. . . my preference is for the traditional, bad-ass vampires. You know the ones . . . Nosferatu, with his rat-like visage and taloned fingers, rising perpendicular out of his coffin or rigidly stalking his victims.
My fascination with vampires began when I learned my mother had Bela Lugosi’s autograph. My great grandparents owned a hair salon in Manhattan and Bela Lugosi had been just one of their famous clients. One day . . .
One issue I’ve noticed in a lot of paranormal fiction is scale: getting too big too fast. All the vampires have a werewolf bodyguard, legions of angels . . . and the sewers are bursting with more vampires than rats.