Showing posts with label Elmer Kelton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Elmer Kelton. Show all posts

Sunday, December 27, 2015

REJECTION LETTER NUMBER ONE


My friend Sunny often pops in unexpectedly. She knows where I hide the key and she’s an I-know-you’re-in-the-bathroom-but-I’m-coming-in kind of friend.
    “Why are you taking a bubble bath at one in the afternoon…in your Tony Llamas?” she says. “And you wanna explain the bottle of tequila on the kitchen island? Wait…are you bawling?”
    I try to answer but end up blubbering unintelligibly. I’m pretty sure I just blew a snot bubble.
    “What’s that you say? You have an objection to ladders? What are you talking about?”
    More blubbering. A little more intelligibly.
    “Rejection letter? Oh…you got a rejection letter! You mean, for that story you just sent to those people for the book thing?”
    I try not to wail. But I can’t help it.
    “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” says Sunny. “Well, little Vonnie gets her first rejection letter! Come on, sister. You’ve been writing for a couple of years now and this is the first time you’ve been turned down, right?”
    “Yes.” I hold out my empty coffee mug.
    “Ah, I don’t think you need any more of that.” Sunny crosses her arms. “Seriously…you’re beating yourself up over one rejection? Someone needs to count her blessings. You’ve had a really good run so far. Lots of writers were turned down dozens…shoot, hundreds of times before they got published. So they hated the story?”
   

“They didn’t say they hated it. They said ‘we liked your story but…’ I can’t remember the whole thing. Maybe that it needed a stronger ending.”
    “And did it?”
    “I don’t know, Sunny. Maybe. Maybe it needed a stronger ending! I said it. Are you happy? I’m incompetent. I shouldn’t be writing.”
    “Hey, hey. Lighten up. Writing is one of those subjective things. Maybe the next guy will like the story. Or maybe you can tighten up the ending. You know, revise and resubmit.”
    It occurs to me that Sunny’s mother must have consulted a psychic when picking out a name for her future sunbeam of a daughter. It also occurs to me that optimists can be very annoying.
    “Why did I have to pick such a subjective career?” I moan. “Why not a ‘do this and that happens’ kind of career? Like those chickens in the cages at the smart animal place. I just want to go and peck on a piano key and get my piece of corn, you know? None of this we-liked-your-style-but-no-corn-for-you business.”
    Sunny rolls her eyes. “A chicken in a cage? Sounds kind of like a cubicle. You remember the cubicle, don’t you?”
    I do remember the cubicle. And the stacks of papers with the endless columns of numbers. And the ticking clock. And the bad coffee. In desperation, I made an ornate sign for my tiny space, proclaiming it La Petite Boîte à Chaussures, “the little shoe box.” I initiated an inter-cubicle rubber band fight at 2:00 PM sharp every day. A creative soul crying for escape.
    “Somebody on Craigslist is looking for a seasonal female Santa,” I say, piling bubbles into a peaked hat shape on top of my head.
    “I don’t think you’d better answer that ad.” Sunny places a folded towel on the edge of the tub.
    “Or I could go back to college…”
    Sunny is getting impatient. “I went to college with you, Vonn. Every other paper you turned in came back with the same note, written in red at the top. ‘Have you thought of becoming a writer?’ Even your algebra papers. In fact, especially your algebra papers. Face it. It’s the thing you love. Go do it. Well, not right this second. Allow me time to evacuate. I’ll be in the kitchen, okay? I hope you left a little tequila for your therapist.”
    Ten minutes later–clothed and mostly in my right mind–I join Sunny. Miraculously, the Tony Llamas are dry. Well, except for a few bubbles clinging to the bootstraps. Sunny is waving her smart phone at me. She’s obviously been Googling.
    “Here’s the scoop,” she says. “Louis L’Amour got 200 rejections before anyone would sign him. Stephen King practically wallpapered his office with rejection letters before he sold his first book.  Elmer Kelton got published on his thirtieth try! You’re being a diva, Vonn. Or maybe just a wimp.”
"Publish? That? You're kiddin' me, right?"


    “A wimpy diva. Well, that sets me quite apart from the pack, doesn’t it? Thanks, Sunny. I can always count on you for moral support.”
    “Hmmph.”
    We stay huffy for almost a minute, which is about average for us. Finally, I give her an affectionate kick in the shin.
    “I know what’s wrong with my writing career,” I say at last.
    “What’s that?”
    “It needs a stronger ending.”
    Sunny favors me with a double-dimpled grin. “Well then, you’d better get to work, sister,” she says. We hug goodbye and Sunny helps herself to a Diet Coke on her way out.
    I sink into my favorite chair and open my laptop. Fingers find the home keys. I close my eyes and wait…for the sparks to fire from the mysterious flint and steel of creativity. The refrigerator hums. My faithful pup turns around three times and lies down on my foot, settling in for the vigil.
    Time suspends. With eyes wide open, I become unaware of my physical surroundings. I follow a memory, or maybe a dream or a vision, into another realm.
    The mournful cry of a steam whistle. The squeak of a saddle.The sputtering flames of a campfire on a clear, cold night and the silhouettes of two trail-weary men. One of them is named for a Greek god. The other will not live to see Cheyenne.

      The next thing I know, the sun is slanting between the kitchen curtains and I can hear the alarm clock chirping from the back bedroom. My neck is stiff and I need coffee…but I’m five thousand words in, and I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.




 -V.M.




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Tuesday, September 2, 2014

The Day the Cowboys Quit


I hope you all had a safe and happy Labor Day- and that everyone paused to remember what the holiday is for, the celebration of the American worker. And nobody typifies the American worker more than the working cowboy- the real thing, even if nowadays he is more likely to herd cows with a pickup truck. It occurred to me yesterday that the Elmer Kelton novel I am about to discuss is the ideal Labor Day reading for a western fan- and if you're one of those folks who've never read it, I strongly urge you to do so. And add Kelton's The Time It Never Rained to your queue as well.

The Day the Cowboys Quit is one of those handful of novels that consistently makes it to the top of writers' and critics' all-time best westerns lists, and justifiably so. It has also made the reading lists of many university classes (I'll be taking over the teaching of Western U.S. History at my school after this year, and I plan to assign it.)

The plot revolves around the loosely fictionalized historical event known as the Tascosa Cowboy Strike of 1883. As he often does, Kelton plops us down in the middle of great social change; the rough-and-ready cattlemen of the early days are being fenced in by syndicates from Back East and the growing cities of the Midwest, men who understand business and capitalism and ledgers but know nothing about the cattle business and the men who made it run on the ground- men who had built a sense of community in which, once you were stove up, your old partners would do all they could to still keep you around.

The new managers introduce a litany of restrictive laws: cowboys were not allowed to use company horses for personal use, or build their own herds, or allow those who were not completely physically able anymore to hang around camp, not to mention cutting wages. Here is part of a conversation between corporate rancher Prosper Selkirk and the protagonist, the cowboy Hugh "Hitch" Hitchcock:

[Selkirk]"If I invest my entire fortune in a bad venture and lose it, nobody guarantees to take care of me the rest of my life. When a man gets on one of those bad horses he knows the risks: he implies his willingness to accept that risk when he agrees to the job."

[Hitch] "He accepts the job because he's partial to eatin'.'
"The same reason I take a risk and invest capital."
"There a difference between a man's limbs and his money."



The cowboys decide to go on strike. I found a copy of the real cowboys' demands at this site:

We, the undersigned cowboys of Canadian River, do by these presents agree to bind ourselves into the following obligations, viz:
First: that we will not work for less than $50 per mo. And we furthermore agree no one shall work for less than $50 per mo. after 31st of Mch.
Second: Good cooks shall also receive $50 per month.
Third: Any one running an outfit shall not work for less than $75 per mo.
Any one violating the above obligations shall suffer the consequences. Those not having funds to pay board after March 31 will be provided for for 30 days at Tascosa.

Note that GOOD cooks should get $50 a month.

I'll have to let you read the book yourself to find out how it turns out. many of you no doubt already have- I'd love to hear your comments about it.

I have taken a quote from Elmer Kelton as one of the guiding principles of my writing, and this book in particular exemplifies it: "I don't write about good guys in white hats fighting bad guys in black hats. I write about two guys in gray hats, one trying to bring about change and the other resisting it."

    --Troy D. Smith




Saturday, September 10, 2011

Western Writer Troy D. Smith


1.   What was your first Western novel or story and was it published?

My first two Western novels, Riding to Sundown and Brothers in Arms, were written in 1990... purely for my own entertainment. In those days I buffed and waxed floors for a living, and would be locked in Wal-marts and K-marts alone for up to twelve hours a night. I wasn’t paid by the hour, and it only took about half the time to do the work, so I wound up writing to occupy myself. It never even occurred to me at the time I could be published. A few years later I got serious about writing, and decided to do a few short stories to see if I could get them published and at least have something on my query letter when I tried to sell my novels. My first short story was accepted at Louis L’Amour Magazine; they took several others too, and I thought I’d found my gravy train, but then the magazine folded right after my first story appeared. I kept selling stories, though. In the past year a lot of my older stuff has been reprinted by Western Trail Blazer, and those first two short novels I wrote while my wax was drying twenty years ago finally got into print for the first time.

    2.   What Western writer or writers of the past were the biggest influence on your work?

Louis L’Amour was a big influence; I’d been reading his novels while locked up in those stores before I ran out of books and started writing my own. I also loved Elmer Kelton, and often paraphrase his great quote: he didn’t write about a bad guy in a black hat versus a good guy in a white hat, he wrote about two guys in gray hats, one trying to institute change and one resisting it. I like that. I was also influenced by Larry McMurtry; I like the way he plays with history, and how he uses humor to endear characters to you before he suddenly visits horrific death and destruction on them, making you care deeply about their fates. Beyond that, I could name a whole slew of writers active in WF right now as big influences, and dozens of classic writers –from Mark Twain, Stephen Crane, and Steinbeck to Stephen King, Robert E. Howard and Stan Lee.

     3.   What's the first Western you remember reading from cover to cover?

Bowie’s Mine, by Elmer Kelton. I read it in 1976, when I was eight… it was the first “grown-up book” I ever read. I read it over and over, in fact, and can still remember the opening scene in great detail.

     4.   Who is your favorite historical Western figure, and why?

This one is a tie. Crazy Horse is inspirational; he fought for his people and culture, and in innovative ways, even when many of them abandoned him. I am also quite fond of Bill Tilghman; he saw it all. Serving as a lawman in Dodge City with Earp and Masterson, federal deputy marshal in Oklahoma Territory, and still taming oil boomtowns when he was an old man in the 1920s. He had a sort of quiet efficiency that got the job done while more boisterous attention-seekers got all the fame and glory.

     5.   How much historical research do you do, and how do you go about it?

It helps that historical research is my day job. I spent several years familiarizing myself with 19th century Indian Territory / Oklahoma for my dissertation, and I plan to use that in future fiction works. Generally speaking, though, it depends on the project. If I am writing about a historical figure like Champ Ferguson, I want to get all the details down right. For Bound for the Promise-Land I spent six months doing nothing but research, filling up several notebooks and poring through slave narratives before I wrote my first sentence of narrative. I spend a lot less time on a typical adventure story, but I still read a lot to make sure I know the difference between point and drag, gee and haw.

       6.  Who is your favorite fictional character that you have created?

This one is a tie, too. Both my favorite creations were supporting characters in Civil War epics, and each served as a conscience for the hero. As such, they were intrinsically good people, and therefore (to me, at least) very lovable. The first is Lonnie Blake, ex-slave-turned-soldier-turned-preacher in Bound for the Promise-Land. I wanted my hero, Alfred, to be a sort of everyman, and torn by conflicting emotions about life and about racial issues. His two best friends, Lonnie and Chamas, played the roles of Martin Luther King and Malcolm X, each trying to sway him to their perspective. Lonnie was the MLK figure, and –while a flawed human being –approached life with love, compassion, and faith. My other favorite was not quite so saintly –Rains Philpot was the sidekick of Champ Ferguson, the notorious Confederate guerrilla that I wrote about in Good Rebel Soil. I wanted to structure Champ’s story like a Greek tragedy: a brave, and likable, hero who has a fatal flaw (in Champ’s case, his angry passions) which draws him inexorably to a doom that he knows he can’t escape no matter how hard he tries. Rains is kind of simple-minded, intensely loyal to his friend, and –despite the band’s violent activities –kind of an innocent. It’s his voice that tries to pull Champ back from the abyss when he goes too far. I had a soft spot for him –although his positive qualities were entirely of my own invention, for the sake of a good story. I’m pretty sure the real Rains Philpot was just as ruthless as Champ.

       7.   Who is your favorite fictional character that someone else created?

Oh, hands down, Augustus McRae from Lonesome Dove. They just don’t come any better than Gus. Although I also have a soft spot for Hewey Calloway, Elmer Kelton’s great cowboy character.

       8.    Do you make a living writing? If not, what is your day job?

I am a history professor, currently teaching at Tennessee Tech. My dissertation, which I hope to publish soon in book form, is about the Five Tribes of the Southeast (and later Oklahoma –Cherokees, Choctaws, Chickasaws, Creeks and Seminoles) and the process by which, in the first half of the 19th century, they adopted plantation slavery and developed racial concepts unknown to previous generations in their leaders’ quest to become “modern,” eventually allying (for complicated reasons) with the Confederacy during the Civil War. I explore what that whole process says about the connections between racial identity and national identity, and how each is formed. This pulls together my three fields of research: American Indians, slavery, and Southern history (Western history, too.)

       9.    What do you plan to write in the future?

My next big fiction project will be a crime novel. I plan to write several short stories before that, though, to be included in various series of ebook shorts. I’ll do a couple more tales for the Blackwell Western series being published by WTB, as well as a couple of mystery series which should be available in the next few months. One stars a 5th century Irish chieftain, Conor Mac Cormac, who has a tendency to get involved in political intrigues in the days of the late Roman Empire –where the murders are never as simple as they seem. The other series will be called “Dead Rednecks!” and centers on an ex-con in Knoxville, Hoss Qualls,  whose efforts to keep his nose clean are complicated by his many crazy relatives, especially his semi-delusional brother who has opened a detective agency and constantly needs Hoss’s help. Right now I am working on a story for an upcoming Lone Ranger anthology.

       10.   What made you decide to write Western fiction?

       I actually write in various genres: Western, mystery, sci-fi/fantasy, and horror. What success I have had, though, has mostly come from Westerns, and I don’t think that is an accident. I like to write about characters who face their most primal emotions. A story set on the frontier is very conducive to that; the veneer is stripped away, and the primordial comes to the surface. You can cut through the crap, in other words, and pretty darn quick.