Action/Adventure
This week: Edited by: W.D.Wilcox More Newsletters By This Editor
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WESTERNS
When was the last time you read a really good western? When was the time you actually tried to write one?
Personally, the best preparation for writing a western is to read a few first. Of course, my all-time favorite author is still, Louis L’Amour. Before tackling a good western, I’d suggest reading a few of his novels.
Phenomenally, it never fails that every time I read a western I come away with some new survival skills: where to set up a good campsite, how to make a smokeless fire, when to trust your horse to warn you if ‘bad guys’ are approaching, and the list goes on and on.
Cowboys spent their lives depending on muscles and reflexes—sharp wits. They made their living with their strength and with their skill at shooting, tracking, and staying alive. A man of the Old West carried his justice around with him. It hung at his hip and in his rifle boot. And it wasn’t just guns that made cowboys what they were. Most of them also carried around an old Tinker.
Now, a Tinker-made knife was a handsome thing with a cutting edge like a razor—often used for shaving—but still a strong blade that could cut through bone as well as flesh and was carried in a sleeve behind the back or strapped to a boot.
Women had their part to play too: farms, towns and cities, law and order were all made because of women…women and gold, the downfall of every good cowboy.
Now, there’s something about gold and the finding of it that changes a man’s viewpoint. When it came to gold, and women, you trusted nobody, not even yourself. The sight of a lot of gold could turn you into a worse man than you figured to be. And a pretty woman could be more trouble than a wild mustang. When it came to women, a man needed every ounce of horse sense he had or he’d be riding into a bellyful of trouble.
And it’s also good to know a little bit about the flora and fauna too.
It was a far-stretching open land. It was country with lava outcroppings here and there, with yellow-brown grass and the green showing through. It was the bright green of mesquite, and the oddly jointed clumps of prickly pear. A man could hear the cicadas singing endlessly in the brush, and from time to time he’d see a rattler curled in the shade of a bush. It was bunch-grass country where buffalo ran, and it was mustang country, wild and free.
Here's a bit of offering from Louis L’Amour to give you a feel for the genre. It goes like this…
‘Steve Hooker, Tex Parker, and Charlie Hurst were sitting their horses just across the ford, blocking the trail. They all had rifles, and they were just sitting there, and Hooker was grinning. The thing was, they expected me to stop.
“You boys want something?” I called out.
“You turn around and git out’n here!” Hurst yelled. By that time I was at the water’s edge.
That water was no more than eight inches deep and there was good hard bottom, so I let the dun have the spurs and went through the water and up the bank and into them before they realized I wasn’t going to stop and parley.
They sure expected me to pull up and talk about it, but when trouble faces me I never was much on the talk. So I rode right into them, and then I dropped the reins and slammed right and then left with the rifle.
Hurst tried to duck, but the rifle barrel caught him behind the ear and knocked him from the saddle. Parker was reaching for me when I swung the rifle across and drove the barrel into the side of his head. It struck with a tunk like the butt of an axe against a log, and he went out. Grabbing the reins as my horse turned, I put the muzzle of the gun on Steve Hooker. His own rifle was coming up and I shot him, holding high a-purpose so he’d take it through the shoulder. He jerked, but stayed in the saddle, losing his grip on his rifle.
He started to swear, and I said, “You still got a left hand. You want to try for none?”
“You played hell!” he shouted at me. “Do you know who those boys are?”
"Sure. They ride with Bill Coe. I know all that outfit, and you can tell Coe he knows where I am if he ever wants to come hunting."
--Mustang Man, by Louis L'Amore
Until next time,
Happy Trails…
billwilcox
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Mount Up, Par'ner
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Westerns are usually about cowboys. The stories in this folder are from an Indians point of view, and who better to write them then, Grandmother.
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Here is one of the best dang western authors at Writing.com. Nobody can weave a tale of the west like ol' Dan.
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Unscrupulous Email
Starr* Rathburn
Submitted Comment:
Hi Bill, Thanks for featuring my Flash Fic, "The Man in the Mirror" in your latest newsletter. I received so many reviews! All of them were complimentary, so I thank you.
In this newsletter, I loved your descrip of "the zone." I know exactly what you're talking about! My story "After 5" was written, as you said, "as if the tale had been written earlier and stored magically." It's so wonderful when that happens! It makes writing so much fun. I enjoyed reading your thoughts,knowing that others feel the same way about writing. What a fascinating gift we've been given--to be a writer.
Cordially,
Starr*R
monty31802
Submitted Comment:
Great Newsletter WD, held my interest, going to stare at that wall now.
JACE
Submitted Comment:
I read with great interest your editorial about "The Zone." It was uncanny as I've felt the very same way. My thing, though, is not a blank wall; rather, I'm in a crowded coffee shop or similar location. Some of my better characters come as a result of watching folk's mannerisms, looks, walks, and the like. My imagination kicks in and off I go, trying to keep up with my pen.
Great job, my friend.
Jace
P.H. Savage
Submitted Comment:
Your newsletter was awesome! It was almost like reunion for me, remembering the first time I was in "the zone". :)
Ash
Submitted Comment:
This is a great newsletter. I enjoyed the description of the zone. I also enjoyed reading The Man in the Mirror even though it was a pretty dark piece of writing.
Keep up the good work,
Ash
strayndnjcv
Submitted Comment:
I feel really special right now...
D.L. Fields
Submitted Comment:
I have to put myself into a mystical, trance-like state to write well enough to suit me. I'll remember the "there was" comments and try to eliminate them unless they're necessary for the scene.
Sorry, but I didn't care for the "G-spot" line; it's overused and if you're concentrating on hitting that, you're missing on all the other fun parts.
Keep writing!
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