.”
-- 05/28/04 Neil Gaiman
“Right. Cat update. Fred is huge and black -- not as huge as the original The Black Cat, the one I put into the story all those years ago, but still big -- and he still talks when he gets agitated: he wanders around the house going "hurrow? hurrow?" sounding bizarrely human. When I go for walks in the woods, Fred follows along, like a dog. Unfortunately he also terrifies all the other cats: he's bigger than them, and likes being boss cat. Because he terrifies them I throw him out a lot.
Princess is still white, still long-haired, but frailer than she was. She knows that she once used to be the meanest cat on the block, and she remembers being feral and living for years in the woods, but these days mostly she just sleeps and begs for chicken. I don't know how old she was when she turned up here, almost twelve years ago -- at least a couple of years old.
I keep meaning to write something about Captain Morgan, who used to try and push himself up people's noses (and still does, from time to time, but mostly he just snuggles up in a position that makes it really hard to type and then drools on you affectionately). He's getting big, and his ears are the oddest ears I've ever seen on a cat who wasn't actually a Scottish Fold. The top half inch of his right ear is flat and tilted forward, like something from a cartoon. Bizarre.”
-- 04/15/05 Neil Gaiman
“Let's see. Lots of people have written asking if Fred the Unlucky Black Cat was the inspiration for either the Black Cat from "The Price" or the cat in Coraline. I'm afraid not - Fred didn't turn up until the summer of 2003, long long after both stories were written. The cat in Coraline came out of my head -- we weren't allowed pets in the flat in Nutley, and I wanted a cat badly -- while The Black Cat was real (and about twice the size of Fred) and was around in about 1997. We found a good home for him eventually.”
-- 07/29/05 Neil Gaiman
“For the last two days I've been exiled from my bed to my son Mike's empty bedroom off the attic, due to painting work currently going on in my bedroom, so Fred is, as I write this, sleeping near the foot of the attic bed and is incredibly happy. When we first let him into the house he was badly injured, and I slept up here to keep him company. And I did the same thing months later, the next time it happened. So Fred believes that the natural order of things is for me to be sleeping up here and for him to be at the foot of the bed, guarding against dust-balls. He continues to be Unlucky, and several enormous vet bills following other-animal-inflicted injuries have gone unreported on this blog.
Misty's arrival mucked up the precarious balance of cat-power in the house -- as she turned from a kitten into a young lady the two male cats, Coconut and Fred, both realised they adored her despite being fixed, and needed desperately to impress her, while the two female cats, Princess and Zoe, both disapproved of all this, and all four of them suddenly needed to start urinating everywhere in order to make sure that their feelings were known and territories were marked and so on. Our vet suggested Feliway diffusers, and three weeks later there's a noticeable improvement.”
-- 01/23/06 Neil Gaiman
“I am worried about Fred the Unlucky Black Cat, back into the vet again, in my absence.”
-- 03/21/06 Neil Gaiman
“Fred, by the way, for those of you who write in and ask, is currently doing as fine as can be expected when you're not allowed to eat with any other cats, or near any other cats, and have to take daily medicine, and you're only fed soft food (which he hates) rather than nice crunchy hard food (which he loves, but won't drink anything when he eats it, so he winds up with a gut filled with food that is, er unpoopable). But as Sharon says, it's time to keep him inside at night.”
-- Neil Gaiman 05/01/06
posted by Really_Rather_Not_Nice at 5:15 PM
10 Comments:
Thank you, for the quotes about Fred. I have been wondering how he has been doing. Good thing Neil posted this link to your blog. I didn't know about this place until today. I like your Neil Quotes. Now I have your blog bookmarked RRNN.
Hey, thanks for the bookmark!
I try to post every weekend with a new slew of Neil Gaiman Goodness.
He's a great author, and a very funny guy, and I love being able to highlight some of his wise (and sometimes not-so-wise) words.
I just read and collect th ones that jump out at me. Neil does all the hard stuff.
what a lovely blog :)
i also didn't know about this place until reading neil's journal entry today, which has a link.
[by the way, he also mentions that there is one entry missing from the fred list]
bookmarked you too!
me too! thanks for all those quotes.. i'm sort of a newcomer to neil's blog, and am glad to hv learnt more abt fred :) are there any pictures of him anywhere though?
I really love this site :)
How about doing a "special" for quotes for his works for each of those? Like a special for Sandman quotes, a special for American Gods quotes, a special for Neverwhere quotes... I'd totally love to see that, because there is a ton of brilliant stuff in his works :)
Thanks to all of you!
Not sure if there are any pictures of Fred Online or not. Never seen them if there are... One of these quotes even mentions how un-photogenic the little troublemaker is. So that may be why.
I've decided to let the one missing Fred entry slide. After all, people have to have something to do when they actually go over the Neil's site. Maybe there'll be a Fred pt. 2 sometime, and I'll include it there.
And I absolutely love the idea of doing special themed quotes for different projects. I've pretty much been lumping them together in with a lot of the writing quotes at this point, but see no reason why I couldn't do a Sandman themed collection, or a Stardust one... or even a Satanic Tomato collection (That one's already in the works). I mostly stick to just the blog when collecting Neil quotes, just because its so searchable, and combing through the books, comics, interviews, screenplays, and such would take a lot more time than I currently have. But as I've mentioned in my sidebar, feel free to submit your own favorite quotes here any time you like, as I'm sure Neil won't mind as long as you give him credit and refer to where you got the quote.
I'm glad people are liking the quotes, and the site. It makes the effort, while done mainly for my own entertainment, all that much more worth it, since I know other people are reading it too.
reading it and loving it!
nice work!!
Fred's a nutcase. What he needs is a cup of nutmeg mild, a good book (Mr Gaiman has plenty of those!) and a good nights rest.
Still reading this blog....and still enjoying it.
Loved the Maddy selections today, and join in the Happy Birthday wishes.
It's hard to keep up a blog, rrnn, when real life tends to encroach on the important things you really want to do....but don't forget that you are developing your own group of fans. I, too, have this blog bookmarked! :D
Nice post you got here. I'd like to read more concerning this theme. Thanks for posting that material.
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