Q: The Vampire Armand is the sixth and latest book in the Vampire Chronicles. What led you back to the series?
A: I can't resist the vampires. In 1976, I had no idea that I would still be in the world of the vampires over twenty years later. But the simple fact is that when I slip into the character of Armand, or Louis, or Lestat, or any of these immortals, I find myself in possession of a crystal clear lens through which to see my own time, and any lessons I have learned.
Going back to Armand was natural, because he was one of a trio with Louis and Lestat, and though their stories have been told in the first person, Armand has always remained a mysterious and maligned character, estranged from the other two, yet intimately involved.
In earlier books, I allowed myself to be intoxicated by Armand without knowing all the answers to the questions about him as a character. I was enthralled with his beauty and his seeming coldness, as if I had not created him. It was as if he had walked into the book on his own. It's often this way with me and characters.
I let Armand become brighter and brighter as he hovered in the shadows. Though I was deep into the persona of Lestat when I wrote from Lestat's point of view, I knew that Lestat didn't understand Armand.
At the heart of the Chronicles is my love of playing with misunderstanding. My real plunge into the opposing points of view began with The Vampire Lestat, when Lestat turned the tables on the Louis of Interview with the Vampire. So to go on now to this third heroic demonic being is natural and more or less inevitable.
Q: What is the book about and what vampires will readers recognize?
A: Well, the book is truly Armand's story, from his childhood in Russia to his tragedy of the present moment. Armand has his moment on the stage of vampiric events. He has a wholly distinct voice in which he describes his losses and offers very plausible explanations for the contradictions in his personality.
The core of the book is the revelation that Armand came from the Russian church, from a childhood among icons. This is hinted at in earlier books, that he was kidnapped on the plains of southern Russia, but here I am able to explore in depth what it might mean to a boy to be taken from a life of icon painting in a Russian monastery to the glory of Renaissance Venice where he is steeped in humanism and humanistic luxury.
Vampire readers will instantly recognize Marius, the "maker" of Armand, the Venetian artist vampire who rescues Armand from slavery and then gives him the Dark Gift.
Marius has given his brief account of all this in other books.
David Talbot, the former head of the Talamasca, the new scribe of the vampires, is also key to the book's development, though he seems to play a minor role.
New characters are introduced. My imagination naturally expands the world of the vampires every time I enter it.
Q: Why did you focus on Armand, who first appeared in Interview with the Vampire?
A: It was really Armand's turn. The only other character of great importance in Interview with the Vampire, who has not told her own story, is Claudia, and Claudia is not with us now. Armand is. He is still part of the Chronicles. And with his point of view, I could bring the readers up to date on the vampire Lestat and what has been happening to him. It all felt rather natural.
Q: One of the vampires in The Vampire Armand lives among humans disguised as a painter. Why did you decide to make him an artist?
A: Marius, Armand's mentor, did live in 16th century Venice as a painter among mortals. This I first mentioned in Interview with the Vampire. Of course at that time, I had not delved into the character of Marius. The exploration of Marius came later when in The Vampire Lestat he explained to Lestat how he, Marius, enters and withdraws from the human world. At that time in his existence, the late 1700's, Marius thought he would always be living in this rhythm -- enjoying a mortal life, then sleeping for a long time, only to emerge to live another seemingly mortal life.
But now, as I reach The Vampire Armand, I have found myself discovering a greater secretive depth to Marius. He does not find immortality as simple as he would like to find it. On the contrary, he has suffered some hideous defeats, and it is the task of Armand in this new novel to describe in detail what happened when Marius was struck down by the evil Roman coven of religious vampires who believed Marius to be profane.
Making Marius a painter probably derives directly from my love of painting, from my obsession with the Renaissance which I've enjoyed since I was a little girl. One of the first books I ever completed was a biography of Leonardo daVinci. Marius lives right in the heart of 16th century Venice, and paints with all the fervor and technique he can muster -- only to have his achievements destroyed.
Marius's ambitions gave me a way of living out my dreams of being a painter myself.
Q: Did you consult with your husband Stan, an accomplished artist and poet, to help you create this character?
A: No, I didn't consult Stan in creating Marius. Stan is a continuous influence on my work. His recent paintings have overwhelmed me with their intense use of color, and their violent narratives and images. However, it was long ago decided by me that Marius would be a painter. I wrote of this in the mid 1980's before Stan had devoted himself completely to painting. I think Stan and I share an obsession with painting. But one thing I should note, Stan has taught me more about modern art than any other teacher I've ever had. Yet modern art still locks me out. Marius reflects an age which is easier for me to embrace.
Q: The Vampire Armand travels across time and place from ancient Constantinople, to Venice during the Renaissance, to 19th century Paris and contemporary New Orleans. Why did you choose these settings?
A: Passion is the only basis I have for the choice of settings. I go where I want to be in my imagination; I go where I want to study or understand. I am fascinated by old Russia. I am in love with Italy. As for New Orleans I live here now full time and my childhood love grows stronger every day. I do think my settings reflect my hunger for the exotic, the intense, the rich, the sensuous. But like everything else in my work, they derive from instinct and not from logic or intellectual intent.
Q: How did you research the book?
A: Research for The Vampire Armand was extensive. I did much more reading on Kiev and the Monastery of the Caves in Kiev than I ever needed for the book. But it gave me a deep experience of Russia or Ukraine as we call this part of the world now. As for Italy, I have been there four times now -- I went right after completing Armand just to see certain paintings I had mentioned in the book -- and I continue my study unendingly. I read, read, read. When I can get on a plane and go, I do. I didn't feel I could go to Russia. But I got as close as I could through history and through gazing at reproductions of the icons so magnificently created in Russia.
Q: What are your work habits for a novel?
A: Once I truly begin to write, I work obsessively, in twelve hour days, punctuated by days of long sleep and vivid dreaming. Starting time and ending time are no longer important. I might begin at 9 a.m., or after noon or at eight in the evening. I go from there. I turn on the computer and write, write, write.
My room is a mess. Notes are scribbled on the walls so that I can look up at them at the appropriate moments and insert the date, the name, whatever, when I need it. Books are stacked so high that people have to search for me when they come into the room. Opened books with marked up pages are stacked on top of one another.
I become suicidal. I go through a horrid despair some time or other before the final page, during which everything seems meaningless from the dawn of history to the very hour in which I am writing. I'm intolerable to live with. But I spread myself thin over a number of loved ones and staff members so that no one person has to put up with how intense, hysterical and miserable I am.
When I get elated and talk fast and furiously about wonderful aspects of history or the characters, or good developments in the story, people run away from me. I don't blame them.
While the novel is being written, I try to avoid dressing for outdoors. No one can make you go out if you don't have on shoes. Not even in the south. I wear long velvet robes and soft velvet slippers. I refuse to go out. All food is brought in. I eat hamburgers because they are easy to hold with one hand while reading and holding the book with the other hand.
In the middle of the night, I read, sometimes on the carpeted floor of the bathroom, just because it's warm. I am wretched. I don't care anymore about being abnormal. Writing is everything. Everything. It seems impossible to write the book. It seems impossible to lift a hairbrush to brush my hair. But I do it. I put on mascara every day that I write.
This period of intense work lasts about six weeks. It's best that way. My imagination is overheated, and my memory clogged with data of varying importance. If I go over six weeks, I begin to forget things; I feel the loss of intensity and information and I become all the more self-destructive and obsessed.
The end of the book is a big event for me. A big event. I start screaming. I put the hour and the date at the end of the last page. I expect everybody to understand, at least a little. It's a triumph! The darkness of destiny has been driven back for a brief while. I celebrate. I scream, eat chocolate and sleep.
Right near the end of writing The Vampire Armand, I realized I had to return to Italy, especially to Florence, and at once I began to make preparations for the trip. As soon as the novel was finished, and off to the publisher's, as soon as it could be accomplished, I flew to Italy. That gave me hope, a way out of a life threatening darkness that often follows the climax of a book. But I still ate chocolate and screamed.
While writing, I don't want to rest. I don't want to sleep. Why sleep? It seems stupid, except when weariness overcomes me like a giant cloud of poisonous vapor. Then I sleep fifteen to twenty hours. I tell people to go in and out of the bedroom and ignore me lying there, as if I were dead. I won't talk on the phone. I won't open my eyes if I don't have to. I dream terrible upsetting dreams. I want to kill myself. But I can't. I can't do it to other people, and I have work that must be done, novels that must be written. So I don't kill myself. Besides, I don't think it's good to kill oneself. It's a horrible idea. It makes a horrible effect even on acquaintances. I think a lot about people I loved who are dead. I think of how dead they are, year after year, ever more dead.
On the structure of the novel itself, I used to outline heavily. I don't now. I can't bear to know everything about what horrors await the characters. I don't want to know. I want -- for this phase of my life -- to write without knowledge of what is going to happen next. I want to be born again every day at the computer keyboard. I do envision an ending and a reason why the novel exists -- a justification for the tale. But it's all vague. I want it that way.
I won't pre-write anymore. I refuse. I'll read and read and look and look in preparation. I'll see my character, his name, his general fate. But I won't pre-write. No notes for scenes. No bits and pieces of dialogue. No. It's too agonizing to move the characters towards a fate that has already been suffered by me in my mind. I'm fresher and better if I don't know for sure what is going to happen.
Heavily outlined and pre-written novels of mine include Cry to Heaven, parts of The Vampire Lestat, very little of The Witching Hour, all of Violin, Memnoch the Devil, The Tale of the Body Thief, and the last fourth of The Feast of All Saints.
The most spontaneous novels I've ever written were Taltos and The Vampire Armand. Almost all of Interview with the Vampire, and most of The Vampire Lestat were utterly spontaneously written. The first part of The Witching Hour, the first few chapters were heavily pre-written. But then The Witching Hour became a runaway spontaneous novel with hundreds of pages taking shape before my eyes. I like it this way now.
I write on a state of the art computer, with the fastest hard drive imaginable, and the greatest amount of memory. I use the old program WORDSTAR because I know it so well. I print out the work of the day when I finish every day no matter what the hour. I have a superfast printer that can cough up a whole novel in no time. I always have a hard copy of all the work to date right beside the computer. If I move back to an earlier chapter, which I often do, I throw the old draft in a ziplock plastic bag marked "old chapter No. whatever" and print out the new draft of the chapter and stick it with the others. I use lots of ziplock plastic bags. I don't write by hand.
If a revelation comes to me when I'm too tired to really write, I scribble this on the wall of the bathroom or the wall of my office, using a black Sharpie pen. With black Sharpie, I write all over the computer, the keyboard edges, and the edges of the monitor.
I do keep a diary by hand. I've been keeping it since 1970.
Q: How will you celebrate Halloween this year?
A: I will celebrate Halloween by being at THE VAMPIRE LESTAT FAN CLUB COVEN PARTY for 1998. I will be there dancing and singing along with thousands of others who gather in New Orleans for this event every year. Lestat's Fan Club gives the party on the Saturday closest to Halloween.
This year, due to my love of Beethoven and my use of his Appassionata Sonata in The Vampire Armand, I am going to present a young pianist at the Coven Party who will play the Appassionata for us. His name is Michael Koerber. He is fourteen, and more than a prodigy. He will wear a Beethoven costume for the event. The party is really a giant ball, and many of the readers, who come from all parts of the world, come in costumes derived from the Vampire Chronicles.
Q: Are you working on any special projects that we should know about?
A: I am working on a new novel, which is not a vampire novel. It will not appear until the fall of 1999. It's something I've been haunted by for some time. You might say it is my shot at "the fall of Atlantis" legend. It's too heated and too mercurial right now for me to say more.
Q: What's happening on the film front? Any movies in the works to follow the success of Interview with the Vampire?
A: All is quiet on the film front. I don't think Warner Brothers will ever make a sequel to Interview with the Vampire. And they have a hold over the property and its sequels until the middle of the year 2000. There is some development but I am pretty much locked out of it, and it breaks my heart to think that they don't want my input, but they don't. Honestly, I do not think they will get far with the project. Time is running out. But who knows? If they do make a sequel, I pray it is a good film.
Q: What will you write next? Are there more vampires on the way?
A: In the future I will write more about the vampires. I have just finished a novel for the spring of 1999, called Vittorio, The Vampire. This new character is not part of the Chronicles. He tells a story all his own. I know I will return to the world of the vampires again. I see no end to it. I have found a personal magic in this world, which I will never abandon.
