The Amnesia of Junebugs Finally Sent to Janklow + Nesbit

1. I completely finished revising The Amnesia of Junebugs. i can't even begin to explain to you what an enormous relief this is. i've been working on it for 2 years now and i'm finally done with it, the draft, the global paper and electronic revisions, like, really done, at least until a publishing house tears it apart again, but like i care.

2. I sent a finished copy of it to Priscilla Gilman, one of the literary agents at Janklow & Nesbit, who has been expecting my manuscript for several months now.

3. Now i can focus more on story submissions again, working on my short story collection that i'm planning on submitting next year, and a spawn of new flash fiction.

4 Things in the Writerly World I Have to Deal with, Now + Always

1. I got a great rejection from indiana review, but to be honest, it hurt so much i almost wish i hadn't received it. it said:

Jackson, we really seriously considered this piece, i admired the ambition, energy, scope--a fun read for sure. ultimately, however, we couldn't place it. please do try us again in the future. all best, megan savage, fiction editor.

I appreciate Megan taking the time to write that, that was supercool of her. but to know you were so close, and then not picked, i have to say, it hurts alot more in a way. for hours afterwards, i'd feel fine, and then i'd remember that rejection letter and get depressed. despite my modest publication history, i still haven't penetrated the elite paper literary journal market yet, and to be honest, i don't know why. it's just like in jack london's martin eden, the rejections feel as arbitrary as the acceptances. it doesn't matter that that taste corrupts technical estimation, i just think it's about time my stories starting hitting the airwaves so to speak. universe : i'm ready. me : are you?

2. Compare this to the one-size-fits-all rejection letter i got from harper's today, which was so impersonal it was funny, but hey, it didn't hurt at all. it was like being rejected by the wrong magazine, like being rejected by a spammer, like reading someone else's mail.

3.The date for my reading at Notre Dame is now officially 6 february. can't wait to hit the mic. wish i had the cajones to wear a leisure suit with rhinestones. But because I don't, here's my Arts Everywhere Blurb instead:



4. I'm halfway done with my master novel revision. it's taking longer than i anticipated.

2nd Story Accepted in 2007

i just found out a version of a chapter from The Amnesia of Junebugs was picked up and is gonna be published in one of my FAVE journals--Word Riot. Fuck yeah! Anyway, i think it's one of the best online journals there is 'sides 3am, identity theory and verbsap, so i'm really stoked about this. Stay tuned for more details peeps. "The Space between Brooklyn and Manhattan" is coming out in the July issue.

Stats Don't Lie, Motherfucker

Since I'm leaving Sobe probably for good, here is a final tally of my productivity stats:

I'm gonna leave sobe in 2 days having written:

1. A complete 434-page novel
2. Sixteen new pieces of creative non-fiction
3. Twenty-six new pieces of flash fiction
4. Six new short stories
5. One really terrible napkin poem
6. Nine little hip-hop single review blurbs so far like this one

And i've published a bunch of stuff too, which is cool.

Okay, now, time to pack, and time to move back to my city. CHITOWN! CHITOWN! here i come. . .

Disengaging Myself from this MFA Program

Looking forward to completely disengaging myself from this MFA program in 6 days (exceptions for bee, lily, tom, tim, lynne, colby, v and ls). i'm just not giving more of my sacred time and energy to some of these insecure, childish, unforgiving and selfish people anymore. the karmic bitch slap leaves a bit of a sting my friends, but i'm not going to be the one doing the slapping.

Passed the 400-Page Mark

So it's true, i'm now on page 403 of my novel, and i think i should be completely done with this draft before next week--something i didn't even dream was possible. i pretty much just banked on finishing The Amnesia of Junebugs in chicago, but now it looks like i'll be able to finish this draft, send a copy to valerie before i move, and then sit on it for a couple of weeks before revising it into shape. man, i'm so happy about this. it's amazing how when you're writing alot, not just everyday, but when you're writing copiously, you get high off the fumes of artistic creation.

Closure

I'm on the last real chapter of my novel (which is actually, the beginning) and it's coming along beautifully. right now i'm at on page 386, and i think it's gonna be around 400 pages, but that's cool. i'm hoping to finish this draft of my book by the end of this week, or the weekend, giving me enough time to revise 2 stories and 1 memoir this weekend so i can print them out with my surplus printing balance at the library next week.

Also, I checked my grades today and i got another 4.0 leaving my cumulative gpa at 3.96. what this really means is, i'm gonna graduate, and that's so fucking sick.

Getting Buzzed with Dave Griffin

Well, i'm kinda buzzed. i met Dave Griffin for some drinks at joe's. no, wait, it's not called joe's, it's called frank's. anyway, we had a fucking awesome conversation about:

writing

teaching at a university (DG just recently scored an awesome tenure gig at Sweet Briar College in Virginia for 50k a year, can you imagine being paid 50k a year as a writer? that's practically unheard of)

lit v commercial writing

Bakhtin and Chris Isaak

giving readers treats

the value of entertainment in writing

self-promotion and the hustler

dg's time at the university of memphis where he kicked it with Richard Bausch, author of 9 novels and 5 short story collections

the importance of writing for an audience instead of writing for one's self

rick moody's demonology, writing the preface for John Cheever's collected works

the PLA punks from phillie

Lynn Nesbit

being able to buy copies of the VIRGIN SUICIDES at urban outfitters

Sofia Copola and David Lynch flicks

It was one kick-ass conversation.

Working on Last Chapter of The Amnesia of Junebugs

Well, i'm def not done at all, but i'm now officially working on the LAST CHAPTER of my novel. i can't fucking believe it. i've been working on this little bastard since first semester of my first year (August 2005). a few things i've accepted about it:

1. it's gonna be around 400 pages. there's just no way around it.

2. it's cooler and much more flawed than i thought it was gonna be.

3. once i'm done with this draft, i need to sit on it for a few weeks, and then revise the hell out of it.

4. and then, send it to lynn nesbit.

5. writing a novel is simultaneously the most natural thing i've ever done--far more natural for me than writing a short story which reminds me of someone trying to fit all of his clothes into a tiny suitcase--and by far, the most demanding and intense thing, artistically i've ever done.

6. writing a novel, even more than a collection of short stories, is the very definition and essence of h. bergson's theory of élan vital, no question about it.

7. this novel is gonna be fucking big man.

Now, i really need to take a shower and think about something else.

Rejections Make Me Listen to Gangsta Rap

I went on a marathon walk up st joe's river, near iusb, then i turned around, walked on the east race boardwalk, which i didn't even know existed all the way to the end and then back home, and i did all of this listening to glock-obsessed rap music that put some attitude in my head nodding. This put me in my gangsta mode to deal with this shit. . .

I know this is the name of the game, but frankly, this past week i've been getting so goddamn sick of rejections. i don't even understand how the worst story in the whole world--statistically speaking--could get rejected that many times, morever, a really good story. the numbers aren't in our favor, but still, sometimes, i still have to keep asking myself, why is it so fucking difficult to publish an awesome short story of mine, and why do i keep reading stories in journals that are like hmm, or ho-hum, and sometimes, oh nice, but almost never, holy shit. i mean, i haven't read one short story in one journal that is technically perfect yet, and that's normal, and my stories certainly aren't anywhere near being perfect either. but why can one of those great but imperfect short stories be one of mine? it's annoying the shit out me and putting me in a really bad mood today. . . hence, the ghetto star rap i've been enjoying so much. i understand now, more than ever, why there are more literary journals than there has ever been in america. paradoxically, there aren't more lit journal readers, there are just more journals, and why? cuz writers are sick of rejections. there can't be another explanation. one day, another writer says, you know what? fuck this, i'm gonna start my own shit.

I must have received 5 or 6 really encouraging rejection letters from Missouri review, but i just can't seem to get a yes from those fuckers. okay, i luv the Missouri review, but i really wish they'd finally publish one of my stories. literary publishing is like the greatest cock tease/drive by of all time.

Finished with My MFA

I can't believe it, i'm all done with everything. go aji go!!!

After:

my mfa thesis reading
my japanese oral exam
my written japanese final
my mfa thesis
a gazillion quizzes and tests
a 100 kanji later

I'm all done with everything. i'm gonna graduate and everything. i'm so stoked about this. i can't possibly tell some of you how excited i am to have closure on grad school after having to leave yale when i was too poor to finish, this really means alot to me. and i had to work so damn hard to get here, to get accepted into a mfa program when i was a americorps volunteer living on 700 bucks a month and foodstamps in chicago, and to graduate, and it's been worth every moment and i'm so grateful. in two to three weeks, i'm gonna sit down, look at my diploma that came in the mail, and say, yo, i have a masters degree now. and that's so fucking rad for me. it means the world to me. and if there's truly a spirit world, it means everything to my obaasama too.

Now, i just have to pack, and work on my novel. i have 2 weeks to pack, 2 weeks to finish my book, and around a month or so--give or take, well, another month or so--to revise before i send lynn nesbit my finished draft. i think this summer is gonna be rad. i can barely contain my joy.

Sunlight Drowns the Best Excuse

When i was talking to kpg yesterday about why it hurt my feelings that no one went to my b-day party, she had a list of excuses for everyone, and i was like, ho-hum, some of those are legit, but a lot of those are really bad fucking excuses, and as she was talking, it made me realize how good we are rationalizing things when we don't want to do something. we all are. and that helped me understand that people didn't ditch me cuz they necessarily dislike me, though some do i' m sure, but because i'm not a priority to people. and now that i understand that, it's simplified my life in this program immensely. i don't hate the peeps in the program for marginalizing me, i just know it's not the place i wanna donate more energy to. my energy, my mind, my creativity, my time--they're sacred.

Paperwork + Soba Noodles

Today i drudged through hours and hours of formatting hell with my book after i decided to add my photoshop cover to my novel in progress, which, for some inexplicable reason, changed the columns in my dual narrative chapters and created random space in one chapter. i wondered why i suddenly had an extra 10 pages. anyway, this final assis chapter is coming along, but not even close to done yet. i'm looking foward to finishing this and writing my 3rd and final split screen chapter this week, and next week i'll hopefully start the final chapter.

I got an email from lynn nesbit's office a few days ago that said, sorry, we had a misunderstanding. the consensus here--in the new publishing world, god i wish--is that you're a very good writer (chin up kiddo) but we need a complete manuscript before we can decide whether to take you on as a client. in a way, though, this was the perfect impetus to finish my novel cuz now i have someone to write for again now that i'm 3 weeks from graduating and ditching this school cafeteria.

My rejection from 9th letter was depressing. even after i became friends with the cnf editor, Juan Sanchez, who's a cool dude, i still couldn't publish my piece. no luv from the cnf putos.

My consolation? Yakitate japan anime (i'm sad that i only have 6 episodes left--a sure sign of my addiction). Also, I bought these great frozen soba noodles, and with a good miso base and some okonomi sauce, it's really quite something.

1,001 Nights, Junot Diaz + Asobi Seksu

Tonight has been just like 1,001 nights. my frame narrative subsumes all these little minnie narratives until i've forgotten what the frame narrative was. it was like this:

I was fucking around online, and thought i'd go to the website of this japanese singer i really like--遊びセクス--when i thought, hm, i should compare the shipping costs of having this cd sent overseas from asia with the costs of having it sen via amazon, so then, i'm on the amazon website, and before you know it, i'm looking at new ds lite videogames, rpg, yoshi's island, final fantasy 3 reviews that i've already read before, and then somehow i ended up looking up anime dvd's, which led retroactively to manga, and before i knew it, i found my way back to music, and there was asobi seksu's eponymously named album, and sure enough, it was cheaper. well, i was about to buy that, and then the amazon add said, spend, i dunno, 18 more dollars Jackson, and shipping is free. well, i thought, that's not alot, so then i took a peak at other cd's, and i found feist's new album that comes out 1 may, and i thought, okay, i wanted this anyway, and i fucking luv her shit, so i'll just buy this and that should do it, but because amazon is selling it so cheap, i was short by like 2 dollars for free shipping, so then, i ended up back where i started, video games, anime, lit magazines, manga, and then, after looking up legal drug, i realized, i really want to order issue # 2 of that one manga, what was it called? i couldn't remember so i plopped down in front of my vent, near my other manga, freebies from my hachette internship and japanese books, and before i knew it, i forgot ALL ABOUT THE WHOLE POINT OF SITTING THERE, and i ended up reading two short stories by Junot Diaz i'd never touched before, "edison, new jersey" and "boyfriend," and it was only when i was flossing in the bathroom, that i realized, oh shit, that manga's called "eternal sabbath," so then once i was finished, i came back to my computer, my order in waiting, was still, well, waiting, to be ordered, and then i found a 2nd issue of eternal sabbath, and FINALLY placed my goddamn order. that has got to be the most complicated things i've ever done online, besides try to send a complete stranger porn in saudi arabia.

There's not doubt in my mind that Scheherazade would have been proud of me.

Winging the Short Story

I read a great story by celeste ng in one story. Despite its weak ending, it made me realize that i really don't have the slightest idea how to really write a story. or, said another way, i feel like all fiction writers wing it, and that's why sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't cuz we don't really know what we're doing (or we have to figure it out for each new story we write). And though a collection of paragraphs doesn't constitute a story necessarily, sometimes we hit just the right note. creatively, i'm at a good place, but technically, i could def improve. ng's story made me realize that.

Working on The Amnesia of Junebugs

I can't write anymore tonight. my forearms and eyes are fucking sore man. but, truth be told, my novel is coming along. i just finished the last Suzanne chapter, now i have one more Assis chapter, a few short flashback chapters and the ending and i'm done. at least with this draft. god, i'm gonna be so elated once i'm finished with this piece of élan vital. i'm already on page 348, but i've still got probably another 40 pages to go. really, when i think about that, that's nothing. 40 pages. but in some way, the last 20 matter the most. i will spend probably the next year revising just those last 20 pages. but for now, onward! just 40 more pages or so, and then i'm all done . . . i can't even explain the joy and delight that will take place inside my heart when i can say that, even about a well-written draft.