ocvictor: (Not French)
Why didn't Victor go out last night? Even though the feature at the Java Hut was [livejournal.com profile] mom_star, who is undeniably one of my favorite local poets?

Because last night was the night my two most demanding projects decided to speak up and command my attention with a near Lovecraftian sort of inhuman presence. Even when dragged out of the house for a moment yesterday -- say, to the grocery store -- I walked the Trader Joe's aisles like a man possessed, brain completely full of "Nihilist Chic" and "The November 3rd Club."

Yesterday was the day submissions closed for the next Nov3rd issue. As expected, there was a flurry of last minute e-mails, a few of them quite good. For a short while, those bits go out of my hands and into the very capable section editors' hands. Which is fine, as both of my columnists filed on time, so I have that to keep me busy. Not to mention sorting out art.

Still, I love the damn thing, am amazed at the interest it continues to draw. It's given me a chance to work with an amazing group of writers and editors, and that alone makes it all worthwhile.

The novel, on the other hand, continues to be a mostly solitary pursuit, and is probably the single largest drain on my attention, because I'm nearing the end of the third draft. At the end of the second draft, it was a fairly slim 40K words. Now it's somewhere between 45K and 50K, which is still slim, but eh. It doesn't want to be much longer.

It's funny, because the plot keeps "tweaking" a little bit -- things happened for different reasons, dialog ends up in different characters' mouths (the fact that it works meaning it should have been there in the first place.)

Still, almost done, and much of what's left in the remainder of the second draft is pretty violence which I was mostly happy with the first time. Soon, I begin the much-less fun process of sending out queries and manuscripts to editors and agents. On the one hand, I'm blessed because I've had a long and diverse literary career, and know a lot of people who are willing to at least give something I send 'em a read.

But let's not kid ourselves. This is still my first novel: very soon, this journal will likely become a documentation of torment and despair. Should be fun!


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Victor David Infante

April 2017

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