The Sorrows of Young Werewolf (eyeteeth) wrote,
The Sorrows of Young Werewolf

The story I can never write

There's a story in my head that I can never write. It's really more of a setup. It's about a werewolf named Adam Herschfeld and his two daughters. He fathered one of them when he was in human form and the other when he was in wolf form, so one of them is all were and the other is all wolf. The human one, Feria, is fourteen. The lupine one, whose given name is Louisa but whom everyone calls Shadow, is eight. They are inseparable -- because when your little sister is also a dog, you really can't get her to stop following you everywhere.

The problem with this story lies in the origin of Herschfeld's werewolfism. See, I said he was a werewolf, but really he's the werewolf -- the only one that has ever existed. That's because, as it turns out, werewolfism is a synthetic condition, invented sometime in the early nineties by an ambitious vampire hunter and part-time mad scientist named Ty LeGrand. Ty had read that werewolves were the natural enemies of vampires, and decided to make one for himself -- this despite the fact that werewolves could not, by definition, be the natural enemies of anything, because unlike vampires they didn't actually exist. The bad news is that he succeeded, without Herschfeld's permission or even his foreknowledge; the good news is that five minutes after he succeeded Herschfeld turned into a big fucking wolf and ripped him to pieces. So the world was rid of LeGrand, but now there was this werewolf.

So Herschfeld's origin presupposes the existence of vampires, and I have vampires. Plenty of vampires. But I still can't ever write this story, because to do so would fuck up the whole point of my universe, which is that everything is totally normal except for a handful of things -- specifically, the things that differentiate vampires from everyone else. Like, they don't age, and they can't go out in the sun, and they have to drink blood or they starve, right? But they still have to do things like pay the gas bill. There's none of this porny Anne Rice-y shroud-of-mystery bullshit. And as for whether vampirism is magical or scientific or what, I don't go into it. Kind of like how Bill Watterson doesn't go into what the deal is with Hobbes.

Unfortunately, if I start throwing werewolves and mad science into the mix, my credibility goes straight to hell. What next, mummies shambling around with canopic jars in tow? Some big-eyed little kid who sees dead people? It's intolerable.

I had a nice idea about Herschfeld disappearing a few days before the full moon and Feria and Shadow coming to the vampires to ask for help finding him. I could have had fun with that setup. I've even tried rearranging my whole universe to fit the Herschfelds in, but it just doesn't work. So I guess they're doomed to just kind of wander around in my head for the rest of my life. Or maybe it's I who am doomed. Either way. Hey, wasn't I supposed to be writing a novel?

Total word count: 64,845
Tags: not writing, vampires, werewolfism, writing
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