Brain Working Slowly…Need A New Story Line

Having to perform a hard left turn after thinking you’ve got your story well underway sure fouls up a writer’s train of thought! Everything, and I do mean everything, must be rethought when your facts won’t allow you to move ahead. You know, small stuff like the mountains in relation to the grassland; and how many million ground squirrels there are per square foot that I originally thought were prairie dogs; farming bison as a food source (all the ones I saw had ear tags like cattle do).

Alcohol is readily available, hence not much need for a moonshine still. People who don’t want to live in or around Browning generally find a smaller town on the Rez where a more traditional existence goes on. It kind of messes up the whole idea of his Father and he being loners living in the nearby woods – they aren’t very near by.

All of this leads to one big realization: The story line I had in mind won’t work. That’s what I get for not doing the research first! I’ll just have to come up with something new and exciting, like the writer being gored by a bull buffalo!

I Walked In The Land Of Weird

I was able to participate in my Youngest’s wedding last week. There was an assortment of strangely-garbed friends of theirs dancing around, no doubt trying to imitate some sort of Tribal ritual known only to my new Son-In-Law. My walking stick was ready to do battle if needed.

It turned out to be the hottest day of the year in Seattle, so the shade trees were a welcome relief. The ceremony was actually very nice once the Star Wars theme concluded. It didn’t matter…my little girl was getting married to the man of her dreams – then they ran down and jumped around in the Seattle Center fountain to cap that part of their day.

So brought to an end ten days of an emotional marathon that my body has yet to forgive me for. I went to the swimming pool for physical therapy the next day and had a hard time getting out when I was done. There was nothing left.

Even working on the editing of my next book, The Sheep Eater, was a conscious effort to break through the mind numbing details for a few days. The first edit is done, plus all the necessary forms the publisher wants for art work and marketing. That is a story all its own.

Now I sit and wait for my best friend from Idaho, just outside Nez Perce country, to stop by for a brief visit. Fortunately, he knows my housekeeping habits…they’re rustic.

I promise I’ll get back to writing about what I write about soon. Meanwhile, buy books and read up about the Mountain Shoshone!

Is It Me Or Is My Computer Slower?

I just completed my pre-edit for The Sheep Eater and passed it along to my editor. Of course I haven’t sent the Detail Sheet or the Cover Art form yet because they need some sort of conversion to allow it from “read only.” How come every time I start to work on them I want to lay my head down on my desk and take a nap?

I’ve noticed that it takes a bit to get up to speed with typing after you haven’t done it seriously for a while. The fingers have forgotten where certain letters and symbols exist. I doubt that the Tribes had that problem with painting long ago. A mistake in a painting might be sold as visionary among the Elders with a creative embellishment by the painter.

I’ve got time to get up to speed. Tomorrow is my youngest Daughter’s Big Day, so I should prepare to be shocked and amazed. I’m taking my walking stick just in case things get too rowdy, though. You never know which cartoon character will get out of line at one of these things and I’ll need to whack one.

May the Great Spirit protect us all!

 

The Retirement Axiom

I give up. I’ve fallen into the mantra of “where does all the time go” since I retired. Most of it is self-inflicted, but if it wasn’t for daughters getting married and doctors’ visits, my social calendar would be a breeze!

One daughter getting hitched is enough for my plate, but two within ten days of each other? Where’s my anti-anxiety pills? The funny thing is that I have little to do in preparation for either of their nuptial ambitions, except to be “Dad.” Neither groom is planning on giving me a string of ponies that I’m aware of, either. So much for the anticipated lawn maintenance bonus.

What was I thinking? I’m pretty sure the tribes had it right – if you want my daughter, give me something useful. I already have a new truck, so how about a boat or camping trailer? I don’t think that will ever materialize, but it’s a nice thought.

After their whoop-dee-dos, I will have to turn back to a first-round edit of my new book, due toward the end of August. New editor – new rules – new learning curve. It’s a good thing I went to Montana when I did, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to venture far from my desk this summer.

It’s good that I can write all of this down for posterity. That way, when I look up from my death bed, I can say that I survived retirement longer than most and I will live on in the digital world. I can hear St. Peter snickering now.

When It Rains…

I collected a whole satchel-full of information off the Montana research trip. I’ve only begun to sort it out. Now I’ve got to turn my attention to my middle Daughter’s wedding on the 2nd, but wait!

What’s this I see in my inbox? It’s from my new editor. “Fill out these forms; read these publications; I need your first edit run-through sooner than later; Is that a problem?”

I’m not complaining because I’d much rather be doing these things than sitting around watching TV re-runs. This just brings another dimension to “Hurry up and wait” and I’m hoping the new book is worth the wait!

Montana Is Rough On Rigs

Many years ago my young family and I were making our way to Billings on a dark, rainy night, when the VW 411 we owned began sounding like a machine gun went off in the engine compartment and smoke filled the passenger compartment. Upon inspection I noted several aluminum balls lying on the engine block covered in oil. Long story short, we had to sell the car for parts and have my Father-in-Law drive us to Kalispell where he had an old, rusted out 56 Chev that still ran and could get us home.

Yesterday, I was doing a car tour of the area surrounding the Blackfeet Reservation when my trusty ’07 Chevy’s transmission decided to self-destruct near Cut Bank. I made it into the local GM dealership where I was given grim news – the nearest available transmission couldn’t get there until next Monday and they might be able to get it installed by Wednesday to the tune of over $3,000 (that I don’t have readily available).

My salesman, Doug, happened to be the Mayor of the town. He was able to get me a great deal on a 2014 truck that looked almost identical to mine plus several upgrades mine didn’t have. The payments would be a hundred bucks less a month than I’ve been paying, to boot. Hmmm. Buyers remorse or stay in Cut Bank on public assistance for a few weeks? Sold! The lemonade was made.

Now I have a brandy-spankin’-new truck sitting outside my motel. Although I shall miss my old one, I can get used to this. I just have to figure out which buttons to push for launching hellfire missiles. It sure beats the 56 Chevy experience!

Otherwise, I lost a day of research. Back to work double time!

 

I’m A Believer

Now I totally believe in first hand research. Many things I read about doing research for my new work in progress were a bit off the mark, particularly having to do with some background information on the countryside.

Things I have found so far: The Blackfeet (and yes they are the BlackFEET, Ellen) in the Southern band located in Montana are the Pikuni (pic-uhn-ee). The Siksika I wrote about in the last post live in Canada along with a couple of other bands.

Badger Two Medicine is a place in Glacier National Park that is not sacred to the Pikuni as I was led to believe. It was named Two Medicine for two medicine men that had separate lodges on a lake there. The sacred place to go for visions is Chief Mountain at the end of the mountain range, a long way from Two Medicine.

Right now North American Indian Days is happening in Browning, the headquarters for the Blackfeet Nation. Tribes from all over the U.S. and Canada are participating. On my way to the grand entry last night, I drove by a good-sized herd of bison. Apparently they are managed for food by the tribe because all the adults had ear tags like the cattle in the area.

I’ll try to post some pictures as soon as I figure out how to do it from Dropbox and not delete the post in the process as I did last night. Meanwhile, the event lasts through Sunday (13th) and I plan to glean as much info as possible before heading back to the barn!

The Horses Are Calling!

At least the horses under the hood of my Chevy truck are. I had a good chuckle the other day when my Publisher tried to correct me on the proper name of the Tribe I’m going to visit. She insists they are the BlackFOOT because all the Blackfeet she knows in Canada call themselves Blackfoot and they apparently get touchy about being identified otherwise. Everything I’ve read and heard in the historical literature says BlackFEET! The challenge is on! I will be filling up a memory card and emailing it to her in the near future, I can tell. I will give her credit for knowing the three different tribal divisions, though – two in Alberta and one in Montana. She’s a bit of a history buff except for the Blackfeet part.

Meanwhile, back on the Blackfeet Reservation in Browning, MT, I will be taking in their annual North American Indian Days celebration and playing like a big sponge. The Siksika (Blackfeet) apparently put on quite the shindig and I’m looking forward to witnessing as much of it as they will allow.

If I don’t make it back, a grizzly has no doubt found me and is enjoying a tasty buffet somewhere in Glacier National Park!

That reminds me: I can’t forget to pack my Black Socks

Gearing Up

What do you do when you need an armload of information and you can’t get it on your computer? ROAD TRIP!

In a couple of weeks I’ll be heading East, hopefully ending up in and around Browning, Montana for their North American Indian Days celebration that happens July 10 – 13 this year. There’s nothing like seeing and feeling the area you want to write about and make the story believable, especially to the people who live around there. Otherwise, you might as well write about downtown Squirrel Bait, Louisiana and call it good.

Seeing an area with fresh senses adds to the interest of a story. I haven’t been in that area in over thirty years, so my senses should be pretty fresh – and hopefully not petrified. My main character will be on a journey through the Badger Two-Medicine area where motorized vehicles of any sort or not allowed. Beyond that I wonder what the countryside is like? Flat? Mountainous?

To some of the Blackfeet, the area is sacred. Now there is oil and natural gas drilling going on in places. How expansive is it? Is there a larger-than-average drug and alcohol problem on the Rez? How does that affect the culture? I don’t want to presume anything. I just want the story to reflect some of the important happenings of the culture.

This is going to be exciting if I survive it! Did I mention the huge grizzly bear species and habitat restoration program the Blackfeet have worked on for years? It would be awesome to see one or two at a distance, but I won’t hold my breath.

What is life like on the other side of The Backbone of the World?

 

 

NEWS

I have jut been informed that “The Sheep Eater” has been picked up by Champagne Book Group today who has already assigned an editor to the project! A contract is being prepared now. I don’t have any other details right at the moment, but I’ll keep everyone posted as things progress.

This story takes place in Montana near Yellowstone National Park and the main character is a young Mountain Shoshone whose band is known as the Sheep Eaters. He is a ranch hand with…issues.

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