Monday morning call*

I've been running out of inspiration, which helps explaining why I'm not updating this blog as much as I used to. It's not just with this blog, mind you, it's in general. Last night I tried to do something I haven't done for a while, to pick up my fiction and try to write something. Gave up after forty minutes. Futile exercise. Something has been amiss for almost two years. I have some ideas, but I am unable to make them alive on paper. Lacking inspiration, state-of-mind, patience, I don't know. Lacking, in general. What? Don't ask. I cannot answer. I dare not answer. Sometimes I wonder if I should change my routines. It's obvious that I should. Start eating in time. Start practicing my cooking more. Go to bed one hour earlier every day, not to sleep but to read a book, a magazine, some essay on something I would find interesting. Today I'm going to buy Bram Stoker's Dracula, if the usual bookstore doesn't fail me. As I was saying to my girlfriend earlier, I'm sick and tired of gaypire stories, just as I'm sick and tired of the politically correct that is devouring our language. One day, when I get inspired again and start writing my fiction again, I'll be pressed to eliminate the vampires from it, as they are too ridiculous in nowadays' fantasy fiction (no offense meant for real fantasy authors). Screw that: my vampires will remain. Their role is minor anyway, but one too interesting (according to me) to leave out. I'm not sure if the worlds I write about there is something as holy water or a crucifix for them to fear, but my vampires, the Southern Wastes' vampires, they do not walk under the sunlight (I know this ain't canonic, all right?), they do not sparkle, they do not attend college, they don't perform ridiculous so-called satanic rituals. They are wicked and wise, they hunt at night for blood and they fight against their foes, sword in hand, they are skilled necromancers. Male vampires are strong, cunning, restless, bloodthirsty. Female vampires' strenght resides on their guile and their capacity to tempt and doom helpless souls, even if they too can pick up a sword. In short, a succubi. My good friend Daniel, who doesn't read this blog (the bastard), once asked me if it wasn't a good thing that nowadays' authors are innovating on the avaliable material. Depends on what we call innovation. I'm all for refreshing ideas. Just don't count on me if you want to turn one of the most interesting (and sexy) creatures of folklore and fantasy lore into a bunch of pussies for teenage girls' mass comsumption.

*should name this column "monday morning rant", I know.