Vampires, Imagined and Historical

Much of the modern lore of vampires originates from a place called Transylvania, in part, due to the literary influence of Bram Stoker's original masterpiece, Dracula.  While many people know that, fewer know exactly where this is, and the history surrounding it.

Transylvania is located in what is now Romania, just to the west of the Black Sea in Eastern Europe.  The earliest mention of it as a political entity was in the 11th century, when it was a province under the Kingdom of Hungary.  It has also been a part of the Ottoman Empire, the Habsburg Monarchy, and the Kingdom of Romania.

The region of Transylvania is a temperate plateau, bordered on several sides by the Carpathian Mountains, and most well known for farmlands and castles, many of which have been the inspiration for literary works such as Dracula.  In German and a number of Eastern European languages, the region's name translates to English as "seven cities" or "seven fortresses," a tribute to the colonization of the area by Saxons in the 12th century.

The Hunyad Castle, Transylvania, Romania, © Wikipedia user Koponya25

While Bram Stoker's novel has influenced much of the English-speaking world's view of Transylvania, stories from the region itself influenced Stoker to write it in the first place.  A Hungarian writer friend of Stoker's, Arminius Vámbéry, is said to have shared with him much of the Eastern European folklore, legends, and mythology that formed the basis for the original manuscript of Dracula.

The name Dracula comes from the historical figure Vlad III, Voivode of Wallachia.  His actual name was Wladislaus Dragwlya, of the House of "Drăculești," or translated, Vlad III Dracula.  He was the son of Vlad II Dracul, the patronymic whence the name Dracula originated.

Dubbed "Vlad the Impaler" after his death in late 1476 or early 1477, he was both hero and villain, depending on source of the tales about him.  In Romania, he was revered for his protection and defense of the country; to his enemies, he was a terrifying conqueror known for torturing and executing those he defeated in the cruelest of ways.

Vlad Ţepeş, the Impaler, Prince of Wallachia, anonymous, 16th Century, Public Domain

Folklore involving the dead is quite common, and is the source of much of the vampire lore of today.  One tale that may have been related to Stoker by his friend Arminius Vámbéry is the tale of Petar Blagojević, an 18th century peasant from the town of Kisilova (now Kiseljevo), in northeastern Serbia.  Petar died in 1725.  His death was followed shortly by the deaths of a number of other villagers, each who died rather quickly after short, mysterious illnesses.  A large number of people died in the village the year Petar died, including over thirty children.  The survivors traced these deaths directly back to Petar as those who died claimed on their deathbeds to have been visited by him.

Most of the residents in the tiny village don't care to relate the tale.  To them, it's a stigma on the town that drives others away.  But some talk, if asked nicely enough.  As the story goes, the night it all started was dark and ominous, heavy with fog.  Nine people died in a span of just eight days, each claiming on his deathbed to have been visited by Petar, who had been the first to die.  Before they died, each victim said that Petar had come to their beds and had choked them during the night.  Petar's wife also claimed he had visited her in a dream, asking for shoes.  Other accounts say that Petar's son was brutally murdered after refusing to give him food when he came back to visit.  The mysterious deaths continued.

Village authorities finally ordered Petar exhumed, a full two months after his death.  He was allegedly found in the opened grave, still partially alive.  He had not rotted as a corpse should have; he was still lifelike, his lips still with fresh blood in them.  The villagers were so frightened by this that they demanded action be taken, even against the wishes of the local Austrian official.  They pulled Petar from the grave, stabbed his heart with a sharpened stick, and then for good measure, burned his body at the stake.

After Petar's death and the successive deaths of many more in the village, rumors of what was happening there spread to officials in the local Austrian government in Beograd.  Frombald, the Imperial Austrian head of the locality released a report to the Viennese newspaper, documenting the first recorded instance of vampires in Europe.  And at the request of Frombald, the Austrian military government dispatched a consignment of men to determine whether there were real vampires there, and if so, to determine if it signified the start of a vampire epidemic.

Ultimately, the Austrian commission could not make a determination, but that didn't stop the spread of rumors and tales of spreading, nor did it stop people from taking preventive measures against an outbreak of vampires, real or imagined.  Other such stories exist of vampires in the area at that time.  In each, the bodies of the dead were said to have looked alive, with fresh blood, and newly grown fingernails and hair.  A rash of such incidents of "vampire eradication" spread, where the newly dead were exhumed from their graves, staked in the heart, and burned.

Even today, the legend remains in the village.  Many of the younger generation are leaving, whether because of the tales or just to find work elsewhere, it's hard to say.  But the village is dying.  Few but the oldest denizens are left.  They remain, as does Petar Blagojević, who is still said to haunt the area.  A curse has even originated from the village: "Dabogda te Pera posetio!" - "May Peter visit you!"

The Premature Burial, by Antoine Wiertz, Public Domain

But is there scientific evidence vampires existed?  Maybe.  A while back in Poland, archaeologists found "vampire graves" on a construction site.  The remains buried there were decapitated, and their heads placed on their legs to ensure they stayed dead.  This finding is in line with the older, broader definition of vampires from the Middle Ages, but as with the story of Petar Blagojević, we find little in the way of empirical data.

In the field of medicine, there are a couple of interesting maladies that share symptoms with the more common legends of vampires.  Porphyria is one such malady, a genetic disorder that causes blisters, itching, and swelling of the skin when exposed to sunlight.  Other medical conditions which might lend themselves to such legends are catalepsy and catatonia, which cause states of unresponsiveness, something that without adequate medical training or facilities available could be mistaken for death.  Again, nothing that would indicate evidence of actual vampirism, but possible evidence explaining the root causes of such tales and superstitions.

The Vampire, by Philip Burne-Jones, 1897, Public Domain

So while there is no solid evidence supporting vampirism, the folklore remains.  The story of Peter Blagojević and others like it are quite common, and aren't confined to lore from Eastern Europe or the Balkans.  Vampire stories are rife throughout Western Europe, the Americas, and the rest of the world.  In fact, there are versions of the vampire found in almost every culture on Earth.

As with many such legends, most can be traced back to old wives' tales which attempt to put the inexplicable into terms which could be coped with, as strange as such terms may sound now.  Many of the signs of life as reported in these vampire tales can be explained by modern medicine as the signs of rigor mortis, or other common effects of death in a body.

But just as importantly, all such legends aren't likely to be completely disproved, leaving room for that one minute sliver of doubt in the mind, that one single thought in the back of the subconscious that allows us, every great once in a while, to believe they are true.

Quick note: several of the links in this post are in Serbian-Croatian, which is fine if you can understand them.  For those who can't, I suggest dropping the Internet addresses for them into Google and clicking on the "Translate this page" link.  It'll provide a rather shitty auto-translation that should get the job done for you.

Writing Advice from the Masters

So there's a lot of writing advice out there.  A lot of it's great.  Some of it stinks.  I've even thrown my two amateur cents into the ring from time to time, whether good, bad or otherwise.  It all has some merit, though, when weighed with a grain of salt or two.  After all, many great authors differ greatly with the advice they give on writing.  And one can still learn from mistakes and bad advice, just as they can from the good.

On that note, I thought it fitting to compile some advice clips from the masters of the craft, those to whom we look to as the ultimate experts of the trade.  Here are ten authors talking about various aspects of storytelling.  Enjoy and learn as I did.

Ray Bradbury on writing persistently:

The most interesting part of this is how he would send short story after short story out, and wait for the rejections.  This is something I've done countless times, and at about the same ages.  Always the rejections.  I looked forward to them, to each one, hopefully with some tidbit of personal advice upon which to learn and grow.  I have close to 300 of them from short stories alone, most collected during my teens and early twenties, tucked away as mementos to perseverance and to giving my heart and soul to writing.  Most of the time between then and now has been spent writing, honing, perfecting; not trying to get published.  I've been too often in parts of the world where it was just not conducive to querying.  It's always been on my mind, even in places as foreign as Afghanistan, as quite a few rejections will testify to.

Elmore Leonard on hard work, characters, descriptions, and rhythm in writing:

"I made myself get up at five o'clock every morning to write fiction.  I had a rule that I had to begin writing, get into whatever the scene was, before I could put the coffee on.  If I hadn't done that, I don't think I'd be sitting here today."  That is a pretty powerful impetus for sitting down on your ass and cranking the words out.  Probably makes most of us, even the more successful ones, a little chagrined, more eager to jump back into a story again.  He's absolutely dead on - at least in my case - about writing four pages for every one quality page.  Writing is rewriting.  The one thing I can't agree with is writing longhand.  I've done it before, and just can't stand it.  Give me a good ol' word processor every day of the week.  That way I can go back and change a word mid-stroke when I realize it wasn't the best choice to use.

Stephen King on writing short stories:

So interesting his view on why people don't read short stories as much anymore.  He attributes it to laziness, which is probably a large percentage of the truth.  The other percentage, I think, is the way stories are promulgated to the public.  We aren't satisfied with a single peek at something.  We have to have more.  Even a movie or a single book isn't enough.  We have to have trilogies and series and goddamn sagas!  Let it never end!  And yet a short story does just that.  It's like the one night stand of literature, that fleeting kiss in the night, never to be continued, but only remembered for its fiery brevity.  I absolutely love short stories.  And in today's world of short attention span theater, and fear of commitment, I don't know how the short story isn't more popular than it is.

Kurt Vonnegut on writing short stories:

Short, sweet advice, just like a short story.  But it's some of the best advice I've ever heard.  And the thing is, all these words of wisdom are just as applicable to writing novels as they are to shorter works.  We see professionals in the literary business talking about how stories just don't start fast enough, that there's too much pre-story or world building, or character development happening before the actual story starts.  Vonnegut's advice on starting the story as close to the end as possible is just as good in these cases as it is for a piece of flash fiction.  Start with the action, make your characters want something, and then take it away from them.

Neil Gaiman with advice for new writers:

His advice, apart from going out and actually living and seeing the world is spot on. If you want to write, you have to write. The elves aren't going to magic your book into finished form. You're not going to get a sudden epiphany one day and churn out a book, slavering over an old fashioned typewriter like the classics. You're not friggin' Snoopy, sitting on your doghouse, pecking out that great work of literature without a flaw. You're going to make mistakes. You're going to write absolute crap. God knows I have. And you'll learn from it. You'll edit like there's no tomorrow, and when you're done, the finished product will look nothing like what you started with. And it's all because you wrote, and wrote, and wrote. And wrote some more.

Margaret Weiss talks with R.A. Salvatore on collaboration and how gaming affects fantasy books:

The most interesting part of this interview for me is hearing about collaboration. A story of any size is very personal; it's probably one of the most intimately personal pieces of creativity there is, and sharing that with anyone can create some complex and often problematic issues. It appears that one of the reasons why Margaret Weiss and Tracy Hickman have been so successful writing fantasy together is the way they have worked together. Each person has specific tasks and goals, each a certain chunk of the story they are responsible for. With less overlap, there is less a chance that the artistic vision of one author will clash with that of the other.

Louis L'Amour talks about historical accuracy and research in writing:

One thing he mentions later in this interview is his trademark lack of profanity. While he grew up in among a very rough crowd, he never saw the need for it. He didn't feel it was appropriate to use profanity, and that using it was often a crutch for a "lack of real skill". While I'll sprinkle my stories with profanity where necessary, L'Amour has a very good point - one shouldn't have to use it at all to get the point across. In the end, I'd opine that it's fine if used as a part of one's style; not if used as a crutch.

Chuck Palahniuk with a succinct analogy on writer's block:

Slightly crude or not, his point is made. And that's really the thing. Many writers advise one to write every day, to write nonstop. But Palahniuk's advice is simpler: if you don't have anything to write, there's no sense trying to force it out. But I think it goes deeper than that, and is something that is nuanced in what he says here. Many writers have tons of great ideas, filling their heads and overflowing onto the written page, whether they like it or not. But they don't have those ideas without living, without gaining experiences, because those experiences are what feed the ideas necessary to write.

Garrison Keillor with some advice to writers:

"Get out of the house," he says, and he's right, because writing isn't just about the author. In fact, I'd argue it's exactly the opposite. Writing has almost nothing to do with the writer, and everything to do with the reader. It's the reader's experience that brings a book to life, not the writer's. If you don't go out and experience life, relate to others, stay tuned to what's happening in the world, you'll end up writing a bunch of self-absorbed pretentious crap that nobody wants to read.

John Irving with encouragement to new writers:

It's tougher today than ever before to break through in this industry. The competition is not only an increasingly larger number of writers, but it's also tougher. The talent pool is larger. But that shouldn't mean discouragement. Rather it should be incentive to work all that much harder. It takes a lot to really produce a quality work of art, no matter the medium, and the higher the competition level, the better the best work is going to be.

Watching these videos, we get rather common themes from them. Write often. Read a lot. Get out there and live. Persevere. Write a variety of genres and lengths. Experiment. But over all, write, write, write. And then write some more.

Finding One's Voice

I find it odd, this thing called voice.  I read quite a wide variety of authors, both classic and contemporary, and with the good ones, no matter the genre, voice is always king.

Fellow Pacific Northwest native Tom Robbins, of which I've spoken before, has one of the most distinguishable voices there is.  His voice is magnificent!  It rises from whatever depths necessary to envelop the reader with pearls of wisdom, still wrapped in the gooey funk of the underdeep.  He grabs the reader by the stack and swivels, and woos you face to face with his wisdom and wit, whether you like it or not.  He's the only author I know who shatters George Carlin's plea on writing:

The only story I know of where clouds are important was Noah’s Ark!

- George Carlin

Tom Robbins does better than that.  "A rank of ample black clouds had been double-parked along the western horizon like limousines at a mobster’s funeral. Rather suddenly now, they wheeled away from the long green curb and congregated overhead, where, like overweight yet still athletic Harlem Globetrotters, they bobbed and weaved, passing lightning bolts trickily among themselves while the wind whistled 'Sweet Georgia Brown,'" he writes in Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates.  And in another novel, I forget which at the moment, he describes clouds as "nuns having a pillow fight".

That's voice, folks, pure voice.  Few others can equal that ability to trick images to leap into our minds from a few carefully placed words on a page.  None can mimic that exact cadence and poetry he employs.  And even if he's just talking about the weather - something writers are constantly advised not to do - you want to keep on reading.

Robbins isn't alone in displaying a unique, discernible voice.

Stephen King has a voice.  So much so that people called him out on his pseudonym Richard Bachman, because after a few novels they had it figured out, just by the sound of the voice.  His voice is one of the things that sets him apart from other authors, and one of the main reasons I believe he's had so much success.

David Eddings had a unique voice as well.  So much so that one could easily identify the author just by reading a few passages of his character's dialogue.  His dry, sardonic humor seeped into his characters so well that it made them easily recognizable and made them react in familiar manners when faced with obstacles in the plot.

And that, I think, is one of the problems of having such a distinctive voice.  All authors put so much of themselves into their work that it shows through in every character, every passage of narration.  But by doing that, they give it a sense of sameness, of consistency.  And while this is good for the overall tone of the book, it has a tendency, as we've seen with some of Eddings' writing, to give all the characters a similar voice.  And if they all sound the same, it's hard to make them unique.

A certain adaptation to character is needed.

It would be nice to have a certain way of adapting to whatever voice was needed at the time, a kind of Joss Whedon's Dollhouse way of slipping into a character and making it your own.  To create characters with a sort of schizophrenia, allowing completely different personalities to seep into each.  This is why perhaps, a pool of writers such as in a television series allows a more diverse group of characters.  It's easier for different writers to focus on different characters, instead of pouring themselves into each one.

And it seems some characters lend themselves more easily to voice than others.  I have one in particular who is so insistent on being an individual that he stands out easily from the others.  He's less subtle, I guess, which helps.  He's a little harder to write because he's over the top a bit, and yet I don't want him to come across as too much so.  It would create too much of a caricature out of him, when what I really need is just the emotional energy he provides.

I think a distinctive voice comes down to two things, and both stem from copious amounts of writing.

The first is experience, simple time spend pounding the words into story.  The more you do that, the more your voice begins to take shape and the less it imitates your sources of inspiration.  You begin to see how to hone your writing, to delete excess words, identify overused words, and craft tighter sentences.  All of this lends to your voice, making it more distinct and more identifiable as yours.

The second thing necessary is an understanding of your characters.  The more a writer knows about a character, the more distinctive their voice becomes.  When they're loosely shelled out, with vague goals and moods, they're harder to define.  They have no substance, no value behind what they do and say; they're simply doing or saying those things to advance the plot.  When that happens, they fall short as believable characters.

In the end, it's just hard work.

It takes time to hone one's voice.  Time spent cloistered away from living companionship, lost with those who live only in your own mind.  It takes hours and days and months and years sitting there, crafting words, blowing them up, and crafting them all over again.  Even a cursory look at the great writers will show that they put their devotion to writing above all else.  They prioritized it, even when they had to work other jobs to put food on the table.

They say it takes 10,000 hours of doing anything to master it.  I think I've easily surpassed that mark, probably years ago.  But I think that's just the first tiny step in the longer journey of honing one's voice and mastery of storytelling.  There is always much room for improvement, and still so very much to learn.

Horror at the Core of the Human Soul

October is upon us, which means we're staring down a full month of horror.  Great thing for us horror aficionados.  Ah, horror!  How you make my heart thud unnecessarily fast when I'm watching a movie or reading a book.  I know I'm personally not in danger, but that doesn't make me less squeamish or jumpy at all the right parts.

Amnityville, © Doug Kerr

But aside from the obvious - gore and blood and sudden violence - we think of when we're reminded of the genre, I'd like to delve into horrors of a different kind.  Those that really make you feel it in your gut, sometimes long after the fact.  And sometimes it even takes a while before the real horror of what you saw or read really sinks in.  That's the best kind of horror to me.

Right now, I'm reading HORNS, by Joe Hill, which is a great way to break in the month of October.  It's a fantastically disturbing horror novel, very well written, and in fact one of the best I've read in a long time.  But the disturbing parts aren't shock horror.  No, they're the inner workings of the minds of supporting characters, and they're disturbing because reading it, you feel it hits way too close to home for comfort.  After all, it would be more than a little shocking to discover what people actually thought about you, especially people you loved and trusted.  Downright awful when you find out just how little they think of you.

HORNS, © Joe Hill, used by permission.

I think most people would jump at the chance to be able to catch a glimpse of the minds of those around them, to see what they're really thinking about us no matter what they say.  But for every awesome thought we discover someone has about us, I'm afraid we'd find several hurtful and hate-filled ones.  Now maybe I'm just too much of a cynic, but humankind's seeming inability to keep their inner monologue of snark, angst, and downright nastiness from surfacing everywhere from real life to social media makes me think I'm not that far from the mark.  The novelty would soon wear off into the horror of what you've seen and the dread of what you know is still to come.

I've always enjoyed psychological horror over any other type.  When you get right down to it, it's much scarier than anything physical.  But to get it to really sink in, sometimes you gotta look it in the eye a little longer, stare it down and really let it get to you.  Let it affect you how it wants, not how you let it affect you.  Sometimes it takes you places you don't want to go, places you didn't know even existed within the human soul.

Isn't that what defines horror, after all?  Isn't it simply that which unpleasantly jolts the human psyche?  Blood and gore scratch the surface with a physical reaction, but psychological horror jolts the human soul.  It's easy to imagine a long list of that which horrifies us the most, but I'm betting at the top of that list are things that bare your soul to the public eye, that which lays back all the layers of protection and pares away the falsely modest confessions and admissions and really digs to the heart of the matter.  If there were no governor on the mechanism that allows us to open our souls to others, this world would be a dark place indeed.

The Death Penalty, © Truthout.org

It won't be completely bad, however.  That's where hope comes in.  Like Pandora's box, all things bad are countered by one small thing - hope.  You hope you're right.  You hope things will turn out alright.  You hope you haven't gone too far to take it all back.  Sometimes you have, but regardless of the depth of the situation, there's always hope.  Take away that and your recipe for true horror is complete.