Writers and Their Four-legged Sidekicks

A while back I asked my fellow WF members to tell me about their pets. I love animals and know many of you do, too.

Dale Jackson says:

"A good cowhorse is an indispensible tool and an absolute necessity for all phases of cow work. A good dog like the Border Collie is like having an extra cowboy with you and, as you can see, they are great dogs to be around. The German Shepherd is the homeguard and takes care of business keeping things secure at the ranch.

In terms of writing, I find that having an insight into animals is a valuable way to better understand human behavior as it translates into the characters in our books. These guys are more like partners than pets, and they have a way of becoming a part of everything we do.

My first two novels borrowed heavily on the relationship between men and horses and, in the second book, UNBROKE HORSES, the horse became a metaphor for the struggles of the young protagonist whose survival depended on his ability to recognize his own challenges in the actions of a small band of unbroke horses.

It’s impossible to minimize the importance of a good dog and a good horse."

Dale's novel UNBROKE HORSES won the 2013 Peacemaker Award for Best Western Novel.

This comes from Cheryl Pierson:

"Livia, I'm including a picture of our dog, Embry, with my daughter Jessica. This was taken a couple of years ago after Embry recovered from his stay at the Oklahoma State University veterinarians' teaching hospital. He had steroid responsive meningitis that almost killed him. Thank goodness this story had a very happy ending.

Embry is my "granddog" who lives with us now since Jessica has moved to a smaller place. He weighs in at 200 pounds and he's half Great Pyrenees and half Anatolian Shepherd. He's a herder by breed and the four people in our family are his "herd"--all others are intruders and will be bitten if they get too close. LOL

Embry still thinks of himself as a puppy and will sometimes try to sit in our laps. When I'm working, he comes in and will lie on the floor beside my chair. I have to turn my chair almost sideways so that he can raise his head from time to time and give me a hug. I've also learned to type pretty well with one hand for long spaces of time while I pet with the other. He does help me think better, and I've noticed that I add dogs to my stories more often since we've had him."

Cheryl's most recent publications are the short story "The Kindness of Strangers", which is available as an e-book, and the story "Outlaw's Kiss" in the anthology WISHING FOR A COWBOY. Her daughter Jessica is a talented artist who recently illustrated the children's book SARAH'S MUSIC.

Keith Souter tells us:

"I don't actually own a pet at the moment. I used to have a cat called Lily, who was my constant writing companion. If I was outside writing in the sun, then she would be basking in it close by. If I was at my writing desk, she would probably be curled up on a cushion in the bay window to the side of the desk. Sadly, she died a couple of years ago, but she is buried outside my study window, just six feet from where she used to sleep and keep me company. I was pretty upset when she died, so I wrote her into a crime novel, called FLOTSAM AND JETSAM. This is one of my Inspector McKinnon novels set on the Outer Hebridean island of West Uist. To make the story work, she ended up being transformed into a dog, but in my mind it is still Lily.

 

Now, I don't own a pet, but I regularly get to dog-sit my daughter's dog, Walt. He's a schoondle, a cross between a schnauzer and a poodle. We go jogging every morning when he stays with me. Well, really he walks and I run alongside him.  He is mischievous and he makes me laugh. When I have a plot problem to sort out we go for a walk and a play and generally the plot difficulty sorts itself out. I genuinely think that he helps me unravel things. He too is being worked into a story, this time a YA novel. This is in my Victorian adventure series about an orphan called Jack Moon. The second in the series is provisionally entitled THE GHOSTCATCHERS. Walt is a stray dog who happens to be psychic, so he allows Jack to communicate with his best friend, who died."

Keith is a regular contributor to WF's bestselling series WOLF CREEK and is also writing a series about the adventures of a dentist in the Old West, THE CASEBOOK OF DOCTOR MARCUS QUIGLEY.

Jim Griffin joins in with his answer:

"I have always had pets, ranging from goldfish to canaries and parakeets, to cats and dogs, to horses. Can’t imagine life without a pet or two.

Yes, I do draw inspiration from my pets. The horses in my Western stories are all based on horses I have owned. They reflect my own horses’ appearances, personalities, and peculiarities. In fact, if I hadn’t owned a horse, I never would have started writing. It was James Reasoner who encouraged me to write after he contacted me for answers to some questions which he had about horses. If that had never happened, I never would have attempted to write a Western novel.

Since I’ve been writing, my Shih Tzus, first Chauncey and now Dogie, have always stayed by my desk while I’m working on a book. Whenever it’s time to step back and take a break, I can always count on my dog being there to help me relax with a play session. That helps clear my mind and get back to the task at hand.

Finally, while they are hardly pets, there are two packs of coyotes which live in the town open space behind my place. Their nightly howling certainly sets the mood for writing Westerns."

Jim writes the original e-book series A RANGER NAMED ROWDY, is an important contributor to the WOLF CREEK series, and wrote the West of the Big River novel THE RANGER.

Charlie Whipple says:

"I brought home our first dog, Taro, for my oldest daughter's sixth birthday. My wife was not pleased at all, but we've never been without a dog since. The current resident is Tomlin, a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel who will turn 11 on February 21, 2014, the same birthdate (different year) as daughter No.2. 

You see, when wife Yukiko went to the shopping mall, she always wandered by the pet shop. Tomlin was a leftover. Time after time. Then she heard that leftovers were sometime euthanized. That did it. Next time she came home from the mall, she had Tomlin. He's gray haired and getting old, but we hope he'll stay around for a while longer.

While Tomlin is in the other room sleeping on our bed, I write. This year, besides the Wolf Creek series, I've had a novel entitled Monty McCord published from Black Horse Westerns, one called Diablo accepted, one called Road to Rimrock bought by Thorpe for large print. My Stryker's series of ebooks is under way. Stryker's Law, Stryker's Ambush, and soon, Stryker's Bounty. 

Also in ebooks, under Charles T. Whipple, you can find Nami of the Waves, a fantasy tale, fifth in a series, of 10th century Japan when all the mythical creatures were alive and well." 

Finally, Meg Mims tells us:

"I have two dogs, but I took in Benji in 2012 and wrote a novella about a rescue

dog in Santa Paws (totally new story, but the cover resembles him!)

This year I'm writing about a black cat rescue for Santa Claws - we had to put

our black cat down this summer. So she will be 'immortalized' in that 

novella, sort of."

James and I have four dogs of our own, including the two little ones who are usually in my lap while I'm working, forcing me to twist sideways to reach my computer. They may not be very good for my back, but they certainly work wonders for my heart.

 

The dean of western short story writers

Cheryl told me to blog about a short story. To me, when someone says “Western short story,” one man’s name comes to mind.

* * *

He came to ride for her pa’s ranch, a tall slim man, quiet yet strong, and he always meant what he said. That was new to Ellis, and it wasn’t long before she fell in love with the cowboy and wanted to marry him.

She knew her father, maybe better than he knew himself. The cowboy wanted to ask for her hand, but she said her father would never allow them to marry. But they did. And they settled down on a little spread he’d bought with money he’d saved up from when he rode as a scout for the Army. Just an adobe hut with a simple ramada. Just thirty yearlings to start with. Just somewhere hard work and patience could build a place for a family to live in peace. Just a place.

Then the old man rode in with a rifle across the saddlebows and five men at his back. He’d not married until forty and the girl was his only child. Not a girl to marry a ne’er-do-well cowboy who was more like a redskin than a white man. Not that. She’d marry a man capable of building further on what her father had already built. She would. She surely would.

“Where is he?”

“He’s at the stock tank,” she said, “but he’ll come in now.”

“Whether he does or not,” the old man said, “you’re coming home with me.”

“I’m married now, Pa.”

“Don’t talk foolish.”

“Married in Willson. By a priest.”

“We’ll talk about that at home.”

“I am home!”

“Girl, this isn’t going to be a public debate.”

“Then why did you bring an audience?”

The man’s name that came to mind when Cheryl said “Short story?”

   

Elmore Leonard, of course. You know him for 3:10 to Yuma. Valdez is Coming was also a short story to begin with. Originally, this story was entitled The Waiting Man, but in the collection of Elmore Leonard’s short stories, the title is Moment of Vengeance.

How many stories have you read where the protagonist goes in with both fists slamming into those who oppose him, or where he jerks out a Colt SSA .45 and blasts baddies to oblivion, or where he leads them out into the desert where they die a terrible death of thirst? So many. So many.

But this one is different. As the title says, there’s a moment of revenge. It comes because the man Ellis chose to be her mate was patient. He held no disrespect for her father. He was rough with a couple of riders while he was being patient, but never on camera.

Then the old man came after him with shotgun across his lap. They talked. Then talked some more. Her man was patient.

“I’m anxious to see my wife,” the man said.

The old man’s face came up, out of the shadow, deep-lined and solemn, but the hard tightness was gone from his jaw. He shifted his weight and came down off the saddle, and on the ground, he handed the shotgun to her husband. “This damn thing’s getting too heavy to hold,” he said.

You’ll have to go find the story if you want to know what finally happened. But it wouldn’t matter what Elmore Leonard short story you picked up to read. He's the dean, and it’d be a good one.

Wicked Wednesday (Antagonists who have ethics)

Okay. What’s a half-breed like me to do?

Many of my novels either star a half-breed or have half-breed supporting actors. They run into trouble they’re not looking for at every turn.

Someone commented in their review of Pitchfork Justice that I used first-person and third-person narrators in the book. That’s something I picked up from Louis L’Amour. I figured if the master could do it, the disciple was allowed to. Let me show you how Falan Wilder gets in trouble.

“Your kind don’t belong with regular folks. Git.”

“Reckon my cash is the same color as yours,” I said with my best poker face. “I’ve got another dollar. Buy you a drink. This Old Potrero ain’t bad booze.” I waved at the bar. “How ‘bout it?” I didn’t really want to tangle with the big man, but I wouldn’t back down either, not on account of my skin color, anyway.

He spit on the floor and moved closer. “Git. Or they’ll carry you out.”

I turned my back to him. Slowly. Deliberately. “Pour that whiskey, bar man,” I said. “Now.” I pushed the silver dollar at him.

He stood stock still, eyes darting from me to the big man behind me.

A click came as the big man thumbed back the hammer of his .45. I whirled to my right, snaking out my Bowie and slashing through his bicep with its 14-inch blade as I turned. My left fist smashed into his square jaw as my momentum carried me past. The .45 clattered to the floor.

The big guy fell to his knees, clutching his half-severed arm with his big left hand. “You miserable sumbitch.” He mumbled the words. “Sumbitch. You. Cut. Me!” Blood pumped down his arm to drip off his splayed fingers. 

“Feel lucky I didn’t cut your miserable throat,” I said. “Get that bound up,” I said to the ‘keep, “or he’ll bleed out.” I picked up the bar towel and wiped the Bowie’s blade clean. “Keep the extra dollar. I was just leaving.” The Winchester came natural to my hand, and I jacked a cartridge into its chamber.

It seemed an awful long way to the door, but I forced myself to walk normal, not too fast, not too slow, the rifle under my arm.

As I neared the door, the barkeep called out. “Reed Fowley’s got family,” he said. “They’ll be wanting to know who done this to their brother and son. What should they call you?”

I stopped with a hand on the door. “Same as everyone else,” I said. “They can call me Breed.”

So Wilder is in trouble. He’s seriously cut a Fowley Family member, and chances are, he figures, they’ll come riding after him. He heads for the desert. He even tries to talk sense to the Fowleys.

“Fowley!” I hollered. I was out of sight and the rocks would scatter my voice, making it hard for the Fowleys to pinpoint my position.

The horses stopped, but the riders said nothing.

“Fowley!”

“I’ll be Sean Fowley,” a solid voice with an Irish brogue said. “Ya cut me son. Ya’ll pay.”

“Your son held a Colt’s revolver at my back, Fowley. Was I Johnny Ringo, he’d be dead.”

“Ya ain’t nothing but a breed. Breed’s got no right to cut me boy.”

“Sean Fowley. Hear me. I could have cut Reed Fowley’s throat as easily as I cut his arm, but I don’t hold to killing people. I’ll go a long way to keep from having to kill a man, but I’ve got my limits.”

A whoop of laughter came from where the horses were stopped. “Hey Breed. My name’s Bud Fowley, and me and my brother Thad, well, we’re just plain gonna slit your throat . . . or maybe hang you, breed bastard, that’s all there is to it.”

“Fowleys! All of you. Hear me, and hear me good. I was just passing through your town, not even gonna spend the night, but your brainless brother took it into his head to run me out. I don’t run worth a damn.”

The third man spoke. “Breeds gotta stay with they own kind. You drunk at the cantina in Mex town, you’d live. Now you’ll die.” The words were brave, but the voice was a bit shaky.

“John Walker,” I called.

I heard a grunt.

“You know of me, Walker. The desert is my friend. Take those who pay you back to Ehrenburg. I will not kill them, but if they follow me, soon they will wish to die.”

“Shut up, Breed,” the old man said. “John Walker’s the best. Ye have no kind of edge. Ye’ll hang. I swear it.”

I slipped from the rock formation on soundless feet. They’d wait for me to answer, and that would give me enough time to get Zeeb away and into the maze of arroyos that slice up the desert of the Mojave.

Notice, now, that Sean Fowley said no one could cut his son without paying. So the whole Fowley family is out for Wilder’s blood. Fowley’s an Irish immigrant. He’s been in much the same position as Wilder, just because he’s Irish. He grew up in the Five Points area of New York City, having come to the U.S. in the wake of the Irish Potato Famine. There, he learned that others could not be allowed to hurt one of his own.

Fowley reacted by pulling Meaghan close behind him and reaching for the shillelagh he habitually carried stuffed under his belt at the small of his back. “Who’ll be asking?” he said.

Four burly men stepped into the street ahead of Fowley and Meaghan. “This is Daybreak Boys territory now, Mick, and we’ll be teaching you to stay in your own place.”

Fowley made no answer. He merely watched the four spread out and stalk toward him. He shifted his grip on the shillelagh and pushed Meaghan into a corner formed by one building protruding farther toward the street than its neighbor. “Stay here,” he said.

The shillelagh in Fowley’s hand became a living thing. It darted out and connected with the point of the nearest Daybreak Boy’s jaw. The crack of splintering bone sounded loud in the instance of silence following the blow. Then the man screamed and fell to his knees, clutching his broken face.

“Now ye’ll pay, bastard Mick,” yelled another Boy, charging Fowley with a six-inch knife held low.

Fowley grinned like a death mask. His oaken shillelagh swept through the air with an audible swish to smash into the forearm of the Boy’s knife arm. The weapon went spinning and Fowley backhanded his truncheon to the side to the Boy’s head. He crumpled like a bundle of rags topped by his silk top hat.

Now the odds were only two to one, and Fowley’s face wore a steel-hard mask of hate.

“Ye’ll not touch one of mine, bugger boys,” he growled. “Come on. Taste me shillelagh of good oak. Try to chastise this Mick.” He stared at each Daybreak Boy’s face. These men he would not forget.

They hesitated.

“Fight, or be gone,” Fowley roared.

They ran.

At the camp near Tinajas Altos, Fowley tasted the victory of that long-ago fight. He remembered rallying a gang of Roach Guards and hunting the offending Daybreak Boys down and destroying them. When someone pushed your boundaries, they must be destroyed. Fowley considered his two sons and laid plans to destroy the man called Breed.

So, we see, Sean Fowley is not a “bad” man, although he is a very hard one. While others went to work on railroad gangs and in the mines, Fowley used the skills he learned at the Shamrock pub in New York to offer feed and drink to those who did the physical work. And he taught his sons his ethic. No one touches one of ours without paying for it. At the beginning, he sees only a half-breed insolent who cut his son. That made the Breed someone who must be crushed. Before the end of the book, he learns that there is much that does not meet the eye when you look only at a man’s skin color. Something he perhaps should have been aware of from his own experience.

As always, I’ll pick a winner from among the commenters to this blog post to receive a PDF version of A Man Called Breed.

Western Writer Chuck Tyrell (Charles T. Whipple)

What was your first Western novel or story and was it published? My first Western novel was Vulture Gold. I wrote it in 1979 and entered it in a Louis L’Amour write-alike contest. Didn’t win. Decided I wasn’t cut out to write fiction and continued as a journalist, magazine feature writer, copywriter, and corporate literature writer. I don’t remember why I dusted the manuscript off and input it (it was written on an IBM Selectric). But I sold it to Black Horse Westerns in 2004. It was published in 2005, and republished in 2011. It is now available in several eBook formats and in print. Originally, the book was about 70,000 words long. Now it is 45,000 or so.

What Western writer or writers of the past were the biggest influence on your work? A bunch. People have things to say about Louis L’Amour, but I read every book he wrote. I donated my collection of LL books to a university of foreign languages in Kanazawa, Japan, some years ago.

Gordon Sherriffs is a favorite. Clair Huffaker is a favorite. Richard Wheeler and Elmer Kelton are favorites. Will Henry, too. I’m also finding Elmore Leonard’s early stories very interesting and informative.

All that said, if I were to pick a writer to emulate, it would probably be Robert B. Parker. And if a genie came out of a lamp I’d rubbed and offered to let me write exactly like any writer I chose to, I’d choose James Michener and John Gardner and ask the genie to mix them into one for me.

What's the first Western you remember reading from cover to cover? Smokey the Cow Horse by Will James

Who is your favorite historical Western figure, and why? Commodore Perry Owens. He lived the life we all write about. Named for Commodore Perry, hero of the Battle of Lake Erie. Had to leave home in his early teens. Punched cattle for the Rogers (as in Will Rogers) ranch in Oklahoma, drifted into Arizona at the age of 31. Worked as the horse wrangler for Wells Fargo at the Navajo Springs station (I have a piece of wood from the original station, no longer extant, just a swale that was once a watering hole). Ran for sheriff on a law and order ticket and won over the incumbent Juan Lorenso Hubbel, who, it was said, was in cahoots with the outlaws that used the Outlaw Trail through Apache County in Arizona. He enforced the county law with the barrel of his gun, shooting it out with nine members of the Snyder Gang in Round Valley, riding his horse to death to rescue three Mexicans held prisoner in a bar in Winslow, and killing Andy Cooper in the famous shootout in Holbrook, Arizona, in 1886. He was a dead shot, wore his blond hair down past his shoulders as a challenge to the Navajos who were constantly trying to shoot him, and he wore his sixgun on the lefthand side for a cross draw. He married at 50 and moved to Seligman where he opened a saloon. He worked as guard for the Atchison Topeka and Santa Fe Railway. He died of a stroke at 61 and is buried in Flagstaff AZ.

How much historical research do you do, and how do you go about it? Depends on the novel. For the Snake Den, set in Yuma Territorial Prison, I went there and spent two days going through the prison, buying reference books, talking to the Arizona Historical Society people there, etc. Same kind of thing with Vulture Gold, which begins in Vulture City AZ, now a ghost town.

Revenge at Wolf Mountain is set in my own home country, which I know well. Most of the ranches actually exist, but I used a Mexican grant which does not exist in that area, although there are others in both Arizona and New Mexico. The same it true with Trail of a Hard Man. I create fictional towns at times, but often I use real towns as settings or as part of the narrative.

The Killing Trail takes place in a fictional setting, but is linked to Trail of a Hard Man.

Guns of Ponderosa takes place in the White Mountain town of McNary, which once was home to the largest sawmill and planer operation in the Southwest. I renamed the town, and shifted its founding back into history by about 40 years.

Hell Fire in Paradise is a prequel to Guns of Ponderosa.

A Man Called Breed is set in the desert area of southern Arizona, east of Ehrenburg and La Paz. The hero’s horse ranch is located in the Cherry Creek country just below the Mogollon Rim.

Dollar a Day begins in Sunset, which no longer exists, and ends up in Payson, again, just off the Mogollon Rim in the Tonto Basin.

These are all places I know, but I still use an Arizona flora and fauna book to make sure I get my trees and stuff right. Wouldn’t want the hero bit by a Gila Monster up in the Tonto Basin because they don’t get that high off the desert floor. 

I do a lot of looking up on guns. One character in my current WIP carries a Baker 3-barrel 10-guage. The hero in A Man Called Breed carried a Rogers & Spencer pistol, which were considered very accurate. He also carries a one-in-a-thousand Winchester ’73.

I’ve got lots of books on history and fashions and whatnot. I try very hard to put my people in places and circumstances that fit the times I’m writing about.

How important is setting? How important is it to get setting right? What's the best use of setting in a Western as far as you're concerned? I think setting can and probably should be one of the characters. I’ve been reading some early novels and it seems there’s always a rain storm. People seem to forget that places like Show Low, Arizona, get a total of 8 inches of rain a year. Chances of an all day all night rain storm in most of the southwest at least are so close to zero it wouldn’t be worth figuring out the difference. I vote for getting the setting right. Have a look at the towns. There are plenty of photos. See any alleys? Not likely. Know what’s out back? Piles of rubbish. We have the data. No reason to get setting wrong.

James Michener’s Centennial is as good a portrayal of setting as I’ve read, I believe, but there are many good stories. Some of Elmore Leonard’s early (1950s) stories have setting as one of the characters.

How do you choose where to begin your story? Do you use prologues? I have not used a prologue yet. That does not rule out using a prologue at some time.

Most often I see a character and a situation. Most often the first chapter sets up a tough situation. Mostly I know how the story starts and how it’s supposed to end, and I write the story in between. Sometimes the ending changes.

Do you do all your research ahead of time, or as you go along? Both.

Which of your characters do you identify with the most, and why?  Was there a role model for this particular character? I have a bunch of characters I like, which is why they show up as walk-ons in stories that have nothing to do with them. Ness Havelock is one. Real Lee is another. I imagine Falan “Wolf” Wilder will see more action. Lightning By God Brewster will be around, as will his sidekick Sparrow. I’m now writing the second Matthew Stryker novel.

Do you outline and plot your story or do you write as the inspiration or MUSE leads? So far, as I mentioned, I tend to have an opening and a closing in mind when I start. That said, I think I would write better stories if I thought them out somewhat more detailed in advance. I’ve not found myself adept at plotting. I think I need to learn that skill, but I’m not losing sleep over it. At this time in my life, I have no aspirations of writing the great American novel. I just hope to do a few more before I, like Robert Parker, die at my desk, trying to finish my last . . . .

Are you a conservative in your writing and stick with traditional ideas for your characters and plots or do you like to go beyond the norm and toss in the unexpected and why? I suppose I am conservative. I am in most things. I imagine my characters are much more black and white than the shades of gray that were actually the case in the times we write about. You’ve got to remember that writing fiction is a relatively new thing for me. James and Bob and others have hundreds of novels under their belts. I’m trying to hit a dozen. I write some fiction every day, but I write a lot more other stuff – everything from CSR reports to magazine articles. I have a lot to learn about writing and writing fiction. I’m constantly amazed at the young whippersnappers who brazenly purport to be able to teach people to write. How’s that for wandering far from the point? Yes, conservative, but not hidebound.

Do you need quiet when you write, listen to music, or have the TV on and family around? I tend to want the same environment every day. Doesn’t have to be quiet. Doesn’t have to be musical. Just the same. A number of my books were written at Starbucks. That’s probably why I can’t lose weight. The chocolate is totally sinful.

Have you experienced the "dreaded" writer's block and how did you deal with it? Writer’s block comes from two things, in my experience: One, a loss of confidence in your own ability to tell a story, and two, dead-ending in a story, that is, writing yourself into a corner. When your confidence goes out the window, as when you get especially nasty edits from someone, or when they tell you the story did nothing for them, you do something else. I suggest to others that they try Julie Cameron’s morning pages – three pages of handwritten whatever comes to mind first thing in the morning. Hand on paper with pen and ink tends to get your writerly blood flowing and tends to stimulate your frozen brain.

Who is your favorite fictional character that you have created? I suppose Ness Havelock is my favorite, as he’s showed up in a number of books, though only one as the main character. He was my first and so far only first-person narrator. I also like Shawn Brodie, the 14-year-old who was sent to Yuma Territorial Prison. I will pick him up in a new book if I live long enough.

Who is your favorite fictional character that someone else created? The one who sticks in my mind is Tyrel Sackett. No way you can figure out why, eh?

Do you address "modern" issues in Westerns? Racism. Feminism. Downs Syndrome. Mental disabilities. Genetic disorders. Sociopathy. Immigrant questions. Brutality. Pedophilia. Any more? Not sure if it’s an “addressing,” but often my characters have a disability. Garet Havelock, the half-Cherokee marshal of Vulture City, had a bad knee. Wynn Cahill, in Guns of Ponderosa, was a sadist sociopath. Loved to see things in pain. Judge Wilson in Trail of a Hard Man was a pedophile who “took in” orphaned boys. His pedophilia was not so much sexual as sadist. Squirly, in the present work in progress, is not very smart, but he takes care of Wildman Kelly, who is not “normal” by ordinary standards, but not violent either. I once did a story from the frist-person POV of Boo Radley. I imagine there was some PTSD following the Late Unpleasantness that is better known as the Civil War, too, but I haven’t seen a novel addressing it yet. 

What are you writing right now? A story about a man who keeps the promise he made to the town drunk.

Have you found that being able to self publish through Kindle and Nook, that you find yourself writing more of what you want rather than what the agent, editor, and publisher wants? The biggest advantage, as I’m not a terribly prolific author, is getting books that have gone out of print, such as Vulture Gold, back out there so readers can find them. My second novel, Revenge at Wolf Mountain, will also reappear in the not too distant future in its original unabridged form at about 80,000 words instead of the 45,000 version published by Robert Hale Ltd.

Do you make a living writing? If not, what is your day job? Yes. But not writing fiction. I would starve on the proceeds from my fiction at the moment. That said, I get paid well to write advertising, corporate literature, web content, and non-fiction articles, many of them in narrative form. One article brings me nearly five times as much as one Black Horse Western book, and about the same as the advance for a paperback original, if I’m not mistaken. I also write non-fiction books under my own name. Seeing Japan is a perennial seller to visitors to this country.

What do you plan to write in the future? I have two “works in progress” outside westerns. One is a saga set in an alternative version of 10^th century Japan, where all mythical creatures exist. The other is a gumshoe of an investigative journalist hero who searches for a missing woman in a Japan where a large amount of plutonium has been stolen from the Tokaimura nuclear fuel reprocessing plant. Naturally, the kidnapper and the kingpin who wants a nuclear Japan are one and the same. Trouble. Trouble.

What made you decide to write Western fiction? I was born 100 years too late. Since I made the decision to make my living with my pen, so to speak, I also set my sights on writing a Western novel. I also joined the National Association for Outlaw and Lawman History (now defunct) with a lifetime membership. The Louis L’Amour writealike contest came about three years after I started writing newspaper copy and then advertising copy, but got put on hold while I formed my own company, edited two magazines, wrote for Time and Newsweek and the Herald Trib, then became a stringer for two technology industry mags, but I kept the home fires warm, kept sending the re-edited versions out and kept getting them back. Until John Hale at Robert Hale Ltd. said he’d publish the book if I’d cut it down to less than 45,000 words. I’d already written the follow-up novel with the same protagonist. It, too, went under the knife, and was accepted by Hale. Here I am. I love writing about the West, partly as I knew it growing up in a ranch-like environment in northern Arizona, partly because I feel there was something in those people that we need to remember and emulate. 

The Snake Den - Chuck Tyrell (Charles T. Whipple)

THE SNAKE DEN, by Charles T. Whipple writing under his Chuck Tyrell pseudonym, is the first book in Solstice Publishing’s new Western line. It’s a fine debut for the line.

The protagonist of THE SNAKE DEN is fourteen-year-old Shawn Brodie, who is sent to Arizona’s infamous Yuma Prison for stealing beef, even though he’s actually innocent of the crime. Once he’s locked up, Shawn faces all sorts of trouble, mostly from the brutal and perverted head of the guards but also from the sinister, crippled inmate who runs the prison’s criminal underground, a Mexican outlaw determined to escape, and assorted other inmates who become Shawn’s enemies for one reason or another. After one ruckus, Shawn gets tossed in the Snake Den, the solitary confinement cell built into a cave where rattlesnakes can crawl in with the prisoners.

However, not everybody is out to make life miserable for Shawn. His cellmates turn out to be decent sorts: a gambler who teaches Shawn how to play cards, a gunfighter who gives him the fundamentals of handling a revolver, and a man everybody takes for Chinese but who really isn’t, who teaches Shawn the martial arts. Shawn also has allies in the warden’s wife, the prison doctor, and a girl from Yuma who visits the prison when it’s open to the public on Sunday so the prisoners can put on boxing exhibitions and sell things they’ve made.

The prison yarn is a staple of genre fiction, and Whipple has written a very good one in THE SNAKE DEN. Having researched and written a book partially set in Yuma Prison myself, I know he’s done an excellent job of portraying that notorious hellhole. Shawn is a very likable protagonist, and the other characters are fleshed out and well-developed. Given its setting and subject matter, it’s not surprising that THE SNAKE DEN is considerably grittier than the fine Black Horse Westerns Whipple has also written under the Chuck Tyrell name. If this is an example of what we can expect from the Solstice Western line, I’m certainly looking forward to the rest of the books.

-- James Reasoner

(James Reasoner is the author of TEXAS WIND, DUST DEVILS, and REDEMPTION, KANSAS.)

Agave Award

Charles Whipple won the 2010 Oaxaca International Literature Competition Agave Award for Literature for his story "A Matter of Tea."

Held in conjunction with the Oaxaca International Film and Video Festival because the relationship between cinema and literature has always been closely intertwined, this competition is dedicated to providing a forum for writers from all over the world to display their talents.

Whipple's story was selected as the winner from a thousand entries. He will be flown to Oaxaca, Mexico, to receive the award. The top ten stories in the competition will be published in a special commemorative edition. Western Fictioneers congratulates Charles Whipple on this honor!