Interview with George Earl Parker, author of “Vampyre Blood”

By admin, on March 4th, 2010

About George Earl Parker

George Earl Parker is an author, singer/songwriter, and artist. As designer and director of the short film “Yellow Submarine Sandwich,” included in Eric Idle’s pseudo-documentary of a band called the Rutles, Parker received accolades, awards, and a showing at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City.

His art has been exhibited in museums and galleries around the country, and three of his songs have shown up on the European Country Music Association charts.

Vampyre Blood-Eight Pints of Trouble is his first novel. He currently lives in California where he is working on his music and his second book. You can visit his website at www.georgeearlparker.com.

The Interview

Could you please tell us a little about your book?
Vampyre Blood-Eight Pints of Trouble:
When Count Dracula gives up his evil ways and joins a Goth rock band on a tour of America, he donates blood in order to find a lawyer, and ends up saving a life, which changes his fate forever.

Did something specific happen to prompt you to write this book?
I wanted to see if there was a way I could redeem the ultimate bad boy.
Who or what is the inspiration behind this book?
Farce! P.G. Wodehouse! The insanity of reality!
Who is your biggest supporter?
Myself.
Your biggest critic?
Again, myself.
What cause are you most passionate about and why?
Ending world hunger and promoting world peace sound like noble causes to me.
In the last year have you learned or improved on any skills?
I believe I’m beginning to understand communication.
Do you have any rituals you follow when finishing a piece of work?
I try to keep a sense of balance at all times.
Who has influenced you throughout your career as a writer?
Charles Dickens, Carlos Casteneda, Mickey Spillane.
What is the most important thing in your life right now?
Having enough time to do everything.
What are you currently working on?
I’m working on a story about teenage angst.

Do you have any advice for writers or readers?
One informs the other, and both are necessary for understanding yourself.
Is there an author that inspired you to write?
Yes, Tom Robbins.
What are some of your long term goals?
Writing, singing, making music, making people laugh.
What do you feel has been your greatest achievement as an author?
Communication. It gets talked about a lot, but it doesn’t happen often.
What do you feel is your biggest strength?
Commitment.
Biggest weakness?
Eternal optimism.

What do you feel sets this book apart from others in the same genre?
It’s not the same old story. It looks at Count Dracula from a totally different perspective, one that allows him to flourish and grow. One that allows him to understand how he got to be a lonely monster.
You know the scenario – you’re stuck on an island. What book would you bring with you and why?
The Tao Te Ching. I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand that book, but it sure is fun to try.

If you could go back and change one day, what would it be?
I think it would’ve been kind of cool to have invented the video camera at the dawn of time.
Are you a different person now than you were 5 years ago? In what way/s?
I’m a different person than I was five minutes ago!
What is the most important lesson you have learned from life so far?
Humility.
Is there anything you regret doing/not doing?
No.
What is your favorite past-time?
My favorite pastime is doing Tai Chi, but I never seem to do it enough.
Is there anything else you would like to share with us?
Yeah, read my book, you’ll really enjoy it!

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Latest news! Listen to George Earl Parker’s latest country hit,

Out of the Fire here!

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About Vampyre Blood – Eight Pints of Trouble

When young New Orleans lawyer Bradley Harrington Chester III lies dying in the street after being hit by a speeding car, it seems that his life is over. But as his spirit drifts away toward a distant light, he is approached by an exotic fellow who claims to be both the Count Dracula of legend, and a violin player for The Techno Zombies, a Goth rock band on a world tour.

The Count explains that with the aid of a wizard he has abandoned his dark legacy, and now finds himself in need of a legal representative. So he offers Brad a deal–Brad can shuffle off into the light wherever it may lead, or he can become his lawyer, and be revived by a transfusion of Vampyre Blood.

The very last thing the young lawyer remembers before dying was his wife asking for a divorce, and prior to that he remembered being handed the prosecution of a mafia kingpin on his first day at the district attorney’s office. He wondered why the DA was so friendly to him, and so nasty to his star attorney Richard Bleddon, and he wondered why Bleddon had arranged a champagne supper at a fancy restaurant for him and his wife. After which, a speedy midget had snatched his wife’s purse and led him out into the street to die.

Impatiently, the Count presses for an answer to his offer, and after being assured that he will not become a Vampyre himself, Brad accepts, hoping to return and make sense of the madness that brought him to the brink of death. Populated by loveable rogues, scheming lawyers, and thieving gypsies, Vampyre Blood-Eight-Pints of Trouble is an insane romp through New Orleans, illustrating the intensity of our human desire to get what we want at any cost, and the strange places that desire can lead to.

Read the Excerpt!

Transylvania – Present DayHe lingered in the darkest shadows staring at a shimmering pool of white light as the roar of a thousand dragons filled his ears. Like a tragic lover in a mystery play seeking the most ardent of his heart’s desires, he had often stood in such fashion, lusting after one sweet caress, while restraining himself from leaping into the soft warm glow.
“She lives to enchant,” he murmured. “She is a temptress, sometimes cold and sometimes hot, but always alluring.”
Her radiance had beguiled him for centuries: what would it be like if he fell under her spell? What dreams awaited him? What nightmares? What adventures?
The wind whispered through the trees urging him on, while a stab of doubt struck him in the chest with such force he couldn’t move. What if his miraculous cure was a lie? Stepping into a beam of full sunlight was instant death to a vampyre. It vexed him mightily to hesitate, for hesitation was not his strongest suit.
“There shall be one death here today,” he told the breeze. “One way or another, I shall be reduced to dust, or I shall die to myself and be reborn.”
Mere steps away, rays of sunlight spilled through the leafy canopy, and danced seductively on the forest floor.
It’s now or never, he thought. For if there was one thing he’d gleaned from centuries of nocturnal meditation, it was that a step in any new direction required trust. Trust was the key to all metamorphosis.
His constitution steeled, he flexed his muscles to move, and a spine-chilling roar screamed out of nowhere, followed by blinding flashes of light.
He was perplexed. Was this some evil necromancy designed to staunch his flow into the future? Or was it a warning, that hideous beasts would tear him limb from limb if he dared try?
It was a conundrum of epic proportions. But in the vast complexity of it all he was reminded of his lineage: he was a nobleman, a lord. His bloodline would not allow him to vacillate; he made decisions and adhered to them for good or bad.
As the sands ran out for hesitation he gathered up his fear, turned its power to courage, and stepped into the light.
It had been forever since he’d stood inside a sunbeam, and this wasn’t just one, this was a thousand of them crisscrossed in every direction over his path. The wind breathed a sigh of relief, and the leaves shook and chattered wildly, as rays of sunlight jiggled, danced, splashed and played all around him.
He had been absolutely incapable of emotion for as long as he could remember, but instantly he found himself surfing the tunnel of a tidal wave that emanated from deep in his beleaguered soul. He shook like an erupting volcano, shed tears like a raging waterfall, and his ears ached from the pure unmitigated joy that pounded out of his heart.
It had worked! Nothing could stop him now; he was free, free to do as he pleased
The maddening roar of beasts had grown to a stampede, and their growling and snarling was drowning his thoughts. Leaving the pool of light, he moved toward the source of the sound. He gazed one way and the other along a living green wall, as if a huge pair of clippers had trimmed the forest like a massive hedge, as far as the eye could see.
He reached out, parted some leaves, and gazed at a gooey, oozy, gray mess of motion that confounded him beyond belief. Is this more spell binding? He wondered, then it dawned on him, the tears of joy he had shed so abundantly were obscuring his vision. Blinking them away, he gazed curiously upon a scene he had no words in his mind to describe.
Huge metal beasts of all shapes and sizes roared by on round rubber legs. No, no, no, he told himself, they’re not legs, they’re wheels! It was true, they were wheels, but they moved ten times faster than those on any horse-drawn carriage.
What on earth had happened? Overnight he had changed, and inexplicably the world around him had also changed. It was a profound mystery, but one he would have to solve later, because just yesterday evening he had made a promise to Igor that he would start afresh in a land called America, and a gentleman never breaks a promise.