Journal Notes

One of the things I dread most about writing is when the manuscript comes back from the editor with questions, comments, and suggestions for changes that need to be made. The comments can be quite biting at times, even somewhat mean-spirited. I find myself on the defensive rathering than looking at the suggestions objectively. I just finished making changes to a book I got back from my publisher about outlaws of the Old West and I have to say the experience was quite different this time. The person who reviewed the material was kind and thoughtful. Their attitude made me want to bend to all of their suggestions. Don’t get me wrong. I still bristle at the prospect of doing rewrites, but this time it wasn’t so bad. The book Outlaws of California is due out sometime next fall.

It’s amazing how devastation in one’s personal life shapes what they write and the way they write. Orwell, Hemingway, and Melville…. I would not presume to put my own work in the same category of these literary giants, but I can identify with how suffering and tragedy influences the work. My beloved brother is sitting in a federal prison right now because I asked him to plead guilty for a crime he did not commit. Due largely to a corrupt federal system that misuses the Patriot Act, investigating officers who were and still are, romantically involved with the witnesses in the case, supplying them funds and special services, coupled with how easy it is for a disgruntled teenagers to falsely accuse fine individuals of the most vile acts and make it stick with no evidence, I believe I had to ask my brother to take a plea. It’s my fault he is where he is. I couldn’t risk losing him for life. Every day when I sit down to write I see his aged, sad face. I hear my mother weeping, longing for her son. Every t I cross, every i I dot holds the pain I feel over this unjust event. I ache for justice and cause the characters I write about to ache for the same ideal. I pray daily for all bitterness to be removed from my heart. Man can do nothing, but yield to God in all things. I hold onto and believe completely in the irrefutable truth sent forth from the heavens above, God’s vengeance is assured.

I’m off to Gold Hill, Nevada tomorrow to take part in the Old West lecture series there. I’ll be speaking on the subject of women doctors of the Old West. I met an interesting gentlemen this past week while I was at the Capitol Public Radio studios. He had just completed a trip to Africa where he was part of a program that helped educate people about STDs and the HIV virus. The teenagers there are given false information about the virus and are being told (by their teachers no less) that the HIV virus is found in condoms. I was shocked to learn the odd things some believe. It reminded me of when I was doing the research for the book The Doctor Wore Petticoats. I learned that men and women on the frontier who were suffering with an STD believed the water around Lake Tahoe could heal them. They soaked themselves in the water around Emerald Bay. I can’t help but think about that whenever I drive by that area and see people swimming. Very interesting.

I spent the better part of the day working on the book about the intrepid posse. My focus has been about Marshal Bill Tilghman and his law enforcement techniques. He was interested in learning every aspect of the law and that made him different from Earp, Masterson, and Bassett. Out of the four men he was the only one that made being a police officer a way of life. The other men dabbled in the business, but it was Tilghman’s profession. Bat Masterson said that Tilghman was “the finest of us all.” On more than one occasion, Marshal Tilghman was wrongly accused of a crime. I guess that kind of thing has been going on longer than I even imagined. In Tilghman’s case however, the people who really did commit the crime were made to pay and he was vendicated.

And so ends another work week. I’ve got a good start on chapter four of the posse book and will be traveling to Sacramento this coming week to do further research on the book about school marms of the Old West. I’m glad to see that westerns are still alive at the theatres. I think there will always be an audience for them. People like it when the guys in the white hats outgun the guys in the black hats. There’s something very satisfying about that kind of justice. It’s been my own personal experience that the bad guys (or girls as in this paticular case) never get what’s coming to them. In a truly good western evil never triumphs. If only art imitated life.

One of the reasons why I agree to run ads in major publications like True West Magazine and American Cowboy is not just because of the quality of the periodical, but because of the quality of the advertisement. Jeff Galpin at House of Print and Copy in Grass Valley is the graphic designer who creates the ads and I couldn’t be more pleased. He does such a fine job that anyone would be proud to show off his work. He and his wife are so talented they are doing the art for the children’s book I’m writing. The book is entitled The Christmas Adventures of Cowboy Ned and it should be released by Christmas 2008.

I continue to work on the book about schoolmarms of the Old West. I’ve been writing on a chapter about a 66 year-old woman who traveled to Oregon from Independence in 1846. She weighed 108 pounds and walked with a cane. After she arrived in the Oregon territory she went to work teaching school and caring for orphans. The strength of character in the women from back then is amazing. I have four wonderful neices and hope they grow up to have the same courage as the ladies I’ve had the honor to write about. My neices are Taylor and Jordan Parry and Melissa and Amanda Enss. What a delight they’ve been.

I’m going to be working on an article for True West Magazine on what’s it’s like to live in Grass Valley, California. There is a great deal of history in the Gold Rush town and I’m proud to get a chance to write about it. Sixteen years ago when I moved here I didn’t think I was going to like it. It was cold and snowing and I had spent so much of my time in Arizona…I had my doubts. But it turns out that this place is home to me now and I can’t imagine living anywhere else. Maybe Kansas, or Tombstone, or Deming, New Mexico…

One of my next projects is going to be a story of frontier justice. I’m am fixated on bad people getting their come-upings. I haven’t personally experienced that. I don’t know that a lot of people have. Most of the bad people I’ve been personally acquainted with have never gotten what’s coming to them. Maybe that’s why stories like The Unforgiven, The Quick and the Dead, or Once Upon a Time in the West are so popular. I haven’t really been passionate about writing much else. Perhaps writing a story like that would do me a world of good.

I was only in Dodge City for a short time, but I miss it. The people, the history. It was a delightful place and I look forward to going back when the book is released. I heard from the producers of the film project I’m working on. The screenwriter finished the rewrite and they are heading out to the studios soon. Wish I could have been the one to rewrite the piece, but they needed a name writer and that ain’t me.