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