Recently I took a road trip with my mom and sister to see the Country Jam in Grand Junction, Colorado. Hearing the country music and watching all the cowboys in the crowd made me anxious to get home and finish the final re-write on the latest book I’ve been working on. The country atmosphere also made me contemplate starting another contemporary western adventure story.
I grew up around horses. My dad was a team roper and my sister and I dabbled at barrel racing, but more than rodeo, horses were just a way of life. I never had a tricycle or roller skates, but I had a pony. The pony was a source of constant entertainment as well as a way to round up the rest of the horses from the pasture at night and bring them into the corrals.
We didn’t take trips when I was young unless horses were involved. I probably didn’t appreciate my dad’s idea of a family vacation--a week-long pack trip in the Washakie Wilderness of the Shoshone National Forest. I’m sure at the time I would have rather gone to Disney Land, but looking back it was one of many experiences few could even imagine.
One of my most harrowing, “Man from Snowy River,” moments came on a cattle drive and I’ve striven in my novel to recapture that feeling of defying gravity on horseback. I want the reader to hold their breath until the end of the scene the way I did when I wrote it. In the book I also hope to share some of the most spectacular mountain scenery I’ve ever seen, and I travel a lot. Haven’t I mentioned that?