Yeah, I’m totally not ashamed to say it, even though it seems like these days you should be. Or at least qualify it with, “Well, not pretty ones.” But honestly, I like pretty vampires, I like ugly vampires. I like vampires that have to kill to drink, and vampires that can take a little and send you on your way. Hell, I even like vampires that emo about their lives, so long as they do it in an entertaining way. I like pulpy vampires and I like pseudo-literary vampires. I like vampires that f#%k, and I like vampires that fight. (Not that the two are mutually exclusive– nor should they be.) Messy vampires, neat vampires, wasteful vampires (30 Days of Night!), vampires that stock up on humans like a squirrel hoarding nuts for winter.

Oh, I have my favorites– obviously Dracula is King, and I have a zero tolerance policy for nice vampires. (YA and MG, okay, you get out of jail free on this one. That’s cool.) When I want a monster, I want a damn monster, and the more they enjoy it, the more I will.  But you get my point. The vampire is my favorite monster– and that’s saying quite a lot.

That said, I do not like badly written books about anything– and badly done vampire books upset me immensely. I do, however, like really, really crappy movies. Preferably with Mike Nelson involved, but you know, I’ll riff it myself if need be. Good vampire movies are the stuff of dreams.

So in the spirit of vampire love, on this extremely sunny day, allow me to present to you one of my Amazing Finds from this afternoon’s shopping trip. A bad-ass Dracula comic, in tiny little book form.

Now that, my friends, is a vampire. Hell yes.

Also, Jonathan Harker is a tool. It wanted saying.

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Now playing: Primal Scream – Miss Lucifer
via FoxyTunes

I was taking pictures of the new place last night, since it’s finally settled, and realized that my desk really betrays my lack of originality. Then again, when I saw Gaiman read, even he said, “You don’t exist in a vacuum.” This will probably not be interesting to anyone but me, because I like dissecting every little detail of every little thing, but here is what it takes:

a) Keyboard. Because the laptop one is always covered with s#!t.
b) Buddha. Keeps me sane and holds my noise-canceling headphones. Also holds tea lights. Om Mani Padme Hum, dude.
c) Inane post-its containing things I should do in my next novel, but will probably forget.
d) New album—in this case (well, most cases, actually) Manic Street Preachers. I’ll get some mileage out of that.
e) Jan Lievens exhibit brochure from National Gallery graces the cork board. Dutch Baroque muse?
f) Inspiring personalities in music. The one indicated is my Dead Boyfriend, Franz Liszt.
g) Andy Warhol quotes. Discussed previously.
h) Van Tango. Discussed previously.
i) Old CDs. Mostly classical found at second-hand book shops, in this rack. Best way to buy classical, apart from iTunes.
j) Edwin the Unfortunately Pink Reindeer (thank you Nat!) guards the printer. Also, Voices postcard tacked to research bookshelf, to remind me that I am totally publishable.
k) Current (well, current until last night) research read. Endless post it flags mean I’m insane. Also, you can see the top of the pen Becca gave me over my plastic mug, but not the star stand on which it sits. It has my name and first date of publication on it– again, to remind me. I am totally confident.
l) Hand-written notes from Neuronaut Reenie on currently being edited MS. My betas complete me.
m) Palm. So I never have to be totally netless.
n) F^&k-off loud speakers. Not pictured: Subwoofer under the desk.
o) Lola, my laptop. She’s sitting on “The Annotated Shakespeare: Vol. III, Tragedies and Romances”. Tells you how long its been since I read those, I reckon.

p) Space-aged race-car chair.
q) Book shelf between me and the front door. Loaded on both sides with goodness. And some of my husband’s boring crap, too.
r) ElfQuest prints. Best comic ever.

Also not pictured: Champagne Girl and white board just to my left. The white board is currently filled with potato graphs my uber-geek consultant husband drew to explain what is best in life. (Surprisingly, it was not to crush your enemies, to see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentations of their women. In spite of the fact that he has seen Conan multiple times. Hm.)

More than you ever wanted to know about me! Hey, we all do it, and I’ve seen some of yours. Anyone else?

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Now playing: Manic Street Preachers – Me And Stephen Hawking
via FoxyTunes

I’ve discussed previously how one of my favorite movies is Amadeus, I’m sure. Yeah, okay, not totally historically accurate with regard to Salieri, but let’s go with creative license here. Mozart rocks.

There’s this bit after the first performance of Il Seraglio that I love:

Ha! Hilarious!

But seriously, sometimes I read my first drafts and go, “God. Too many notes.” Only, I don’t mean it in the Mozart way– which is that it’s complicated and too advanced for the Royal Ear. Just that I’ve somehow made it to 28 without learning how to control my adjectives. (The battle against adverbs goes much better, though it’s not totally won yet.) So that’d make it in a Baroque way, wouldn’t it?

Anyhow, with the help of the lovely Meghan Brunner, today I’ve managed a second draft of my 20k novella– which she’s cleverly suggested be called “The Blood In Our Veins”. A double meaning as far as the story goes, and I kind of like it. But I’ve still no idea what use I could find for a historical dark fiction novella. I don’t know what compels me to write this crap, but I’d like to petition for slightly more capitalist demons. I would, if only I knew where to address my complaints.

Also, US types can now pre-order Grants Pass. Actually, anyone might be able to, if you just drop Mark Deniz an email, according to that page. I’d like to go on and on about how excited and honored and a million other things I am to be a part of this bad-ass anthology, but it would negate any progress I’ve made today on the War Against Adjective Overuse. So instead, I’ll limit myself to urging you to pre-order your own little Piece of the Plague(s). You won’t regret it, like you did with those other plagues!

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Now playing: Kaiser Chiefs – Half the Truth
via FoxyTunes

Happy Memorial Day to all! Hope you all have the day off, and are taking advantage of it with a barbecue– or watching Land of the Lost on SciFi all day. Whatever works. My neighborhood’s been full of folks visiting Arlington National Cemetery and the Air Force Memorial (if I had a back yard, that’s what’d be in it) this weekend, and it’s been a really good reminder. Funny– and sad– how you stop thinking about what those things mean when you see them every day.

If you’ve not been to the Cemetery, by the way, definitely put it on your list next time you’re in town. It’s beautiful.

Not to mention a great reminder of why you shouldn’t fight on the wrong side (which usually means the losing side, but in this case I’m going to say Yay for the Union for multiple reasons) of a war. They’ll take your land and make it into a graveyard. And you end up with a French city planner buried in front of your house. Take that Robert E. Lee!

So here’s your card. No, really, I’m concerned.

And now something actually related to writing. Via Martin Livings and Amanda Pillar today, Horrorscope posted the very first review of Grants Pass. Fabulous! I am so excited to see these stories…

Speaking of which, the Grants Pass bonus stories in the last Three Crow Press were both stellar. I particularly liked Snake Oil by David Priebe– those are the kinds of issues desperate to be explored in a post-apocalyptic world. Great voice, too.

Okay somehow that post went from memorials to L’Enfant to post apocalyptic issues. I either need more coffee, or less. I’m a hedonist, so let’s go with more.

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Now playing: MGMT – Electric Feel
via FoxyTunes

Jodi Lee, a fellow mirror-gazer, is having some issues. Her mirror is trying to come off her wall, apparently.

Dude. Run.

I actually have one of the weirdest, most inspiring mirrors I’ve ever seen right here. My parents have a bar in their basement (see, I get this honestly), so they had some old neon signs and the like over it when I was a kid– and then there was the Champage Girl Mirror, who used to stare at us. She stuck in my mind long after I moved out, and when I started writing Wolfton, exploiting my mirror issues, I had to use her.

Last year I went to WV for a visit and saw her in the garage, sitting on a pile of junk for collection. I grabbed her up and brought her home with me… and have yet to hang her up, because she freaks me right out. So she’s sitting here beside my desk, and Lucy the Mutant Cat comes and paws, and occasionally chatters at her. She’s a little bit scary.

Mostly because it’s just that kitsch. But hey, that counts.

Seriously, I don’t like that look she’s giving me. And yeah. It’s for Taylor Champagne, as an added bonus. Just the kind of thing you’d find sitting in your parents wood-paneled 70s-looking basement, innit? Crazy, the places we find books waiting to be written.

(Obviously I’m hard to scare these days, because I’ve inoculated myself. But I still don’t look at the bathroom mirror until I’ve turned the light on. I’m always pretty sure it won’t be me looking back. That Bloody Mary episode of Supernatural nearly killed me when I finally saw it two months ago.

I’m 28 years old, y’all.)

Also, I wish I could stop listening to this song. But I can’t :/

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Now playing: Kasabian – Fire
via FoxyTunes