Reporting on poetry.

The Spring/Summer 2018 issue of Saddlebag Dispatches is now available, and it’s a keeper. Most of its pages, rightly so, honor the late, great Dusty Richards—founder and executive editor of the publication, as well as award-winning author and all-around good guy. A car accident took Dusty’s life earlier this year, and his passing was noted in a post at the time.

But, as always, there’s more to the magazine. Including a big, colorful article about one of the world’s best Western celebrations, the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko, Nevada.

I had the privilege to report and write the story, and illustrate it with photos I took (despite specious rumors and claims to the contrary) at the 2018 Gathering. Quoted in the story are first-time visitors and some who have attended for years, as well as poets.

My regular “Best of the West” column features the great Western movie High Noon.

The story—and all else in the magazine—are well worth a read. Visit Saddlebag Dispatches for online access or to order a printed copy.

Lies They Tell Writers, Part 44: Editors Love Enthusiasm.

Once upon a time I wrote a short essay about passion—being passionate, following your passion, lack of passion being a fatal flaw, that sort of thing—rendering my opinion that the whole notion is overblown.

It caused something of a stir. Some agreed with my ruminations, others did not. One reader (and fine writer) opined that passion was a prerequisite and that fire and enthusiasm for the work were important considerations for editors.

Perhaps. And there’s certainly nothing wrong with being passionate about your writing if that’s what butters your biscuit.

But it ain’t necessarily so.

A reliable—but not precise—accounting of editors I have worked with includes some 15 or so with magazines and periodicals, at least two dozen on anthologies of short fiction or poetry, and somewhere north of 20 in the process of getting books, both fiction and nonfiction, into print. Some editors I have worked with on only one or a few occasions; several of them many, many times.

None ever asked about, commented on, or required enthusiasm—passion—on my part.

But I have absorbed a few notions about what seems to be widely regarded among the red pencil set. Here’s some of it.

Good ideas are valuable. Not just ideas that are good on their own, but good ideas that fit the nature of the editor’s requirements. It should go without saying that they expect quality writing—well-structured and readable and all that, with a certain amount of flair. Research—when applicable—should be thorough and your facts should be straight; even fiction should feel credible. Your manuscripts should be clean; as free of typos as possible with proper grammar and punctuation and spelling and such.

Finally, and probably most important, editors like reliability. If you meet deadlines, keep your promises, and do what you say you will—and are asked to—do, you’ll be doing everyone a favor. Including yourself and your career.

If you’re passionate on top of all that, fine. But don’t plan on enthusiasm alone getting you through.

Woody Allen is credited with this little bit of wisdom: “Eighty percent of success is showing up.” In the broader sense, that advice certainly applies to writing.

Really Stupid Words, Chapter Two

American English is a rich language. It’s always changing and evolving. New words and usages come and go. Many that come along are helpful. They clarify, they improve, they enhance and enrich.

But some are just plain stupid.

They obfuscate, they complicate, they confuse. They reveal a lack of understanding.

Think about “proactive.”

I was surprised to learn that it has been around, in a limited way, for a long, long time. Fortunately, no one used it much until, say, 30 or so years ago. Since then, it has become one of the most overused words in our language. Not only in business circles, where made-up trendy buzzwords often find a home, but by regular folks, as well.

It’s supposed to mean the opposite of “react” or “reactive.” Apparently, no one stops to think that those words are opposites of perfectly good words—act and active—so don’t really need an opposite themselves.

If “active” doesn’t seem to fit, try “aggressive” or “concerted” or “determined” or “resolute” or “take the initiative.” We could go on.

Whatever words you choose to describe an active approach to something, there’s no point, really, in resorting to a stupid, meaningless, but apparently important-sounding (to some) word such as “proactive.”

Therefore, I will be proactive in my efforts to eliminate it.

Along the Old Spanish Trail.

There’s a well-known saying about the Old Spanish Trail: it isn’t old, and it isn’t Spanish. But from 1829 until 1848, more or less, it was an important trade route linking Santa Fe to Los Angeles. Mexican traders (and others) loaded strings of pack mules with woolen goods in New Mexico, trailed them to California, and traded for horses and mules. The animals—many thousands of them—were trailed back to New Mexico then sold on to Missouri, Old Mexico, and other markets. Thieves also raided California ranches for horses and mules for the same purpose, as well as selling them to the U.S. Army for use in the Mexican-American war. Traders in Indian slaves used parts of the route as well.

Not long ago, I had the privilege of exploring the Old Spanish Trail through Utah with the Utah Westerners. Through slickrock and sagebrush, deserts and mountains, sand and shadscale, we followed the route as nearly as possible, almost from border to border. Along the way, we were guided and educated by well-informed local historians as well as members of the Westerners.

The Utah Westerners set off on such a field trip every summer, but this was my first with the group of historians and history buffs. It will not be my last.

(Thanks to Utah Westerner Steve Berlin for the photos.)

My Favorite Book, Part 14.

A River Runs Through It is a small book. Something over 100 pages in most editions. And it’s the only “book” Norman Maclean ever wrote. (There is a published but unfinished nonfiction book about the Mann Gulch Fire, Young Men and Fire, and a few long short stories, published with A River Runs Through It in some editions.)

On the surface, A River Runs Through It is a story about fly fishing on Montana rivers. I am not interested in fly fishing. What the book is really about is love—not romantic love, but the love among a father and a mother and their two sons, with a tiny bit of romance thrown in for good measure. It contains elements of some old stories. There are hints of Cain and Abel, Isaac and Ishmael, and the story of the Prodigal Son.

Unlike many books, but like many of my favorite books, there’s a lot of ambiguity in its pages. You have to pay attention. And it doesn’t end in what many readers would consider a satisfactory way.

Again, there’s some ambiguity there.

Maclean doesn’t provide many answers, but he does deliver a lot of questions. And that means the story stays with you long after you close the book. So much so that, like me, you’ll be inclined to open it again (and again) sometime to see what kinds of questions it asks this time.

Post-game interview with a writer.

We’ve all heard athletes face the microphones after a game. What if writers had to do the same after a day at the keyboard?

Question: What have you got to say for yourself after today’s performance?

Answer: Needless to say, it wasn’t the kind of showing we hoped for. We hoped for a better result. It just didn’t happen for us this time, and that’s the way it goes sometimes. So, we have to put it behind us and move on. There will always be ups and downs in this game.

As writers, we face adversity every day. We just have to step up and show what we’re made of; show some character. Establish our identity and show what kind of writers we want to be.

It’s important to remember that this is a marathon, not a sprint. It’s a long season, and it’s not over until we type that last period at the end of the last page. We just have to keep at it, one letter at a time. Do our part to get the next word right, the next sentence, and not worry too much about what the next chapter might bring.

We have to concentrate on the things we can control, and not dwell in the past. We have to brush off that split infinitive, forget that dangling participle, and get back out there and write. As you know, it’s a simple matter of putting in the kind of work it’s going to take if we want to control our own destiny.

Higher Education.

Colorado Springs, Colorado is 6,035 feet above sea level. As cities in the United State go, it’s pretty high. (No jokes about the state’s marijuana laws, please.) Being invited there to teach workshops at the Pikes Peak Writers Conference should qualify as higher education.

I was there recently doing just that and enjoyed the visit and the conference.

It’s a big event, with somewhere near 400 writers attending to improve their craft. There are five sessions underway at any given time, with a total of 75 workshops over the course of two-and-a-half days of the conference, not counting preliminary events and other offerings.

At 6,035 feet, the air is pretty thin in Colorado Springs. But writers are thick during the Pikes Peak Writers Conference. It was good to be there and share ideas with some of them.

P.S. The photo above is Garden of the Gods, a beautiful park tucked between the city and the mountains. Well worth a visit.