In a genre that’s a minefield of clichés and worn-out “rules,” what story is left to tell? How do I bring fresh blood to the old heme-bag? (Originally I wanted to title this blog entry “The Top Ten Reasons I Shouldn’t Write A Story About Vampires” or "How Twilight Ruined Vampire Movies Forever.") What’s my motivation? What’s my Monster’s motivation? More importantly, why do I even like vampires in the first place?! I feel absolutely drained and at the same time I’m possessed. I need to tell a story about vampires. I’ve tried to place it gently aside, shut it in a drawer somewhere, ignore the countless files and drafts and scribbled notes.
But just when I’ve managed to distract myself, to start work on another more promising—and original—story, I’m gripped. The premise seems so perfect: A Coming-of-Age, Fish Out-of-Water, Rags to Riches story about a character who must Overcome a Monster, a Vampire. It’s fresh! It’s alive! It’s…been Done to Death. And this is always the nail in the coffin. The Monster. What does the Monster want? Blood? Body count? These days, it’s not as easy as, say, What would happen if a vampire moved next door to you? (Thanks, Tom Holland.) Like us, monsters, especially vampires, have desires. They want families and companionship (Lost Boys, Let Me In). They want to be loved, to be left alone or both (Twilight). They want to enact complicated plots for world domination (Blade, Buffy).
Are vampires actually the victims here? Aren't they as bored and tired of all the rules, the Dos and Don’ts of being undead? I think ultimately vampires just want to get along, to be understood for the over-exposed, demystified creatures they really are. We know them a little too well and they are, perhaps, the worse for wear. Maybe we are the real monsters.
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