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It's book signing season again. That's the fun time. Thats when you get to travel
around and meet new folks (and I usually stick my fly rod in the pickup,
too).Writing these books is interesting, of course, but that's also...well, lonely.
You can't really tell anyone what you did that day, because then you'd be "telling
the story," and that can be deadly to a writer. What do I mean?
When I write a book, it's telling a story. In "Sun Dog Days, " for instance, it's a
story I owed an old pard of mine, a guy named Rocky Earick who unfortunately
isn't here any more. So it seems - at least in my case - that you have the choice
of how you'd like to tell the story on a long evening, or you can write a book.
Well, since no one pays me to shoot the breeze by a campfire (drat that luck!) I
have to write it down. If I tell someone first, the story's been told and there's no
reason to write it.
So you mumble something about "it's two friends and a wild horse hunt" which is
about as close as I can get without spoiling it for myself, and you go back and
pound it out until it's done.
Writing is a lonelier job than tending a forest lookout tower. At least you can
have visitors in to see what you're doing up there. I can't when writing a book. I
can't say to someone, "Here, read this chapter and tell me what you think." Not
until the whole book is completed.
This is tough for a guy who revels in sitting around, drinking coffee, and shooting
the bull with close friends and total strangers. I'm NOT an introvert.
So now I get to go out and see new towns and new bookstores (and new fishing
waters) and meet new friends. I bought several vests now. Book-signing vests. I
did that in honor of my old pard, Max Evans. He always wears vests to his
book signings, and I thought that was kind of neat and told him I was going to do
it, too. Always liked vests, ever since I was a toddler and had a leather vest to
go along with my leather chaps. Of course, I didn't have a horse in those days,
as I had to wait until I was 14 before threatening my folks if they didn't let me
keep a horse in the backyard of a Los Angeles suburb.
My threat? I told them that if I couldn't have a horse, there would be no reason
for me to EVER leave home!
I bought a bay Quarter horse gelding for $50, and experienced horsemen
everywhere thought I'd been cheated. But ol' Tornado and I partnered up for
seven years and put a lot of happy miles on each other. He was a "hard
keeper," though. Couldn't seem to put any flesh on his bones, no matter how
hard we threw the groceries at him. My dad always tells his friends, "We had to
feed him around the clock to keep the buzzards from circling the house."
Not true. They only did that during the daylight hours!
I could do anything on that horse except stop him.
Well, friend, I hope you'll look around and see something you like. An entire
bevy of expert has worked hard to make this look good for you. And I'd love to
hear from you with questions, suggestions, or just a friendly hi ho.

Until later,







			October 2007

		Coming Soon!