When I say the characters in my novels come to life, I mean it literally.
Jade Mourning, the main protagonist from my novel Psalm of Vampires, once again dropped in on me while I was dining. I don’t know why he does that. It’s annoying.
He’s done it before:
Yes, he looks a little different there. I can’t explain these things aside from the fact that there are limitations on stock image options out there in the real world, and I tend to eschew AI as much as I can.
“You should run for president,” he said as he appeared in front of me while I was shoving copious amounts of unidentifiable food from Golden Corral into my gullet. “All you need to do is write a bestseller. It doesn’t even have to be good.”
“I wouldn’t be a very good president,” I objected. “I’d imprison half the country for voting for a child rapist.”
“So? Being good at the job is not the point, is it?” he insisted.
In my best Jon Stewart voice, I said, “Go awwwwnnnnn.”
“Who are the most underrepresented people on this planet?” he asked. “Us.” He pointed to his chest, which was covered in a shirt that looked cut from cheap red satin. “Moi. And the House of Argeadai. And other vampire houses.”
“Well, to be frank, there’s not much left of the House of Argeadai. There’s like, one of you.”
Jade shrugged. “All you need to do,” he continued, “is write a bestseller. I suggest calling it A Vampire Elegy, since that’s a proven model.”
“What proven model are you talking about?”
“Something something Elegy. I’ve got about a hundred dead family members I’m ready to throw under the bus. Also? Vampire stories sell.”
“Not mine,” I whined.
“It will. Just gotta stick with it. It’s about me, after all. I even play a banjo in the first novel, just like the hillbillies in that other elegy book. You know, that one by that kooky vice-president you clowns elected.”
“That was a mandolin you played,” I corrected.
“Whatever, dude. Small-assed stringed instrument that most people don’t want to hear.”
“I like mandolins. And banjos. Anyway, if people don’t want to hear it, why did you play it?” I asked.
“To annoy the cops. Didn’t you read your own book?”
I shrugged. I wasn’t much interested in talking to Jade because he had promised a bestseller when he told me his story, and all I got was one review and occasional, unwelcome visits from the undead.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, pointing his finger at my chest.
“That’s alarming,” I responded, shoving a few chicken wings into my mouth.
“You’re thinking you’ve gained nothing from this relationship,” he said. “You know, money isn’t everything. Why do they call those things chicken wings? They’re not chicken wings. They’re chicken tenders. Wings have bones. This is seriously one of the dumbest societies I’ve ever had to live through.”
“Tell me about it,” I said, wiping the sauce dripping down my chin with a napkin.
“This brings me, of course, back to the new novel. A Vampire Elegy will sell a quadzillion copies and will upload you immediately into presidential frontrunner status.” He looked around. “These people really are that dumb.”
“Wait a minute,” I objected.
He shrugged.
“For one thing,” I said. “I don’t want to be president. For another, you just insulted me.”
He looked at me with pleading eyes like he does when he wants my sympathy over things like family slaughters.
“For another,” I added, “like I said, the last one sold, like, a hundred copies or something.”
“That’s because you’re a shit marketer. If you posted those pics to Instagram I sent you like other normal humans would, you’d be driving that Rivian you said you wanted.”
“You were wearing a jockstrap with an OnlyFans logo in those pictures, Jade.”
“Exactly.”
I sighed.
“The only problem with my scheme, as I see it,” he continued, “is that you’d have to appeal to the wrong crowd. You’d probably need to start marketing to the right-wing crowd.”
“Oh, joy. But why is that? There’s plenty of normal people who like vampire stories.”
“Yeah, but they’re not the stupid kind of people we need to elevate you to frontrunner status. People who vote for celebrities and such. Remember Ronald Reagan?”
“I’ve spent 40 years failing miserably at forgetting about him. Anyway, not only am I not a celebrity, Jade, but if I became one, I’d probably move to Antarctica where nobody can find me. I don’t like cameras.”
“I said ‘and such.’ You don’t need to put your face out there. I can be the face of all this.”
“Then why don’t you just run for president instead?”
Jade grinned from ear to ear, suddenly not concerned about revealing his canines to the Golden Corral crowd. “That’s a great idea,” he said. “Given this society’s propensity for self-destruction, I’d be the obvious choice.”
I shrugged. “I guess you’ll be going now, then. You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you.”
“I just need to get interviewed by Joe Scarborough every day for a month. How hard can that be?”
“Wait, what?” I asked as I plowed more food into my mouth.
“You know, Morning Joe? That’s what won the primaries for Trump in 2016. Dude. You write a political blog, and you don’t know that?”
“I don’t write a political blog. I just bitch and moan a lot, like the rest of America. And yes, I knew that, but I don’t think Scarborough is relevant anymore. Try Joe Rogan.”
“He’s that podcast guy, right?”
“Yes,” I said. “He’s that podcast guy. Off you go.”
“Think he’d like me?”
“Yes, Jade, he’d adore you. You should visit him now. Drain a little of his blood while you’re there.”
“Like, right there on the podcast. Brilliant. That could be my I could shoot someone on Fifth Avenue moment. Will you run my campaign? You’d obviously be good at that.”
“Only if you make me Minister of War,” I said, stabbing at a bloody steak.
“Done. Which country will we invade first?”
“All of them.”
“Under the pretext of regime change like the current guy?”
“No Jade, that’s an insider trading scam. I dunno, man, something else. There’s always a good reason to let the military play with their new toys.”
“What about economic policy? What should our economic policy be?” Jade started picking at pickles.
I shrugged. “Everything is free,” I said. “Housing, education, boats.”
“Boats?”
“Yeah, boats. We confiscate every yacht in the world and give them to American citizens.”
“There are that many yachts?”
“Yeah. All owned by about a hundred people.”
In the end, we decided that Jade would run for President because the last time America had a presidential election, I stroked out. 1
“We can’t have you stroke out during a presidential debate,” said Jade. “You might start mumbling shit about people eating cats and dogs.”
Notes
A sequel for Psalm of Vampires is in the works, but I don’t think it will be called A Vampire Elegy. But it might be. Who knows?
You can view the first three chapters of Psalm of Vampires beginning here:
As always, thanks for reading!
Footnotes
True story! The day before the 2024 election, FFS.