5 Ways My Vampire Books are Better than Twilight

All of us who've written vampire novels live in the shadow of Twilight.  I cannot deny that those books are page-turners of the first order.  So, what makes She Dies at the End and its sequels better than the Bella and Edward behemoth?  Here are five ways the November Show Series is superior to the Twilight Saga.

1) November doesn't take any nonsense.

My main character doens't put up with any patronizing, controlling nonsense from the vampires she meets. You don't want to love her for who she is, let her make her own decisions, and give her the respect she deserves?  Then she is done with your trifling, immortal self.  And when break-ups happen, she doesn't wallow in self-pity as though her life no longer has any meaning.

2) The stakes are higher.

Instead of spending three books obsessing over when she gets to have sex with a vampire she inexplicably worships, and one book defending her family, November spends her time trying to save the entire world from supernatural, authoritarian tyranny.  And occasionally making out with vampires.

3) The world is more diverse.

There are black people in my books.  There are latino people, Asian people, mixed-race people.  Gay people.  Even, gasp, the occasional bisexual.  Some fairies for good measuere.  Twilight is one heterosexual white person after another, at least on the vampire side of things.  How boring is that?  At least the werewolves liven things up.  Heaven forbid popular culture should look a little more like the real world.

4) Nobody sparkles, and there are no at-home vampire C-sections.

Self-explanatory.

5) The writing is better, and written for adults.

If you don't believe me, here is a sample:

November heard a scuffle begin outside the door. Before she could react, she herself had been flung against the wall, a hand around her throat. As she struggled to breathe, her assailant gloated. 

“Waited on the roof. Came through the window,” crowed a large fairy with bright yellow hair and eyes. “Now we wait for my partners to finish with your guards, and then we’re going to take a little trip. If you scream, I will make you regret it. Understand?”

November nodded, and he released his hold on her neck. She could hear Willow and Pine outside and caught a mental glimpse of their violent struggle. There would be no rescue from that quarter. She was on her own.

“I wish it was daylight,” the fairy whispered right into her ear. “So I could have a taste. Ah, well—there’s always tomorrow.”

November’s thoughts began to race. Her mind flashed back to a lesson from her mother. Once puberty hit, Julia had taught her daughter some basic defensive strategies. It was perhaps the only useful mothering she had ever done. “Make them underestimate you, think you’re not a threat. Then go for the eyes and the groin. Fingernails are good. Car keys are better.” November’s fear crystallized into an icy clarity.

November looked up at the unknown fairy and allowed her mouth to tremble. “Please don’t hurt me,” she whispered, tears beginning to flow.

A moment later, she slumped down to the floor in an apparent faint. As the fairy swore and bent down to check on her, her hand came up with the crucifix of her rosary between her fingers, and she planted it firmly in his left eye as she brought her knee up between his legs.

He began to scream, tearing at his face. November tried to run past him to the door, but he grabbed her ankle and gave it a yank, knocking her to the floor and climbing on top of her. He began to hit her even as her rosary was still sticking out of his eye, landing blows on her ribs and her face as she tried to protect herself with her arms.

“I should kill you, you little whore,” he screamed, but then seemed suddenly to weaken. “What have you done?” he whispered as light suddenly began to pour from his wound. She closed her eyes reflexively as the light grew brighter and brighter; her eyelids glowed red. There was one more scream, and when she opened her eyes, her assailant was gone. Her rosary sat in the middle of an empty floor.

The adrenaline was such that she felt none of her injuries as yet. Her shock held her still for a moment as she sat on the floor, staring at the place her attacker should have been, not comprehending what her eyes were telling her. The sound of screaming out in the parking lot reanimated her; she grabbed her rosary and stood up, having absolutely no idea what she was going to do. Her clarity of mind returned, and she used her ability to peer at what was happening on the other side of the door. Willow seemed to be holding her own, but Pine was in desperate straits, on the ground, his attacker above him.

November finally remembered the case of gear the two knights had loaded into the trunk. Praying that Pine had left the car unlocked, she took a deep breath and ran as fast as she could to the car. Relieved to find the car open, she popped the trunk, pulled out the shovels, and opened the case.

Carefully cradled in foam sat a variety of silver weapons with leather-wrapped handles along with a couple of firearms. Having no idea how to aim and shoot, she grabbed a silver-tipped mace and placed a coil of silver chain over her shoulder. She began to move toward Pine. His attacker had his back to November, and she hoped he was too engrossed in enjoying his imminent victory to notice a weak little human. He turned to look at her just as she got close enough to strike, and she hit him full in the face with all her weight behind the blow.

The painful shock to her arm and shoulders caused her to drop the heavy mace, but she was still able to throw the chain over her enemy while he was on the ground, clutching his head and recovering from her assault. The injured fairy’s cry distracted his remaining partner-in-crime just enough for Willow to get the upper hand. She sliced into her opponent’s neck, and at the instant his head was separated from his body, he turned to a flash of light. Willow placed her hands on her thighs, bent over with exertion, and assessed the scene with a few efficient glances before she began issuing orders.

“November, move everything currently in the trunk to the floor in the rear. Then help Pine get in the back seat. Start the car and sit in the front passenger side. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” November replied, moving quickly to do her part. As she did, Willow secured the surviving assailant and tossed him in the trunk.

The fairy then turned her attention to the crowd of witnesses who were watching from the entrance to the store. She enthralled them into forgetting it all and tampered with the surveillance system, moving quickly enough to be practically invisible. They sped away and were already halfway up the on-ramp by the time they heard sirens approaching the gas station.

I challenge you to read She Dies at the End and decide for yourself.  Is it better than Twilight?