Announcing a New Novel

I cannot tell you what a relief it is to announce that my latest novel, A MAN OF HONOR, is now in processing at Amazon for imminent Kindle release. I started this western nearly two years ago, and it has proven incredibly difficult to write. Life has been full of distractions, but I kept chipping away at it a few paragraphs or pages at a time.

I think of my past production, when I used to write three books a year, then later advanced to producing one 100,000-word tome annually. As I worked on this one–so small-scaled and unambitious in comparison–I kept beating up myself with reminders of what I used to do. I asked myself over and over what was wrong with me, other than being overwhelmed by a ton of unexpected hardships in a worldwide pandemic. I told myself that being confined to my house should be wonderful for getting writing done.

But this book was different. It didn’t flow at all.

Am I rusty? Yes. After all, our writing skills can corrode in as little as two weeks.

Did I think of my professional writing students, particularly those who struggle desperately with their novel assignments and are so obviously beating their brains to produce words that won’t come? Yes, I did.

Did I reassure myself that I haven’t lost the knack–that, despite the pressure of deadlines and personal high standards of professionalism, creativity cannot be forced without dire consequences? Yes, I did.

Did I have to figure out that talent can be abused and imagination can be injured if we aren’t careful? Did I have to decide to let the creative process heal in its own time and in its own way? Yes, I did.

So, despite a steadily ticking clock of passing days and eroding time, I had to let this project run free and not force it. Above all, I had to trust in my innate story sense and skills in the writing craft and just be patient.

How scary is that?

Over Thanksgiving, I stared ahead at the approaching end of the year and had no idea of how to pull my central story line and two subplots together into a climax.

No idea. I–teacher of writing, coach of the craft–had no clue.

Beyond scary.

Sure, I knew the construction. I hadn’t forgotten what’s obligatory for ending a story in a cathartic way that satisfies readers. But that didn’t mean the story fell into place the way it should, the way it used to, the way I wanted it to.

Years ago, my writing teacher Jack Bickham used to say over and over to his students: Trust the process.

He taught me so much, but I think that advice might just be the most valuable of all. Trust the process. Once you learn the craft, trust it. Always. Listen to your story sense.

Between classes one day, I sat down and sketched out my story question and what my villains were doing. I ordered them sequentially in how I thought they should be dealt with as the plot wrapped up. And then, as the semester closed, and with no feeling of inspiration or confidence whatsoever, I planted myself in my writing chair to write the ending. And it came. Not exactly the way I’d outlined in my miniature planning session, but that was okay. What my story sense supplied was better. Several drafts later, I could type THE END with a feeling of relief and accomplishment.

I had already printed out a hard copy of the rest of the manuscript just before Thanksgiving. Those of you who know me well should recognize that as a book nears completion, I start to freak and take extra precautions to protect it. I lugged that manuscript out of state and back. Didn’t look at it. Didn’t touch it. But if life happened to zap my house and blow apart my computer, I had digital copies scattered about and most importantly I had it on paper. After I finished tweaking the climax, I printed it out and added it to the stack of pages.

With grading behind me and with considerable trepidation, I sat down to read/edit what I expected to be a patchwork of inconsistency, gaps, plot holes, and sloppy scenes. To my astonishment, I found nothing loose or gaping in the plot. One character underwent a name change partway through. I fixed that, firmed up some variant spellings and stylistic things, and tightened sentences. I dithered for an hour over the last sentence and finally left it alone.

Is the result deathless prose? No.

Is this the great American novel? No.

Does it hold together, flow smoothly, and deliver a decent tale of the old West? I think so.

Did I meet my deadline after all? Yes, yes, yes!

In the past, I would have hidden these writing travails. I would have put on my professional mask and let you think this one rolled out as smoothly as the previous fiction I’ve done. But I think maybe, for those of you who struggle with words or scenes or subplots or character design, maybe sharing my battle will prove encouraging. I’m deeply grateful for the skills in craft that I’ve learned over the years. I do trust the process even when I feel unsure or scared that I’m writing a hot mess. I’m blessed to have whatever drop of story sense I possess. And I’m stubborn enough to keep trying, even when the path is less than smooth.

A MAN OF HONOR is the story of a gunman for hire, who travels around the New Mexico Territory somewhat like Paladin–protagonist of the old radio and TV western series, THIS GUN FOR HIRE. My protagonist helps folks with their troubles, but he’s a deeply broken man inside, grieving for a wife and child who were killed years before. He’s sworn vengeance, and he’s hunted his enemy for a very long time. But just when he crosses paths with the villain, he’s hindered by a young woman and a little boy who each desperately need his help. Will he sacrifice his honor and ignore their plight to pursue his revenge? Or will he do what’s right?

I’ll post a link to Amazon once the book goes live.