Tell us a little about yourself and how you became a fan and later a writer of science fiction.
One of my earliest memories is being taken to see Destroy All Monsters at the drive-in movie theater by my parents in 1968, when I was three years old. That got me hooked. TV was full of monster and fantasy movies back then. Adventure Theater on Saturday afternoons alternated between Buster Crabbe’s Tarzan movies and Ray Harryhausen’s Sinbad extravaganzas. Every Saturday night Creature Features cycled through the Universal monster series, the 1950s giant bug movies, and all those spooky atomic holocaust/end-of-the-world flicks. But the movies that really pushed my buttons were the Planet of the Apes films. The first one I saw in the theater was Beneath the Planet of the Apes, which really creeped me out (but in a good way). I pretty much learned to read through comic books. My father bought me Iron Man comics. My mom knew I liked monsters, so she bought me Werewolf by Night and Tomb of Dracula.
My fourth grade teacher gave our class the assignment of putting together a literary magazine. I decided to write a story about a lonely little boy, his scientist father, and the thirty-foot-long mechanical Tyrannosaurus Rex the father builds as a pal for his son. Of course, the father gets kidnapped by gangsters who want to use ol’ Tyran for a bank heist, and the little boy and his mechanical pal have to go to the rescue. I’ll never forget standing in line at the school cafeteria and having this whole story play out visually in my head like a movie on an internal screen.
I wrote that first story when I was eight. When Fat White Vampire Blues came out in 2003, I was thirty-eight. There’s a thirty year apprenticeship in there. For my bar mitzvah and received oodles of gift certificates from my local Waldenbooks. I spent my gift certificates on Silverberg books, Anne McCaffrey’s “Dragons of Pern” novels, and John Clute’s wonderful Illustrated Encyclopedia of Science Fiction, which provided me with an inexhaustible reading list. Three close buddies and I worked on a fanzine, The Dragon Reader, that started out as an homage to Anne McCaffrey’s books but took so long to pull together — almost three years — that it ended up having nothing to do with Anne or Pern or dragons. We took fifty copies to Noreascon 2, the 1980 Worldcon in Boston, hoping to sell them and recoup our printing costs. We gave away half and brought the rest home. Years later, in 1994, I took a course at the University of New Orleans Metropolitan College called “World Building: Writing Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror,” taught by award-winning SF writer George Alec Effinger. I joined George’s writing critique group after finishing his class, and I workshopped my first genre novel, Fire on Iron. The next book I wrote was Fat White Vampire Blues, which my workshop group loved and which I was able to sell to Del Rey/Ballantine Books in 2002. They published it in 2003, along with its sequel, Bride of the Fat White Vampire, in 2004.
Fat White Vampire Blues has been compared to John Kennedy Toole’s classic A Confederacy of Dunces–especially its overweight and overwrought hero, Ignatius O’Reilly. Was Ignatius the inspiration for your hefty vampire hero, Jules?
One really can’t set out to write a sprawling, slapstick, comic picturesque set in New Orleans without confronting the gargantuan shadow of Ignatius O’Reilly. Ignatius has become part of New Orleans’s DNA, almost as much as Louis Armstrong has. Confederacy has been one of my favorite books for years–I don’t think any American novel has ever deployed better comic dialogue–so when the notion occurred to me to write a book about the trials and tribulations of an obese vampire in New Orleans, naturally my thoughts turned to the original Oliver Hardy of New Orleans literature. I didn’t want to make Jules a “vampire Ignatius”–not only wasn’t that my vision of Jules’s personality, but to try to do so and do John Kennedy Toole’s creation justice was, I felt, beyond my reach. What I did want to evoke was the spirit of Toole’s novel and Toole’s New Orleans . . . that peculiar combination of self-centeredness, inflated self-regard, and a nagging sense of inferiority and failure that Toole portrayed as being emblematic of New Orleans (a portrayal which I think hits close to the bull’s-eye). The typical New Orleans native (if there is such as thing) will spend hours listing the horrendous failings of his hometown, but he wouldn’t live anywhere else. And if anyone from the outside dares to deride New Orleans in comparison with, say, Houston, that same New Orleanian who was previously so down on his home will spring fiercely to the Big Easy’s defense with the passion of Arthur protecting Camelot.
Admittedly, Jules and Ignatius share numerous personality traits: slothfulness; a reverence for home and all things connected with home; devotion to traditional religion; living in their mothers’ homes and shadows; and, above all, a bullheaded assurance that their way is the right way. But Ignatius has a vocabulary, education, and, most likely, an I.Q. far beyond Jules’s, and if they ever met, he’d probably consider Jules the sort of uncouth, ignorant lout Ignatius’s mother would enjoy having a beer with. Jules, on the other hand, would deride Ignatius as a pointy-headed intellectual, almost as stuck up as the aristocratic vampires of the High Krewe of Vlad Tepes . . . but he would certainly consider Ignatius a tempting meal.
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