A couple of weeks ago, I was looking at the new YA books in my local library. Vampire, vampire, vampire. Vampire schools. Vampire this. Vampire that.
I didn't even take them off the shelf. I used to enjoy the occasional vampire book, but, come on, publishers. This is getting ridiculous.
Then by way of Oz and Ends I learned of Pinocchio: Vampire Slayer. In a graphic novel, no less.
Perhaps that's the will to read vampire fiction that I feel stirring within me.
Training Report: Two segments for the 365 Story Project, and not much planned for the rest of the week. Then I decided to work on this essay I started last week. Or the week before. And while going through my Word files, I found that I had done six pages on this topic...I don't know. Last year, maybe? How mortifying! How lame is that?
Except, Zen suggests that instead of being horrified at my ineptitude, I should be grateful. Hey, I had a much better start on this thing than I thought, and did some more on it today. So, yeah. Om. Grateful.
I'm so sick of it, too. And the worst thing is that I fear that though I love fantasy and wanted to write it, nothing else I write will be taken to as easily and quickly as fantasy. Which makes me grimly determined to write something else...
ReplyDeleteI wrote "Pinocchio: Vampire Slayer" and have to confess to being sick of vampires also.
ReplyDeleteYou might find our book a little different, though. It casts back to the origins of the vampire myth. It's also just a fun story of Pinocchio staking vampires with his nose.
Thanks for the link, and I promise not to write anything about zombies!