Where do writers get their ideas? Sometimes from an overheard conversation, an odd historical footnote, a chance observation, or a surprising contrast.
In my case, the inspiration for my debut urban fantasy novel, ‘The Curse of the Unholy Grail‘ (TCUG), began with a question about the two New Testament accounts of Judas Iscariot’s death.
How Judas Iscariot Inspired a Vampire Story
Then Judas, which had betrayed him, when he saw that he was condemned, repented himself, and brought again the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and elders, … And he cast down the pieces of silver in the temple, and departed,
and went and hanged himself.–Matthew 27:3–5
versus
… concerning Judas, [who] was guide to them that took Jesus. …
and falling headlong,
he burst asunder in the midst,
and all his bowels gushed out.
… that field is called … Aceldama, … The Field of Blood.–Acts 1:16-19
Well, what is a speculative-fiction and fantasy author supposed to do with those competing images other than to reconcile them in the most obvious, straight-forward, Occam’s-Razor-conforming way:
Clearly, Judas roped himself to a tree and, because the wages of his betrayal of the Christ was vampirism, as dawn broke, and the monster he’d become thrashed against his bonds, his sunlight-ravaged flesh could not withstand his own vampiric strength, bursting him open to die amid the purifying rays of the sun. Hanged AND burst asunder — contradiction eliminated.
And ‘Field of Blood’, well, Acts’ author, Luke, is basically screaming it: vampire!
I mean, that’s just math.
The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions
But what if it wasn’t the act of betrayal itself that caused Judas to become a vampire, instead what if vampire powers was just a sweetener in the temptation package?
What if vampirism was key to Judas becoming the ‘hero’ in his own story?
No way that trivial, vanilla, rank-and-file vamp powers could tempt an apostle to betray the Christ. That’s as dumb as assuming $30 in coins would do it. But arising as a creature with the power to remake the world, arising with complete authority over an undead army that he could direct to any purpose, … Judas could use this power to usher in an Earthly paradise, a moral era based on the Christ’s noble precepts (which, in Judas’ eyes, an overly timid Jesus had stopped short of enacting).
He knows that to save humanity from itself requires sacrifice. Sacrifice of humanity’s freedom, in particular.
Well, now we’re talking.
Judas, The Last Supper, and His Unearthly Transformation
No one can just will themselves to become the emperor of the undead, of course. An offer must be tendered, a bargain accepted, a ritual partaken, a device employed.
Enter The Unholy Grail.
A sip brings transubstantiation into incorruptible, undying eternity.
A sip imparts sovereignty over the dead. And through them, through their force and terror, righteousness.
Such is the only way to compel a cruel and greedy humanity to love thy neighbor, have compassion for the poor, and reject unbridled pursuit of wealth, fame, and power. And the only way to immortalize Christendom. Even around the year three-dozen CE, that should have been obvious.
Again, that’s just math.
And so we have Luke 22:3, “Then entered Satan into Judas.”
Except at some point anyone would realize that becoming a blood-sucking fiend means maybe you’ve departed from righteousness’ path. Too late a realization for Judas. Sorrowful repentance, yet no means of undoing, he hanged himself in grief, yet falling headlong he burst.
Would anyone truly expect a different ending imbibing from Satan’s drinkware?
Oh, but the lure of blood so black blooms evergreen.
What’s In It For Satan?
Why would Satan allow Judas to impose a higher morality on humankind? Wouldn’t Satan be aware that, among mortals, absolute power corrupts absolutely?
For the Prince of Darkness, nothing would be so amusing as to watch Judas decay under the delusion that he could bring about paradise better than Christ could.
Should such great power lead to the suffering of millions, perhaps even to the repudiation of Christendom, so much the more gleeful for Satan.
For this reason, Hell occasionally sends the Unholy Grail back to Earth, just to watch the chaos ensue (like D&D’s the Wand of Orcus. Where do writers get their ideas? Indeed.)
In TCUG, we allude to reappearances during the Black Death, during the American Revolution, during Nazi Germany’s war to conquer Europe. The promise of the Grail was never fulfilled, but it didn’t have to be for waves of great evil and despair to sweep the Earth.
And, naturally, Heaven finds champions to rise up against the Unholy Grail’s use, to nip that in the bud. To be explicit, I said ‘champions’, not ‘saints.’
Who’ll Stop the Apocalypse But The FBI?
Which brings us to FBI Special Agent Nicole Lange.
Her latent dhampiric state lay dormant until it was activated by a vampire (a former bishop during the final days of the Spanish Inquisition), a man who, even in death, had sworn to defend the world against the Unholy Grail.
But What is a Dhampir? And why should you read books about them? They’re a bridge between the natural and supernatural/unnatural realms. Human agency yet vampiric powers (which we all hope make the Grail’s offer less tempting).
Lange’s grandfather was the first known dhampir in her bloodline. He was the champion who rose to keep the Grail out of Hitler’s hands.
Nikki herself grew up knowing nothing of her lineage, but fate maneuvered her back into the Grail’s orbit anyway.
As an FBI agent tasked with stopping arms trafficking, she’s crossed paths with Harlon Cord, the kingpin of arms dealers. A man who picked up the Grail’s legend and has allied himself with a vampire prince to secure Cord’s rule over the army of the dead. It is with Cord’s trying to dispose of Nikki that our tale begins. Read the opening chapter of The Curse of the Unholy Grail.
But the Grail whispers schemes and sings triumphant ballads and paints bright futures. And just as it did for Judas, the Grail opens Nicole Lange’s eyes: She’s not here to save the world from the Grail, but to save the world via the Grail. To save us all — from ourselves.
Developing a Novel Idea: ‘What Ifs’ and ‘Five Whys’
In his book, The Anatomy of Story, John Truby advises writers to take their premise idea and apply ‘what if’ to the components. You do this to brainstorm the different (and maybe fresh) paths the idea can take, to identify the normal expectations an audience might have and twist them a tad, to put down maze walls of the allowed and the not that the characters must navigate.
What if the artifact that seduced Judas resurfaces today? What if it confers limitless power, enough to make a paradise on Earth … or dystopian ruin of it? What if the artifact’s allure is irresistible to all but those already half-damned? What if devils oppose it but your own family embraces it … and increasingly so do you?
Why Writers Should ‘Five Why’
Engineers often use a technique for looking backward in a causal chain to understand the source of flaws or uncover a potential vulnerability: The Five Whys. Basically, don’t assume the immediate cause didn’t itself have a cause. The car won’t start, why? Dead battery. Battery’s dead why? Alternator not working? Why? Belt’s broken. Why? Car hasn’t been in for maintenance since 2012. You get the idea.
Usually there’s an epiphany in one or more logical links, e.g. neglecting car maintenance risks tons of other stuff soon breaking. Safeguard a lot by tackling that one epiphanous issue.
Writers can use five whys to thread scenes, character decisions, bad-guy reveals, etc. together in a cause-and-effect chain. When you explore the events, goals, and actions this way, you get a cohesion. You also identify which seeds you need to plant ahead of time to make the zinger scene land as inevitable and believable.
The exercise might lead all the way to the protagonists backstory and, like car maintenance, you get the epiphany that touches and enriches a ton of other scenes and interactions.
(Trying to avoid spoilers here, but …) FBI agent Nicole Lange accepts the bargain to become a dhampir to stop the Unholy Grail, why? Because she barely escaped a vampire attack. Why? Because she snooped around the Grail hiding place. Why? Because of the GPS trail of the murdered man. Why? Because the villain was afraid the man would contact the FBI. Why? Because the villain has acquired the apocalyptic Unholy Grail. Why? Because Satan is still keen to tear down humankind, the unworthy mistake of God’s creation.
With the two techniques, what-ifs and five-whys, you get a story that’s fresh and complex yet structured and cohesive. As a reader, you now also have an understanding of how to spot which details add texture and which glue. And, too, now you know how they played a role in the making of TCUG.
From Competing Verses to Urban Fantasy Novel
The Judas-as-vampire theory never actually appears in The Curse of the Unholy Grail. It was just the thought experiment that started the whole ball rolling.
But a few what-ifs turned a biblical curiosity into an artifact of unimaginable power. A few whys gave that artifact a history, a purpose, a wake of human catastrophe, and a threat of ending civilization. Add to the mix an FBI agent with an inconvenient supernatural legacy, a woman finding herself standing between humanity continuing or ceasing, and that’s how a novel gets born.
If you enjoy urban fantasy where biblical mythology, vampire lore and magic systems, and modern conspiracies collide, then you should enjoy The Curse of the Unholy Grail.
That’s just math.
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