Vampire Lovers Beware:
Patrick Califia’s Mortal Companion Stakes the Myth of the Asexual Vampire

SAN FRANCISCO—In this age of up-front disclosures, let me get this out of the way: I’m a total fan of Patrick Califia, ever since his sex advice columns in the Advocate, ever since the revolutionary collection Macho Sluts. That was all the way back in the ‘80s. Okay, I’m not only a fan but a friend. We first met at Queer Spirit, a gathering of Lavender Pagans, in the early ‘90s. Since then, we have been to hell together and back a few times. I consider him my best friend. And yes, I’m also the editor in chief for Suspect Thoughts Press, which is publishing the first book in his vampire series, Mortal Companion. Okay, you happy? I’m totally disclosed now.

Recently, I sat down with Patrick in his home and we dished fresh-from-the-boneyard dirt over some un-Easter ham for him and veggie burrito for me (will the personal revelations never cease?). Here are just some of the questions I asked of the creator and chronicler of Ulric, Lilith, and the über-lesbian anti-hero, Adulfa.

Ian Philips: I’ve never been a big crazed vampire-lover despite reading the first three books of Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles until there was Buffy. So I’ll start with something simple. Why vampires?

Patrick Califia: [laughs] I’ve been fascinated with blood ever since I was a small child. Red was my favorite color. My earliest childhood memories are of a small town in Colorado where my father worked in the coal mines. We were so poor that during the winter he and his friends would poach deer. I still remember watching drops of blood fall from the tree in our backyard where they had hung the deer up to butcher it, and feeling incredible sorrow and gratitude toward this creature who had been killed so that we could live. I grew up among hunters, and I think that primitive energy is one of the things that attracts us to the myth of the vampire. Taking prey used to be one of our survival skills; now it’s entertainment.

When I was 17 and coming out as gay, I was feeling suicidal out of religious guilt and additional, unmanageable pain because the woman I loved had been sent out of state to college to escape a lesbian affair with her gym teacher, and she was not about to get into bed with me. I learned that cutting myself would help the pain. Shedding my own blood would get me grounded in my body again, and I could somehow manage and go on because this ritual had made my suffering visible and also acknowledged it as important. The suffering of queer people is often invisible. It’s not until our blood is spilled that straight society notices us. Brandon Teena, Matthew Shepherd, and Gwen Araujo were all victims of the psychic vampirism of a world that sucks up our creativity, kindness, energy, and intelligence but still wants to treat us like shit. The vampire is an attractive figure to people who are tired of being hunted.

Many scholars of popular mythology and literature have noted that the vampire stands in for any sort of shadow subculture—homosexuals, sadomasochists, drug addicts, etc. In Victorian culture where there was a strong association between sex, disease, death, mental illness, and sin and damnation, the vampire’s murderous thirst represented lust of all sorts, and of course its “badness.” But if vampirism was really just about sex for the Victorians, the appropriate execution would have been to sever the genitalia, don’t you think? That stake through the heart is an underhanded recognition of the romantic nature of sexual deviance—the subtle signs by which we recognize one another, the thrill of connecting with another outsider, the seductive act of gradually moving further and further away from what is sedate and normal and boring. Anyone who is in love wants it to go on forever, to be immortal and eternally in the presence of the beloved. People who are coming want the same thing. So in a funny way, the nightstalkers with their light-sensitive eyes and needle-sharp fangs are symbols of our hunger for life rather than a self-destructive need to lay down and expire.

In the realms of human consciousness and connection, nothing is ever simple. I love vampires because of their paradoxical nature and their deadly serious ways. I’d rather run for my life once down a dark alley, pursued by something horrid and beautiful that would capture and consume me, than die by half-an-inch every day, throttled like a chained serf in a bland corporate cubicle. And it would be even better to be able to rise each evening free from depression or hesitation, to choose a new beloved and stalk them, savoring the perfume of their fear, then pin them down for a final fuck that ends with a painfully prolonged ejaculation and arterial spurting. Whooooooooeeeeeeee!!

IP: You’ve written very eloquently—and erotically—about blood play and your attraction to it in the essay “Shiny Sharp Things”.

PC: Yes, that essay is reprinted in one of my essay collections from Cleis Press, Speaking Sex to Power. I was very nervous about writing that piece. I had nightmares about people hacking one another up at random, so in a way I think I was almost too cautious. But I think it is a serious matter.

IP: What is the connection between your real-life experience and this larger-than-life saga of the Jäger family?

PC: Blood is the highest tribute that a sadist can receive. I have always taken blood from the people who belong to me. This gift purifies my troubled spirit and gives me the strength to go on. It is evidence of profound trust, and it’s thrilling to be let inside—quite literally—another person’s body and soul. In the realm of magic, blood binds and seals. Those of us who wrestle with hurtful connections to blood relatives understand this quite well. Fortunately, blood kinship can be created mindfully.

IP: What do you love most about vampires in general and your vampires in particular? Is it the bloodlust itself, the fangs, the pain, the shape-shifting, the immortality?

PC: I like the fantasy that all vampires are rich, so not only do they get to live forever, they get to live very well. They enjoy a freedom that I certainly don’t get to have. In my story, I do contrast Ulrich, who has paid attention to his material circumstances, to his sister Adulfa, who chooses to live more like a feral creature, with minimal human comforts. I’m also fond of Ulrich because he departs from the stereotype that all vampires are tops. He is a switch, and he’s also bisexual, so he brings his mortal lover, Lilith, into a pansexual and polyamorous lifestyle. It was also good to write about a woman who was strongly attracted to men who wasn’t repelled by male homosexuality, who could empathize with his tragic history with a male lover. Adulfa is a scream to write about because she’s just a badass. In her I am able to exercise every perverted impulse I’ve ever had that was not safe, sane, or consensual. She rips! And finally, it was great to be able to write about the forcible Christianization of Europe. Not very many people realize that as late as the 14th century, there were crusades against the pagans who lived in what is now Prussia and the Baltics.

IP: Okay, another simple question.

PC: That comes in paragraph form.

IP: [laughs] Oh, how well you know me. Okay, it’s neither simple nor short. Maybe simple-minded…

PC: Ian,…don’t talk about yourself that way. Remember our mutual self-esteem pact. (If we were really Goths I know we’d have a suicide pact, but instead we are glamorous nerd pornographers who are marking time as best we can till we get to go back to Witch Mountain.)

IP: Too true. Thank you. Okay—In our post-Anne Rice, post-Buffy age where new vampire novels and anthologies swarm the shelves every season, why Mortal Companion? Why should vampire lovers be enthralled by your novel. And how does it play with the vampire canon itself? Like the Rhys-Renfield connection. Or the great nod to Bela Lugosi you make when Lilith and Ulric first meet. And how does it avoid it? What makes it so unique? And I do think it is unique.

PC: I did get told quite a few times that there’s a glut of vampire stories on the market, so it would be a bad idea to write this book. But I think the very popularity of this genre shows that it involves escapist worlds of imagination that people love, and also deals with concepts that are intriguing and quite relevant to our ordinary realities. I’m a big fan of Anne Rice, Michael Talbot, Whitley Streiber, Jody Scott, Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, Poppy Z. Brite, and other masters of the Undead Hit Parade. But I hope a little room can be made on the shelf for my effort and its sequel.

You did catch the fact that I made a few jokes about the stock vampire narrative. Yes, there are some internal references to dialogue or other trivia that vampire fans will catch. The book deals with some heavy situations and issues, but I can’t seem to avoid adding humor to the mix. Rhys is very much her own person, but she does hark back to Renfield. I just think that a lesbian dominatrix would have more use for her property than Dracula made of his pet lunatic. Why waste a pretty mouth on eating bugs? Adulfa enters every room clit first. I think she’d say, “Get that tongue over here, bitch, and put it to work!”

IP: Now I know you take to effusive compliments like a cat to cold water…

PC: You’re dancing pretty close to the fire there, Mr. Ian.

IP: Well, I’m just going to blurt this out then. You’re a total brainiac and one righteous bookworm…

PC: [laughs] Since you have helped me to move about five times, you know exactly how many cardboard boxes it takes to contain my library. I’m going to have to carry you from place to place in the afterlife like a human magic carpet to pay you back.

IP: You’ll never be anybody’s beast of burden. And I certainly didn’t mind looking at the archive of smut and sexology. I think Greg and I did more reading and giggling than we did packing. So how much research did you do on Mortal Companion? Where there any surprises for you in what you, and pardon the pun, “uncovered”?

PC: I read two or three books a week, and I’m always looking for new vampire fiction. I also read a fair amount of folklore and stuff about the history of religion. I guess I also did a lot of research for this book that involved alcohol wipes, scalpels, and butterflies. They can never get the color of blood right in the movies, can they? But while I was writing Mortal Companion, I didn’t let myself read any vampire literature. It’s too easy to compare a finished work to your own rough draft and get so discouraged that you quit.

One of the trends in vampire literature that surprised me is how often the author posits the taking of blood as a substitute for sex. Once you are a vamp, you become impotent. You can’t have both, they seem to be saying. And then there’s the notion that this vital, souped-up, top-of-the-food-chain creature is somehow also corpse-like: smells bad, doesn’t look pretty unless you are being fooled by their magic, etc. I just wanted my vampires to have it all. So they’re very sexual and also hot to look at. If anything, they live even more intensely than mortals do. They feel everything more strongly. They are faster, stronger, and more sensitive. I’ve also combined other magical powers with vampirism, and added the spiritual element of paganism.

The other truism seems to be the idea that vampires are forever doomed to be outsiders. By their very nature, they are inimical to human society’s safety and stability. But it came to me that there was a way for immortals to be incorporated into preindustrial, pagan society, so I’ve written a bit about that in the back story.

IP: Because I’ve been privileged to watch you write this novel from some of its earliest drafts, I noticed that the biggest transformation from first draft to final book occurs in Lilith. Originally, Ulric and Adulfa overshadowed her. But now, in the final version, she more than holds her own. She even manages to suprise them both with her own talents and powers. What did you have to do to let her come center stage?

PC: Only you would say it was a privilege to read the same fucking story over and over again and vote on whether I should add or delete a comma! Yes, the character of Lilith worried me quite a bit. I was afraid she would come across as nothing but a submissive slut. I mean, I wanted her to be able to be nothing but Ulric’s submissive slut, but I also wanted her to have her own autobiography, values, opinions, needs, and individual quirks and tastes. Actually participating in the leather community for three decades was a real advantage here, because I’ve been privileged to know many feisty slave girls or female masochists who can go under deeper than Moby Dick and still manage to tell you off if you get them pissed. Integrating an intense need for S/M into a regular life is quite a challenge. The romance between Ulric and Lilith isn’t just a vampire story, it’s also the tale of a bottom being able to come out. She has a loving and experienced master to help her own her own desire. That’s often not the case. So at least in fantasy, I wanted this particular submissive girl to have the ideal owner, someone who is both cruel and supportive of her individuality.

The characters in this book became so real to me that I felt as if they were telling me what to say about them. She definitely had her own voice in my head. And I was pretty surprised by the ending of the book. I didn’t realize there was even going to be a sequel till I wrote the last chapter!

IP: Some of the chapters have originally appeared in anthologies. What was the response of those original readers to vampires who not only have sex but love to have sex—especially S/M sex? I know the traditional sci-fi magazines fear the queer, but have you run into vampire puritans?

PC: Not yet. I’d be surprised if I did. I think writers usually censor themselves much more than their fans would like. Publishers can be reluctant to cross the line and allow explicit sex, but when they do, the books are very popular. Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire turned a whole generation of heterosexuals on to the sultry appeal of man-to-man desire. I’m sure she had editors who were leery of that. But it was, I believe, the primary reason for that book’s popularity. I think that book may have done more for queer rights than just about any other piece of literature in its time. Fortunately, I have Suspect Thoughts, a publisher that demands well-written work and does not censor the sexual content. I hope readers who enjoy Mortal Companion will check out Suspect Thoughts’ other offerings.

IP: Aah, you are so kind. Thank you!

PC: Kindness had nothing to do with it.

IP: Well, then, thank you all the more. Okay, now for my next question. In your writing, regardless of whether it’s fiction or poetry or essay or article, I think you are very agile. Very perversely and wonderfully fluid. But you take it to new heights in Mortal Companion. You play freely with gender, with genres, even within the genre of the vampire tale. How has your very public transition from female to male, into one fine bisexual bear of a man, affected your writing? In particular, the writing of this book? Did it result in any surprising character developments or plot twists—especially since you conceived of these characters many years before you transitioned?

PC: I started publishing stories about Ulric and Adulfa several years ago. But if I had not transitioned, I don’t know if I would ever have finished the book. Isn’t that weird? There was something about writing a heterosexual love story that had me stymied. Being true to my own feelings about gender and allowing my masculinity to become more visible released so much creative energy. It does feel edgy for me to try to describe the sensations that having a cock allows a man to experience. And of course I sometimes feel sad about my own perceived inadequacy in that area. But when I can push myself past those fears or anxieties and let the libidinal energy take over, I can claim a bond with other men and hopefully get a chunk of their reality onto the page. Penetration is central to my sexuality. I like coming when I am inside my partner, or when they are inside of me. And of course the vampire bite is a metaphor for sexual intercourse. The long sharp tooth explores flesh and exploits it with as much relish as a dick inside a tight ass. Having grown my own beard and gotten rid of my tits, I feel more free to explore the nature of men and women in my work. Even though the central love story in this book is between a man and a woman, I think it’s one of the queerest novels ever published. I love the 21st century.

IP: Amen. On both counts.

PC: But I want my next erotic novel to feature a leading character who is an FTM. It’s really time to put the sexual experiences of transgendered people into the canon. That’s already happening in books like Hanne Blank and Raven Kaldera’s Best Transgender Erotica and M. Christian’s Trans Figures: Transgender Erotica. And I want to be part of that movement. Good smut is arousing, but it is also a map of bodily contours and potential identities. We are so language-based that the things we don’t talk about become invisible. But transgendered bodies are real, and I want to celebrate them in print.

IP: I love how you had characters from other stories you’ve written make special-guest-star appearances in Mortal Companion. Like Patrick Kelly from “The Cop and His Choirboy” in No Mercy. What was it like for you bringing Officer Kelly and Davy into Ulric and Lilith’s world? Any plans for his return in the second book? Will characters from other works of yours make a cameo?

PC: Maybe I was just being lazy. But like I said, the characters in this book were so three-dimensional it felt like they were taking over. Patrick Kelly, the crooked cop, really wanted to be there, and I think he will play a key role in the sequel, although I’m not clear exactly what he’s up to yet. The places and people that I write about are always with me in a sort of parallel alternative universe. So they know each other, sometimes visit one another, have opinions about each other. I never know who will pop up when I open a document and turn on Dragon Naturally Speaking to begin my dictation. (I can’t type much because of my fibromyalgia.)

Patrick Kelly is Adulfa’s male counterpart. He’s wicked and disillusioned enough to be able to believe in the evidence of his own eyes, and understand that vampires really do exist. And it’s a power that I think he will want to claim for his own. We’ll see what she has to say about that. Lilith might have an opinion as well.

IP: What’s your dream-team cast for the movie version of Mortal Companion?

PC: I think Gwen Stafani would be a priceless Adulfa. I want Bruce Springsteen to play Ulric because I’ve always wanted to see him have sex with another guy. I’d be happy to study Cajun so I could acquire the appropriate accent to play Alain myself. And could we get Britney Spears to be Lilith? She needs a spanking worse than any other white woman in America. As for Rhys … get any of the hardcore punk dykes who are doing tattoos at the Black and Blue studio in San Francisco. Please. Those women are so hot they hurt me.

IP: And finally, what can readers of Mortal Companion expect in the second book? How long do we have to wait for it? What supersecret tidbits can you reveal here?

We will discover that while Adulfa and Ulric went their own way, each of them hunting in solitude on their own territory, there was a whole vampire culture in the background, immersed in a war that they knew nothing about. We will learn why Lilith and Ulric were able to leave Adulfa’s torture chamber together, despite the instinct that forces vampires apart, and keeps them solitary hunters. The history of the vampire cats will be revealed. Some of the people we thought were dead will turn out to be alive. Lilith and Ulric’s love affair will face a major challenge, and Adulfa will suffer through a stormy sea-change that puts herself and Rhys in life-threatening danger. There will be peril, conspiracy, kinky sex, and bashing of X-ian fundamentalists galore.

IP: Oh, I cannot wait!

PC: But I know you’re a good little boy and will do just that.

IP: For you, Sire, and you alone.

Read an excerpt of Mortal Companion in Issue 11

Ian Philips is the Editor in Chief (and Mother Bear) of Suspect Thoughts Press. He is also the author of two collections of literotica: See Dick Deconstruct and Satyriasis. And since February 19, 2004, he is the legally wed husband of heartthrob author-publisher, Greg Wharton.