Journal Notes

Today I received the children’s book I wrote that supposed to be due out three months ago. The book is entitled The Christmas Adventures of Cowboy True. I’m glad the book is here. Jeff and Melissa Galpin, the illustrators on the project, did a wonderful job. The finished product is vibrant and eye catching. My only problem is IT’S JANUARY! So?the book will be in wide release for Christmas 2009. If you’d like an advanced copy email me and I’ll get one out to you. I’m off to LA at the end of this week. I’m feeling a little nervous about it. I really want these meetings to go well. One of my friends told me not to worry and to go and just “be myself.” “Be yourself” is about the worst advice you can give to some people. I’ve been doing that and it hasn’t worked out like I thought it would. I’ve narrowed down the careers I’m qualified to pursue should writing cease to be something that’s offered to me. A magician’s assistant and juggler are the only other skills I have. And I’m not very good a juggling. It’ll be okay, right? I am a little worried about driving to my appointment in LA. I am the worst driver. I should just drive a hearse and cut out the middleman. More later?I hope.

I will be in Los Angeles next week. I’ll have a chance to meet Jay O’Connell, the author who provided Howard Kazanjian and I a quote for the book Thunder Over the Prairie. I’m looking forward to that. Hopefully I’ll get a chance to meet with the promotional director for Barnes & Noble and discuss the in store publicity for the book. I’ve always enjoyed working with Barnes & Noble. I can’t say I’ve sold a lot of books when I’ve done signings there, but that’s not because they haven’t put their all into it. I’m uncertain about what to wear to LA. I generally dress like a real estate agent – business suit, heels, bouffant hair. Okay, so I dress like a real estate agent from the 60s. Maybe I’ll wear a dress. I know a lot of women wear dresses without pantyhose, but I can’t do it. And I have to wear Control Top pantyhose. I’ve found there’s no quicker way to flatten my stomach-and shut down my entire digestive tract. Guess I’ll have to go shopping. I’ll look from something from my favorite designer, On Sale. Before the holidays I decided I’d write a letter to my brother’s daughter from his first marriage. I knew it was a long shot that I’d hear anything back and I was right. It’s unfortunate, but not unexpected. I can’t help remembering one of the last times I saw her. She had gotten permission to go to a dance and I was going to do her hair and her step-sister’s hair. While I was doing her step-sister’s hair, her step-mother entered her bedroom and starting dumping clothing out of her dresser drawers and the closet. Then her step-mother ordered her to pick it up. I never got to help her get ready for her dance. I missed out on that and so did she. She was very upset over the incident. Her step-sister wasn’t made to pick up anything. It was reminiscent of a scene from Cinderella. The image of her on the floor, crying, putting all those clothes away is tattooed on my brain. What’s that have to do with trip to LA, what to wear or writing? I think those memories shape everything you do and every decision you make. From the most mundane such as how to dress, to the more complicated such as how to write a much needed letter.

Work on the Buffalo Bill book continues. I’ll have it done and out to the publishers by the middle of next month. I’ll have to set the material aside next Thursday. I’m supposed to be in Los Angeles to discuss a couple of scripts I’ve written that have been optioned. But I think my actual presence could only hurt the situation. I’d like to see things move along a little faster, but my heart isn’t as into the process as it used to be. I used to be so enamored of the industry. I didn’t realize luck played such an important part of getting a job. Lucky I’ve never been. My lucky number is four billion, which usually doesn’t come in handy when you?re say, gambling. “Come on, four billion?” I think there’s roughly four billion scripts my screenplays are competing against so you’d think my number would come up more often. It’s basically an industry for people (and by people I mean women writers) in their 20s and 30s. I’m fighting fifty?which is too old for gymnastics and Hollywood. I’m not complaining? (although I can see how one might think I am)? it just is. There’s a Star Trek convention going on the same time I’m in town, maybe I’ll forego any meetings and attend that event instead and just people watch. The crowds fascinate me. I never really understood the people who participate so fervently in those conventions. I mean, I like Mary Tyler Moore too, but I don’t rent out a big hall and dress up like Rhoda. I might feel differently about all of this tomorrow. In the meantime, I’m glad I’ve got Buffalo Bill.

Rejection. I’ve experienced a lot of rejection as a writer. Well, not just as a writer?. You’d think I’d be used to it. But it still stings. One of my books was recently rejected by Bethany House publishing. I was sure hoping that material would be approved. It seems like when you’re down about disappointing circumstances in life you can’t escape other people who are feeling the same way. It’s a little comforting I guess and I’m ashamed that it?s that way. Misery does love company. Just look at a fly strip. You never see a fly stuck there saying, “Go around! Go around! Rejection is just a nature of the line of work I’m in. But I’m in good company. William Young, the gentlemen who wrote The Shack, had his book rejected by more than a dozen publishers. Young kept trying. He kept making submissions and someone finally said, “yes”. The book became a bestseller. That’s the happy ending I’m looking for. Maybe several happy endings. I need it to make up for some of the rejection letters I’ve received. One rejected letter said, “Opened by mistake.” Another one said, “You’re one of those writers who is worth watching. Not reading; just watching.” One of the difficult aspects of this job is to keep writing after you’ve been told that you can’t. But that’s what I’ve got to do. Maybe it’s not too late for clown college.

Prior to the holidays, my friend Lisa, loaned me a copy of a book entitled Forgiving the Dead Man Walking. I had shared with her many times about how I struggle with an unforgiving spirit. The book, written by Debbie Morris, is the untold other half of Dead Man Walking, the movie that depicted killer Robert Willie’s death-row relationship with spiritual advisor Helen Prejean. Debbie was one of Willie’s victims and in her book she recounts the story of being kidnapped by him in gripping detail. She is living testimony to the grace we long for; grace that shines more brightly than we dare believe, bright enough to triumph over the darkest evil. Morris divides the work of forgiveness into two areas or goals: salvage and restoration. She pointed out that “there are times we’ve been hurt when the only reasonable goal is to find a way to get over the incident, to minimize the damage, to get on with the healing, to learn from the experience, and to move on. Making the best you can from a past experience is the goal of what she termed “salvage.” I want so much to grasp this concept. To make it alive in my life. I’ve been mad for so long over the situation with my brother. Mad at the injustice, the lies, and deception, especially from one of the attorneys my family and I hired. I don’t believe this particular law firm cared anything about my brother. Cared anything about defending his rights. I will go to my grave believing they had some underline deal going with the prosecution. I learned yesterday that they have been monitoring my website. No explanation was given when I called to inquire. I’m more suspicious of them now than ever. I can’t help but wonder which one of their current clients is getting billed for them to watch my website. All that being said, the ultimate goal must be forgiveness. Debbie Morris writes, “How badly do we want to be healed? For so many years my reluctance to forgive was like a darkness inside, a barrier that barred joy and love and so many good things from my life. Forgiveness smashed the barrier and has enabled me to experience the giving and receiving of love again.” I want that. I want what forgiveness can deliver. I still miss my brother and feel very sad and guilty about asking him to take a plea. I shouldn’t have done it. He’s innocent. Justice won’t do a thing to heal me though. Forgiveness will.

It was an encouragement to read the following review for the book Frontier Teachers. Great way to start 2009! “Teachers were the female trailblazers of the West, yet they often are overlooked. Thanks to Chris Enss, who once again breaks new ground in the realm of historic women, we learn teachers often inspired many who went on to progress in the frontier. She tells the stories of 12 women who come from different circumstances but share the same goal-furthering education. Eliza Mott taught the alphabet from tombstone instructions while Lucia Darling taught in a one-room cabin that was the first school in Montana Territory. Their experiences were enough to pass on wisdom; and their knowledge still educates generations today.”
Linda Womack – True West Magazine January/February 2009

On this last day of the year I want to reflect on the life of my brother, Rick. In a few short months he will have been in prison five years. He was once a vital, happy man, refereeing ball games for his son, escorting his oldest daughter down a football field when she was part of her high school homecoming court, romping around with his youngest child and laughing at her antics. He loved to buy presents for his children. I was with him when he purchased a new bicycle for his son. He was excited about the gift and meticulously searched for just the right bike. Tall, handsome and thin, my brother is now a near lifeless shell, bloated from the medication he is on due to injuries he sustained from inmates at the Beaumont prison in Texas who beat and raped him. I’ll never see the brother I knew again. In my estimation the mother and daughter who did this to him are murderers. My grandmother lives at the rest home where one of the killers works. According to my grandmother the killer recently told her that “she never meant things to get this far.” If she wanted out of the marriage and wanted money, I would have given it to her. More than $345,000 was spent on my brother’s defense. I would have given her the money and anything else she wanted. They lied and the brother I knew is gone. I will not forget him, nor what was done to him. I will try to move into 2009 with hope. Hope that I can heal. That we all can heal.

The trip to Missouri for the holidays was long and I had plenty of time between flights to work on the next idea for a book proposal. A month ago, Howard Kazanjian, the film producer I’ve had the pleasure of collaborating with on several occasions, suggested looking into the life of a lawman named Sam Sixkiller. Sixkiller was a Deputy Marshall in Oklahoma who became the first captain of the United States Indian Police headquarters in Muskogee. As Captain, Sixkiller had 40 men under his command. He was an exceptional officer who was eventually shot down in the line of duty. He led an interesting life and I’m anxious to write about him. I can either get a lot of writing about Sam done at my office or at an American Airlines terminal should I ever have to fly with them again. And I probably will. I’ve had to fly with them a lot this past year. American boasts painfully long layovers and numerous crying children once the flight boards. When did it become a federal regulation that you have to have at least seven crying babies on every flight? I just want to know: Where are they going? Why are they on planes? They have no appointments, they were just born days ago. Are times so hectic that babies are born and instantly tell those around them, “I just popped out of the womb, I gotta dry up, learn to breathe-I’ll be on the two o’clock, it’s the best I can do?.” If I had a good time at Christmas I can’t remember because the flight itself drained all my good will and pleasant memories. I took a lot of pictures so something good must have been happening. It’s great to be home and making plans for the new year. I’ve got three new books that will be released over the next 12 months. How I pray 2009 is better than 2008, or 2007, or 2006, or?. I’ll keep the website updated on that subject or, you can drop by the American Airlines terminal at the Dallas/Forth Worth airport to find out how it’s going. I seem to spend a lot of time there.

Over the past couple of days I’ve received information about my 30th high school reunion that’s going to be held in September. The people planning the reunion are doing a great job. There’s a website specifically for Buena High School class of 1979 alumni. In addition to whether or not you’re going to attend the festivities, you’re asked to give a little information about yourself. The very first thing they want to know is how many children you have and their ages. Now I know the majority of people have children, but for those of us who don’t, or in my case couldn’t, you’re left to feel as though procreating is the highest goal one could achieve. When I went to my 20 year reunion the class president brought his baby into the hall where the event was being held and announced to everyone that “this is what it’s all about” and that “nothing else mattered.” He was a proud dad. I bet there’ve been days since then that he hasn’t felt so proud. I’ve watched people struggle to raise kids. They’re not easy. But there has to be some penalty for sex. For many, parenting is the easiest job to get – you just have to screw up once and it’s yours. I have a 17 year-old niece who found out how easy it was to get the job. Nothing else matters much to her either. I take exception to those who think childbirth is a miracle. I don’t think it is. It’s a chemical reaction, that’s all. Raising a kid that doesn’t talk in a movie theatre – now there’s a miracle. It’s not a miracle if every nine months any ying-yang in the world can drop a litter of mewling cabbages on the planet. And just in case you haven’t seen the single-mom statistics lately, the miracle is spreading like wildfire. All that being said, I’m really looking forward to my high school reunion. Even if I have nothing to show for my life but a degree and a couple of dozen books.

The first series of ads to promote Thunder Over the Prairie were booked today. I placed an ad in the June/July edition of American Cowboy Magazine. The price – $1800 for a half page. I want to run a full page ad in True West Magazine and one in Chronicles of the Old West. The plan is that this investment will pay off big when the book is released. It’s by far the most enjoyable piece I’ve written and I know that I’d like to write more material like it. If Thunder doesn’t sell well I might not get the chance. I think I’d like to write for Bethany House too. I finished the sample chapter I’ve been writing for them and will send it out Thursday. It always comes down to sales though – making money. Which makes a difference for all businesses, but art suffers in the process. The only thing money gives you is the freedom of not worrying about money. It looks like the comedy series Clint Black and Lisa Hartman Black’s pitched to Lifetime is going to happen. Hope that means the Roy Rogers/Dale Evans project starring the couple will get a green light. It would be nice to go into 2009 with something bright on the horizon and of course, the possibility of actually getting paid. Howard and I’ve have been working on the Roy and Dale story for more than five years. I will continue to update the site with news about the progress of the books and screenplay. In the meantime, anyone who signs up to receive my newsletter will get a copy of Frontier Teachers. The book would make a nice gift for a school or public library. Drop me a line and I’ll send it on.