A lot of folks ask me for advise in matters of the heart. Why? I don’t know. Maybe they think I’ve screwed up enough times to be some sort of expert; maybe they’re right? But, for the young men out there who are confused and exasperated by the other sex, don’t despair, there are three things I know about women. Once you learn these three things, life gets much, much, easier. Study these three things young men of the world and it will save you approximately thirty five years of trying to accomplish an impossible feat; trying to understand women.
#1: Wherever you are hurt, that’s the place they are going to touch you. It does not matter if they have ever touched that part of your body before; as soon as you are in range they are going to poke, pat, slap, tickle, prod or sit on wherever you are hurt.
#2: When a woman tells you something is ‘FINE’ you can bet your last centavo, the house, the 401k (if you still have any money in it) or your life; it is not ‘FINE.’ If you have the chance to grab the dog and run, do so. Because your life is soon to be anything but, ‘FINE.’
#3: The last thing I know about women is; The man that tells you he won an argument with a woman, is either a liar or the dumbest SOB on the planet earth. Men, we do not WIN! You may present every proof known to modern science to back up your claim. You can provide charts, diagrams, even those really kool overhead things that shine on the wall. You can argue your point for three days without sleep and wear them down to where they say, “Okay, what ever.” They may let you believe, that they believe, what you are saying is right, but I guarantee; two years, three years later if the same subject comes up, they will be right back where they were when you started.
I believe Jack Nickelson said it best in the movie, As Good as it Gets. In the scene where the gal asks him, ‘how does he write women so well?’ Jack pauses for a beat and then replies, “I think of a man and then I take away reason and accountability.” God, I love that quote. Until, next time, good luck with your romance. Oh! Guys, if you need any help just call me and I’ll fix you right up. Later
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One of the questions a lot of folks ask me is: How did you get started writing?
My answer is: Totally by accident. While it is true I started writing my first novel while I was recuperating from surgery on a broken back. I had written a lot of other things before then, an outdoor column in the local paper, some songs, a couple of magazine articles, a poem or two but never a book. I was like a lot of people who were always going to someday but never stopped long enough to do so. The broken back gave me the time whether I wanted to or not.
Also, I had a lot of motivation to write a Western. Mainly because, I’d read so many Western novels that were so bad and so incorrect when it came to the cowboy life, horsemanship, tack, working cattle, handling firearms, roping, ect… I won’t mention any titles or authors by name in a negative way, mostly due to creating bad feelings amongst other writers and fear of liable suits. But, I’m here to tell you, when you read a book where the rider repeatedly either spurs his horse in the flanks, is stabbing his toe into the horse’s flanks or kicking his horse in the flanks, the author knows nothing about riding a horse. They may be a great writer in terms of style, use of the English language, ect… but they are a neophyte trying to write like they are a Cowboy. Another term would be a Poser. One reason I don’t write stories about Brain Surgeons is I wouldn’t know what I was talking about; I wish that same consideration would be given to Westerns.
Let me tell you right now, when you are a youngster making your first solo or semi-solo (semi-solo is when your in the saddle by yourself but your Dad or Mom still has a lead rope on the horse and they control where you go) the first words out of any instructor’s mouth is; ‘Keep your feet forward out of the horse’s flanks.’ The reason for these words of advice is, the flank of a horse is also referred to as his ticklish spot. Not all but many horses go to bucking if you kick, grip, spur or perform any other foreign activity, there.
If you were like we were around the Smith place, there was always more kids wanting to ride than there were horses to ride. The solution was walk or ride double (or triple or up to six kids at a time in the case of our old red horse Star), we didn’t do too much walking. When you ride double the rule of keeping your feet out of the horse’s flanks becomes even more important. Let me give you an example.
Years ago one of my best friends Dean McKee and I were spending a Sunday afternoon together. This happened quite frequently since after church was over we would go to one parents house to eat lunch (usually Dean’s) and then to the other’s house to finish lunch (usually ours). There never seemed to be enough food to fill me up as a teenager, but that’s a whole ‘nother story. The rule of thumb for deciding where to eat first depended on what we were doing after both lunches were devoured. If there was say a sandlot football game (touch of course; right) set for in town, we would eat at my house first, since we were in the country, and then go back into town to Dean’s house. We had to eat fast of course because there were younger brothers at both places and you never knew what they might inhale before you got there.
Anyway, on this particular Sunday we ate at Dean’s first because we were going to ride Star once we were through taking in as much nourishment as possible. So, I was the pilot and Dean was riding on the rumble seat (so to speak). We went loping across the neighbor’s hay meadow (you could still do that sort of stuff back in those days without the Sheriff being called to arrest you for trespassing). Anyway, we got to riding the trails that lead through a wooded, brier invested piece of beautiful wild country we called the Bear’s nest (named by my Dad).
Now, Dean and I rode a lot and he sure knew to keep his feet out of Star’s flanks; he usually did. This time though we were coming up out of a small creek and one of the blackberry briar’s had decided to invade the formerly clear trail. Star, not wanting to scratch himself, jumped the bush. Since we were moving a moderately high speed, Star’s unexpected leap threw Dean forward. Two things happened then, one was he butted me in the back of the head. The other was, he wrapped his legs around Star’s flanks and the bronc ride was on.
Now, when Dean came forward and butted me in the back of the head I went forward just in time to meet Star’s head and neck coming back up. He would hit me in the face and back I’d go in order to meet Dean’s head again with the back of mine. They had it perfectly timed and choreographed to make my head feel like a ping pong ball at a international tournament. One thing to keep in mind is; at that time in the roping horse world, it was believed you had to keep your horse’s mane roached (cut short like a burr haircut) in order to keep it from tangling up in your rope. Star’s mane was short but he was due a haircut so the end result was a neck long strip of spikes ready to stab the unsuspecting in the face with a force equal to your average NFL running back hitting you helmet to helmet.
With each jump Star made across that hay meadow, Dean would butt me in the back of the head then star would hit me in the face with either his head or his stubble. Neither felt very good. After about a half dozen or so crow hops Dean left the back of the horse. It was not the most graceful of exits but it was effective enough to pacify Star that his flanks were safe and no longer under attack.
You can believe me when I say there were two teenage, punch drunk, boys that afternoon that had definitely learned to keep their feet out of the horse’s flanks. I would love to have the opportunity to duplicate that ride, with them in the saddle, for all of the writers out there that believe kicking a horse in the flanks is the technique used to make a horse run.
So, I guess in answer to the original question of how I got started writing, you’d have to go along ways back to that hay meadow on a Sunday afternoon when two teenage boys were learning the truth about a horse’s flanks. If I have upset any writer or writers that have repeatedly used this phrase, all I can say by way of apology is; too damn bad.
Check in again and I’ll have more answers to things ‘a lot of folks ask me.’
