When we were children, my brother and I spent many hours riding our corn stalk horses over the hills and hollows of my grandparents’ farm playing cowboys. Often we’d shoot it out with outlaws with our tree limb rifles or our crooked root guns. Again we’d round up our cattle, which most often was our grandma’s one milk cow, and pretend to herd them into the pasture. We steered clear of our grandpa’s mule, though. He had a tendency to kick so we regulated him to being the mount the rustlers or other bad guy rode in on.
When winter arrived and we were not outside as much, we’d spend hours pouring over comic books which contained such western heroes as Roy Rogers, Lash LaRue, Gene Autry, Red Ryder, or the Long Ranger among others.
On Saturdays, Daddy would often take us to the Liberty Theater and we’d watch two or three western movies in a row. Sometimes Daddy would stay with us, but as we got older, we were allowed to stay in the theater alone.
As we grew and were able to buy a television set, we often watched old western movies on Saturday afternoons. When we were a little older there were such series as Matt Dillon, Bonanza, High Chaparral, and Rawhide. There was even a kid’s series about a dude ranch called Spin and Marty. It aired on the Mickey Mouse Club.
So why did it take me so long to begin writing Western Romance?
I honestly don’t know why. My daddy, who after retirement read as many as five western books a week until his death, often told me I should write a western.
I can only say, now that I’ve started writing in the genre, I think I’ve found my place in the writing world.
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