While it is beneath me to make excuses for not having posted here in several months, the mortal who provides me with this space has had the temerity to suggest that an explanation for having been so conspicuous by my absence would be appropriate. I weighed my options when he broached the subject to me. I could either rip his lungs from his chest and be done with the onus of continuing this odious obligation, or I could relate my recent activities to anyone who cares to learn how an eight-hundred and twenty-nine year old vampire spends his nights. Apart from seducing beautiful women and drinking their blood, that is.

I will preface my explanation by noting that I recently had occasion to tolerate with as much good grace as I could muster a viewing of a truly abominable film, Interview with the Vampire, based on a novel written by a particularly notorious libeler of my kind, Anne Rice. That last statement may not be altogether accurate, I must grudgingly admit. There is some truth in the basic conceit of her work, that there exists a particularly pusillanimous subspecies of my ilk whose members do gather in clans and clubs and kaffee klatches and much too often venture forth from the embrace of these collectives to wander the Earth bemoaning the emptiness of their existence. These beings disgust me, and the notion of a series of books, much less not one but two films based on their angst-ridden un-lives almost compels me to join with certain mortal factions and assist in their several destructions. They constitute a blight upon our shared condition and an embarrassment to those of us who properly revel in our wickedness. A pox upon them - an opinion not, apparently, shared by Ms Rice. While such beings do exist, I consider it extremely perverse of her to have induced so many of your kind to accept the delusion that the undead are anything other than what we are – devilish monsters who enjoy being bad, and have the skills, talents and abilities to inflict with great pleasure whatever outrage upon a helpless humanity as our capricious natures suggest.

But I digress. I did agree to explain my lapse, and so I shall. Being evil does not necessarily imply that one must avoid certain courtesies. I have of late busied myself with an alternative to Ms Rice’s blasphemies. To whit, I have been assembling material towards a memoir of my own long and varied career among the Undead. I believe I have mentioned that my host here on this blog has been acting in the capacity of my official biographer for some time. Heretofore his efforts have had more to do with those brief intervals when the course of my un-life has intersected the adventures of the mortals who comprise the essence of his writings. I have been incidental to the stories of other characters, and to be truthful, or as truthful as I am capable of being, this has rankled. I have therefore devoted my time since our last meeting to initiating a much more personal retelling of my enterprises. Having forced myself to sit through the film that is the topic for my review in this post is what inspired me to embark upon this endeavor, so you may perceive that this news is not altogether what the computer literate modern world would consider ‘off-topic’.

I did mention above that there are among my kind certain craven examples of the un-dead that are similar to the main characters in the film under consideration. That breed of vampire have on various occasions attempted to inveigle me into joining their idiotic schemes, knowing as they do that it would be better for me to assist rather than oppose them. Alas, these creatures are fairly dull, even more so than as presented in Interview with the Vampire, and their efforts almost always come to naught. If I deign to even acknowledge their attempts to involve me in their plans, I often will actively work against them, at least as long as doing so amuses me. There have been a few occasions when it was necessary to declare war upon their assemblages, for reasons I shan’t go into here except to reiterate that I generally disapprove of too great a degree of vampiric influence on the course of human history. I considered their actions during the late stages of the Renaissance, for example, when they were able to exert more influence than I thought advisable upon a certain series of elections to be more than typically foolish. As I warned them, their plot backfired spectacularly, forcing me to exert myself to a greater degree than pleased me to cleaning up after their ill-advised antics. I despise being forced into the position of engaging in activities of that nature, and my displeasure resulted in a considerable lessening of their numbers for the better part of a century.

I shall not elaborate here; you will have to wait for publication of the larger work to learn how gratuitously nefarious these simpletons have been, and of the great cost their imbecilic machinations have imposed upon the entire population of the planet, living and un-living. In anticipation of that day I have instructed my human to redouble his efforts to complete his narration of the singular episode in my history that we have agreed to call Dead Women in Love. I have granted him the boon of catering to his desire to see it finished and in print before bending his talents, such as they are, to the project I have described above.

I do intend to seek wide publication of my memoir, and in order to hasten its appearance by facilitating my biographer's previously agreed upon project so he will be in a position to exert himself upon my own, much more important one, I have begun the process of locating for us what is referred to as a literary agent. I have not yet approached one, although my mortal has solicited several without any success to date, but I have investigated the process by which an author acquires representation. I have not been pleased by what I have so far learned. It seems that there are vast numbers of mortals contesting against us for the attentions of a limited number of agents. It would be convenient if you would all be so considerate as to gather together in one place, so that I might obliterate our competition en masse with my characteristic élan and finesse, but you have not thus far been so obliging. I have therefore made plans to attend several genre-specific gatherings known as ‘cons’ over the course of the next few months, so you may expect some winnowing of your numbers, but in the meantime my human has taken to urging me to invest in what promises to be a rather ingenious volume of advice related to our needs instead of recruiting an agent through my preferred programme of locating one and forcing her to my will through the expedient of inflicting a small bite upon her neck and therefore taking control of her will. I say her, because I prefer female victims. You will of course excuse my non-politically correct attitude. To that end, I am considering obtaining this work and putting it to its intended use, at least until I can dispose of considerable numbers of our fellow aspiring authors.
One of the great pleasures of my long un-life, one that I credit with preventing me from sinking into the sad, existential despair that characterizes those of my kind whom Ms Rice has chosen to select, inaccurately, as representative of vampires as a species, is the amusement I get from observing the antics of mortals such as the author of the book under consideration, Agent Demystified.

In support of her efforts to educate her fellow authors, she has had created for her a rather amusing video, which you may view here: http://www.authoresspress.com/ Other pertinent details may also be located at that website. I'm certain you will agree that the book trailer is a nicely done example of what, if I have the vernacular correct, is called viral advertising. The cleverness of you mortals in concocting such delights is the very element of your natures that lends my existence so much joy, and adds to my determination that we vampires not intrude too much upon your delusion that you control your destinies, rather than myself and others like me.

Not that I am in any way suggesting that anyone else besides myself purchase this product. I dislike competition, as either a vampire or a writer, so if you aspire to attain publication, do not feel compelled to follow my example in obtaining this book. It will do you no good anyway, as I intend to wipe you and anyone else standing between myself and literary success out of existence at my first opportunity.

As for the film that was the inspiration for needing the advice contained in Agent Demystified, there are so many things wrong with it I can hardly tell where to begin. The protagonist, Louis, is a whiny, puling thing unworthy of being called a vampire. He prefers to sustain himself upon rats than humans. Absolutely appalling! Then, he states during the titular interview that he enjoys looking upon crosses! Why is it that so many of your mortal writers insist upon reducing our kind to something less than the magnificent beings we are? You strip away not only our strengths but also our weaknesses, those very characteristics that make us such interesting creatures. A vampire not repelled by holy symbols cannot correctly be called a vampire, any more than can one who does not drink blood, or is not destroyed by sunlight, or who casts a reflection or has the ability to cross running water. Or cries and moans ad nauseam about how lonely and wasted is his dolorous existence.

The other major character, Lestat, is marginally better. He has all the callous ruthlessness of our kind, but none of the calculating intelligence. The inhabitants of the Parisian theater of the second half of the film are little better, in that they allowed themselves to be decimated by a single member of their tribe, a being possessed of none of the powers that made my own destruction of so many of that breed possible on the occasion referenced above. I did feel some small sympathy for the little girl turned to save her life (of all the ridiculous things!) and therefore condemned to never attain the adult womanhood intended by her creator, but she was ultimately so annoying I quickly lost interest in her dilemma. And in the entire endeavor. My mortal assistant has expressed his opinion that the sequel, Queen of the Damned, is of equally dreadful quality. I have chosen to accept his word on that score.

I have also reluctantly but graciously acceded to his request to allow him to point out that the opinions expressed in this space are my own, and do not necessarily reflect his feelings upon any matter discussed here. On the other hand, he is very much looking forward to reading Agent Demystified, and on that topic we are in agreement. I do not, however, agree with him that we have stooped to, as he dared call it, 'shilling' the young lady's work, since I have made no effort to convince others to follow my example. Quite the contrary, I feel sure that I have been quite clear that other would-be authors pursue their literary aspirations at their own peril.