making the vampire sexting movie that would have saved me

By Nicole Viloria Castro

I never thought I’d openly talk about sexting, about my addiction to it. It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? For a long time, I felt ashamed. I’d log in on this questionable website day after day, make up new scenarios, and truly believe that I was never going to be liked romantically. This fantasy could only exist in fiction. Besides, who would like someone who doesn’t experience sexual attraction the regular way? There was something wrong with me, and I was sure sexting could fix it.

I lived life in two: on one hand I was happy to turn my emotions into art, but on the other hand, I had accepted I’d always be alone. Growing up, I always turned to fiction to find the answers to my problems. This was the only thing a movie never fixed; I never found a movie that had a character who felt like me.

The day everything I did became comedic, when I finally understood and accepted myself and made a connection in the real world, I knew what was next.

I knew I had a movie. It was going to be extremely personal, but I was ready. Soon after this realization, my friend Valentina sent me a post on Instagram about Resisting Narratives of Erasure. A grant to make a short film. At the time, I was in pre-production for my short Pichi. It wasn’t until the night I wrapped production, and when the application was due, that I submitted my vampire sexting idea. Everything was history after that.

Receiving the news I had been selected as a Fellow changed everything for me. I had just graduated from Yale and didn’t know what was my next step as a filmmaker. I just knew I had healed from my sexting addiction. I was back in Miami, and I knew exactly who I was going to talk to first.

Alejandro Solanilla made a short film about the stealing of the elections in Venezuela in 2024, and I fell in love with it. “Should I reach out?” I asked myself again and again. He seemed to have a lot of industry experience, and I was just starting out. But, what started with a DM turned into a Zoom meeting that soon transformed into our partnership for this project. Alejandro became my DP and co-producer in the journey we were about to embark on.

With such a small budget and a short period of time, we knew from the beginning it would be a challenge to pull this off. It wasn’t an easy story, but we were determined.

The writing process was long. This has been one of my hardest projects to write— I thought, while crying and reminiscing through old journal and note entries. For the first time ever, I thought about the score during the writing process. My mentor, Ebony, suggested that. So, I listened to the soundtrack of The White Lotus on loop as I finished my first draft. How do you put into words and dialogue and scenes your own addiction? Through comedy.

As I wrote this, I could only ask myself, who will do all this? Who will pull it off? My intention for the character of Cleo was always the opposite of pity; it was for people to see asexuality as just another trait in someone’s personality. Something normal. Cleo is the girl who would have saved me, and I found her.

Crystal Ortiz brought Cleo to life. I went through many tapes. I put a casting call on Instagram, TikTok, Backstage. I worried no one would understand her. Too quirky, too dark, too cynical, too childish, too desperate. But, Crystal got her. And Mike? The first person Cleo connects with in real life? Michael Adeshina stole the role. The moment I saw him on my laptop, I started laughing. He got him. Merry Jo Cortada as the therapist? She was a delight to work with.

My short started coming together, my world. My house worked to fit both locations, an extraordinary Miami team came together to make this happen, and my family and friends supported me along the way.

vampirebabygirl is my third short film. But, this one felt different. It wasn’t like anything I’d done before. As I was making it, as the script kept evolving, I knew something was true: Cleo’s story was turning into a feature. This will be my debut feature. My story. The story that saves those who have felt alone before.

As I sat alongside the other RNE Fellows at The Tara Theatre in Atlanta, Georgia, and I heard the audience laugh as my film was being shown, I knew this was only the beginning.