Ariadne, John William Waterhouse

I’ve downgraded the word count to 80,000. I may go pass that, but not in this draft, I think. Last week I left Gaius staring his problem in the face and worked on Ferrant’s portion, now I’m back to Gaius. A tiny idea has blossomed into a new story sequence and I’m ready to write the first scene in the sequence this morning, only it’s always hard getting into a new scene. That first sentence scampers about like a frightened little mouse, eluding my grasp. Even though I know what my aims are, I’m always at a lost for those first words.

Continuing with my passion for vampire films, last night’s Netflix darling was a Romanian-made  film, Vampire Journals. The vampires were sophisticated, and the film used the classic tropes–pale as bone, alluring, blood-drinking, night beings with the power of speed and flight. The setting was wonderful, an elegantly decayed East European city, perhaps Romanian, a decadent night club run by the vampire villain, and a very gothic atmosphere. A tale of pursuit and vengeance. Both hero and villain were vampires, and the heroine was a young American concert pianist. Seeking revenge for the loss of his vampire lover, the hero–loathing what he was, hunted and killed other vampires–sought to destroy the villain, a master vampire, and all in his bloodline. I liked it. And, oh yeah, an interesting thing was done that I’d not seen done before–when the master vampire- who was thousands of years old, fell into death-sleep at dawn, he became a decayed corpse, and when he reawakened, he metamorphosed to a human appearance again. Will have to see if I can find a copy of this film for sale.