The excitement is building in a two horse race to see whose book gets into print first, my latest novel, Killing, or Bob Rubenstein's The White Bridge. Maybe they will become available the same day. Wouldn't that be wild? I just got the rest of Bob's final proof, which I will scan for errors, using the red lines of Word as a guide. This morning my literary angel, Victoria Valentine of Water Forest Press, sent me what I hope is the final proof of Killing. I've gone through a third of it already. It looks great so far. I requested one change. Victoria used her standard disclaimer. The second line states something along the lines that all characters are fictional. There are two historical figures who appear on the fringes of the narrative. Although I do not use his name, referring to him solely as the Dapper Don or John or Johnny, John Gotti appears briefly, led away from the courthouse on the day of his sentencing. Bill Clinton is referred to frequently in the last few chapters and also makes an appearance. Neither man has any dialogue. They are seen through the eyes of the protagonist, Dante, whose is going through a sort of hell. I could have used a fictional name for the historical figures, but it would have seemed as phony as the way Hollywood sometimes uses a real TV news person in film. The identities of the men in question would have been so obvious. Bob doesn't have to worry about any of this, as all the historical figures he cites and quotes are long dead. He can use them as he sees fit, and say awful things about them. Gotti has passed away. I don't say much about his crimes. The book is not about him. The former president parties on. I don't touch on his politics. He relates to Dante in a specific way.
It was a gloomy day with a lot of moisture in the air. I thank the gentleman who took the time to pause at the viaduct on Avenue Z and purchase an oldies CD. Speaking of oldies - now playing on the Classic Oldies stream: the Four Tops I Can't Help Myself. I have a vivid picture of hearing Fran Venetucci singing along with Levi McCall's great vocal in her room on the second floor of her parents' two-story house as I stood alone in the street, smiling. Her younger brother Tony, affectionately known as Yer, used to play his records to death on an old Victrola. I'd guess his favorite was from the disco era - the bodacious France Joli's Come to Me, or maybe Frankie Valli's Swearin' to God. He had another nickname, HD, which those who don't know what it stands for will have to guess. It is not fit for a family station such as this.
Life is so rich. Why do we lose sight of that so often?
Read Vic's stories, free: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature
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