Tuesday, July 21, 2015
Don't be trapped by the idea that everything in a scene must be only what the protagonist would see or hear, etc.. Omniscient point of view has been used by good writers since story telling began, and still is. If you and your readers think it works, do it. In moderation of course. Don't be cowed by the opinions of half-baked greenhorn post-grad editors.
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
"Well,' said Clyde smiling, "according to Dutch and some of the others, some of those mission Indins weren't too happy. Kinda slave labor for the padres."
Cal frowned. "Ah, bullshit," he growled. "More of that ol' anti-Catholic crap they peddle. I've talked to lots of old-timers about that, including some old ex-mission Indins, like Gabriel down there at the house. They say the Padres only took in Indin families who wanted to sign up. Indins who thought it might beat scratchin' a livin' out there in the toolies. Good food and shelter for their families, and the chance to learn a White man's trade or craft."
Looking towards the mission, Clyde said, "They used to whip 'em for runnin' away, didn't they?"
"Hell yeah they did. Just like any American apprentice runnin' away back East. And lots of ways to punish them without gettin' physical."
"True enough," agreed Clyde as they turned onto the road and headed back towards town.
"The wild ones still stayed wild," Cal added. "Huntin', fishin', fightin' and stealin', like always. Especially the young single braves. Takin' their chances with other tribes, outlaws, bandidos, drunken miners and soldiers. Not willin' or able to see that the old days were gone for good."
(from Cal MacLamond Western still in the works)
Monday, April 20, 2015
"The little Irish vet who played the spoons yells, "He's probably one of Kaiser Bill's Krauts," which makes the women at the table start laughing, and sends the tough-guy right over the top. He hits the big Mick in the chest with a surprise short jab then draws back his right arm for the finishing blow. But this vet is as big as he is, and faster. He skips the fancy stuff and nails the tough guy with a pile-driver right between the eyes. The bouncer staggers back, and the two others rush in to help him. Now women are screaming all over the place, fists are flying; and I figure it's time to take the girls home." (from EGYPT BURNING)
Monday, March 9, 2015
" 'Welcome home, sailor,' says she, and sliding her bare arms around my neck gave me a kiss that was as unexpected as it was sensual. Her warm, small-breasted body rested against me for a second, then she was hugging Sis and Owen and giving me a charming view of her back-side, thinly draped in a dark-green dress that was way ahead of its time, tighter and shorter than anything I'd seen since Shanghai. Our dear Norah was definitely a pioneer version of what would come to be know as a Flapper."