Run, Man, Run; or, High Plains Adventures in Novel Writing

Let’s see…where was I before I dropped off the face of the earth a few weeks ago? Funny how novel writing brings out the best and worst of one’s inner self. (Cue any spaghetti western theme here, as its wailing singers and off-kilter drumming is the only kind of soundtrack appropriate for the angst-ridden wackness of . . . → Read More: Run, Man, Run; or, High Plains Adventures in Novel Writing

How the Western Heart Is Won; or, Happy Valentine’s Day in Cowboylands

The West has something for everyone on Valentine’s Day…

For the breast-loving bucko or buckarette (but be respectful–Hannie Caulder is primed for vengeance)

Raquel Welch in Hannie Caulder, 1971

For the beefcake-loving buckarette or bucko (but if you want him to do anything but pose, he’ll have to put . . . → Read More: How the Western Heart Is Won; or, Happy Valentine’s Day in Cowboylands

Death Valley Daze; or, Just Abandon Hope Already

Poor Real just wanted to see palm trees and movie stars. What Real got was Corpus Christi.

I’ve been there. Beautiful vistas and epic moments have sparkled like stars in my eyes and then been ground into affluvial dust in slogs up and down ridges with a laden pack and no trail and wondering if my urban . . . → Read More: Death Valley Daze; or, Just Abandon Hope Already

Ten Feet from Hell; or, Tell It to the Vintage Postcard

Here’s another vintage postcard, courtesy of Bob Heman. Its hokiness portrays one of the most desolate, awe-inspiring, and dangerous national parks in the United States, Death Valley. (Well, dangerous for the unobservant tourist who forgets water or relies solely on their car’s GPS system.)

For me the front symbolizes those postcard-selling havens of air-conditioning that . . . → Read More: Ten Feet from Hell; or, Tell It to the Vintage Postcard