“I think the original impulse was, what if there’s a vampire who has figured out, he’s in a strange like kind of purgatory, like recovery, like recovery from an addiction or something, and he’s in a pretty sour place in his relationship as well because he’s realized that he’s not, he doesn’t have to be a monster, you know, that he doesn’t have to be governed by this appetite, and also that it wasn’t in fact fixing anything for him, helping him at all. But he really doesn’t have a new story that’s giving him any kind of consolation. I mean he’s really sort of stuck, he’s just sort of—he’s got these lemons that are like vampire methadone or something, you know. So that, I think, as a way to think through—and I, it’s funny because there’s I think the same questions that sort of will plague us on a regular Tuesday often bother these characters.”
The reader never learns whether there are other vampires, besides Clyde and his partner, Magreb, nor what their ideal form of sustenance is—though both lemons and blood can be ruled out.
“So, it turns out that there are many myths that I don’t have to believe about myself,” she said, adopting the vampire’s point of view. “I thought of it in a weird way as kind of analogous to overcoming any kind of addiction, alcoholism or whatever, where there’s this funny Limbo, you know, sort of like what do you do, how do you avoid, um, despair now, now that you’ve discovered that this isn’t necessary, it was never the solution? Kind of, what’s next?”