May 5th, 2010

It would appear as though the funds for the motion picture project Thunder Over the Prairie will not be coming in from the source my co-author has been working on for close to a year. Howard labored long and hard to hammer out a deal, but the company has continuously delayed writing a check to start work on the screenplay. I suppose that’s the way of the industry as a whole. Now we have to consider pursuing this project with another company. That means starting over. The problem is I don’t think I have it in me anymore. I’m going to be 49 next week. Hollywood considers that too old. They could be right. You have to want to pursue raising funds for the film projects you write more than you want anything else. I don’t. I used to, when I was younger, but I don’t anymore. Truth is, I’m not sure I want anything. I’m amazed at how much of my heart was cut out seeing my brother for the first time shackled and handcuffed. Still more heart was cut away after he was beaten and raped. Nothing seems to be worth it anymore. I love writing and the Old West and am grateful to be able to write books for a living, but I used to want more. I miss that. I miss the passion for something, anything! I guess that’s why I like the Old West. Even the bad guys had passion. It was misdirected, but it was passion just the same. For example on this day in 1885, outlaw Ned Christie was up to no good and putting everything he had into that venture. During an attempted arrest the bootlegger killed U.S. Marshal Dan Maples near Tahlequah, Oklahoma. Later in the same month Ned shot, at different times, two other deputies who tried to arrest him for killing Maples. Ned built himself a strong fortress and survived many bloody encounters with lawmen over the next eight years. He was finally shot and killed trying to escape his fortress by Deputy Wess Bowman. Sam Maples, whose father had been killed by Christie in Tahlequah in 1885, emptied his revolver into Christie’s lifeless body. Now that’s passion for something.