Today, I want to share a guest post I once penned for VampChix/Bite Club.
The Gift That Keeps On Giving
I’m so excited to be today’s guest blogger at VampChix & Bite Club! It’s an amazing site in its own right, but it’s also the site where I achieved two personal milestones. Back in November, just a few days after the release of Vaempires: Revolution, Michele gave me the honor of offering my first ever guest blog… now, six months later, she invited me to offer the concluding blog of my first ever Blog Tour.
Those aren’t the only times I’ve been here, but they are the most significant. I can’t thank Michele—and all of you—enough for the continued interaction and support.
On the subject of milestones: my younger brother turns forty today. I’ve waited eighteen long months for him to accompany me in the over-40 club, so please help me wish him a virtual “Happy Birthday.”
For my part, I’m still reeling from the emotional and psychological shock of turning forty. I knew it was coming, of course, so it wasn’t a matter of being intellectually unprepared—I simply hadn’t fully recovered from turning thirty a short decade earlier.
I don’t feel forty. I mean, yeah, my body feels it—a little more each day, if I’m going to bare my soul here—but my mind doesn’t. I still like video games and comic books and playing sports. I still go to amusement parks. I still jump in puddles with my nephew.
I’m still a child at heart. I feel it. Sometimes, I act it—although infrequently and only in private, lol. It isn’t necessarily endearing, either, but it is what it is (and other trite statements). When I speak with my contemporaries about this, many admit to feeling (and acting) the same way. However, a small percentage does not. While the responses of those people can range from baffled, to concerned, to morally outraged, it is important to note that they, in fact, comprise a very small percentage of the control group and are therefore considered outliers (or just plain ol’ liars, because there’s no way they don’t feel that way … they just won’t admit it).
Still, there is one thing I know as true: my parents sure as heck didn’t seem to be children at heart when they were forty. Now, I realize that it was a different time and that they were from a different generation. They grew up during the Cold War—now, there’s a title for a militaristic vampire saga—they were poster children for corporal punishment, and they didn’t even have cable. Heck, when they turned forty the guy in the White House was older than their parents.
When I turned forty, we had globalization, Eckhart Tolle helping us toward a spiritual awakening, and reality shows in which, no matter how bad we may feel (or life may get), we can always find someone worse off than we are. We even have the Internet, and blogs, where we can bemoan turning forty or talk about the books we write. Heck, when I turned forty, the guy occupying the White House was less than ten years older than me.
However, even more important was the fact that, when I turned forty, the world was just learning that one of the most famed presidents of all time had been a vampire hunter—and that, ladies and gentlemen, brings me to the point of this blog:
I want to be a vampire.
No, ha ha, I don’t want to be hunted; not by Honest Abe or anyone else. I don’t want to be a pretend vampire like some people out there, either. I don’t even want to seduce young women or slowly build an army of undead to take over the world.
I just want to be an honest-to-goodness vampire.
And live forever.
The thought of living forever makes me giddy. Not in a silly schoolgirl way but in an oh-so-happy way (disclaimer: I’m not being sexist here; I’ve simply never seen a silly schoolboy who was giddy. I’ve seen silly schoolboys who were gaudy, gaga, gabby, and even grubby … but never one that I would characterize as giddy. Still, I could be wrong. Maybe I don’t know giddy when I see it. Perhaps my definition or understanding of giddy was irreparably skewed by my upbringing and/or experiences. Perhaps I had too much nature and not enough nurture. Or vice versa. Or some combination thereof that’s frowned upon somewhere. In fact, maybe I should just keep my mouth shut at all times. *sigh* Nevertheless, that doesn’t mean giddy schoolboys don’t exist or that I don’t believe schoolboys should be giddy. Of course they do! And of course they should! Perhaps it’s just safer if I say “not in a silly schoolchild way”).
Anyway … just imagine all I could do with forever before me. I could finally read all the books in my TBR pile. I could watch everything on the DVR. I could even think of new and creative abbreviations, like BUR (being undead rules) and IAV2 (I’m a vampire, too) to tweet.
I could finally learn how to tie a tie or make a really good bolognaise sauce or even discover the connection between meta tags and extraterrestrial life.
The possibilities are endless.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I believe that that lure of immortality is the single-most important factor in the continuing popularity of vampires.
It doesn’t mean the other factors are insignificant. I realize that legions of fans love the otherworldly mannerisms, the overt sexuality, and the enhanced senses and abilities (alas, not sensibilities) of our vampire creations—just not as much as the never-ending lifespan.
And even the paranormal romance fans—who loooove the dark, brooding, bare-chested males glowering at us from shelf after shelf of the local bookstore—wouldn’t have the patience and the empathy (and, I daresay, the desire) for the aforementioned heroes if those heroes weren’t so tragically … painfully … complicatedly … immortal.
So much of early vampire fiction revolved around a vampire’s desire to escape, and a human’s desire to avoid, such insufferable immortality. Well, I say, “To hell with that!”
I don’t want to grow any older and I sure as heck don’t want to meet my maker. Someone please turn me into a vampire before it’s too late! I’ll choose endless hunger (or a soulless existence, or a perpetual chill) over endless sleep, any day.
It’s my brother’s birthday, but I want immortality—the gift that keeps on giving.
Where’s my Edward?