The Catalyst
January 4, 2020.
You know the feeling — you don’t know what you want to watch. Forty-five minutes of negotiations. A shortlist narrowed to three. A reluctant consensus.
Then you open Netflix.
And there it is.
Whatever we had planned to watch that night disappeared. The moment I saw Claes Bang as Dracula, the decision was made.
I had never heard of him before, but that didn’t matter. One look and I knew: this was the one. The one I'd been searching for — waiting for — my whole life. It turns out I have very specific opinions about Count Dracula — who he is, how he speaks, what he wears, what makes him tick.
I don’t argue about many things, but Dracula is one of them.
Bang’s performance locked something into place for me, satisfying something I'd long craved. His performance felt different than anything else I'd seen before, an outstandng blend of charm, menace, and the undeniable magnetism required to make the character feel real.
Claes in BBC's Dracula (2020), episodes one, two, and three from left to right
The 2020 series was a work of art, from start to finish, Dolly Wells and John Heffernan delivered outstanding performances alongside Bang. Writers Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss walked the line between reverence and creativity with confidence. Everyone from set design to costumes, locations, and sets — everything was perfect. The first two episodes are fresh but faithful adaptations of the original story while the third episode — divisive, modern, and irreverent — takes a risk. I admired that, because it did what adaptation should do: it honored the source without being trapped by it.
And that’s when the question arose in my mind: If I wrote a Dracula story, how would I do it?
What would I preserve?
What would I change?
How would I make it my own?
The ideas came fast. Notes became outline, outlines became structure, and four years later I had my first novel drafted — a feat I hadn't even considered before Bang brought Dracula to life — before I was struck with inspiration so powerful it gave rise to a new career.
Two questions loomed in my mind as I thought about Dracula, and these questions shaped how The Burning of Saint-Gilles came to life.
What happened between Dracula and the Church?
Why the crucifix — and not other sacred symbols? If Dracula represents evil in its purest form, shouldn’t any symbol of divinity or faith provoke the same reaction? The Star of David? The Star and Crescent? Prayer beads?
We don't really see that — and that tells us something important: there is history there.
So I wrote it.
Who was Dracula’s mystery lover referenced in Stoker’s novel?
There is one bombshell line in Stoker's novel, but it's often overlooked and forgotten:
“You yourself never loved. You never love!”
And Dracula’s quiet reply:
“Yes, I too can love… you yourselves can tell it from the past.”
That’s not a throwaway line, that's something important. Adaptations have flirted with it — usually through a Mina Harker love triangle that feels forced. But there is a real story behind that line — a significant one.
I wrote the love story I believed belonged there.
© Copyright 2026 Rian C. Stone. All rights reserved.