The Process Begins

“The heat was hot and the ground was dry, but the air was full of sound…” So go the words to Horse with No Name by America. The band was trying to capture the essence of the desert and its honesty. Their use of language and unique chords (There are only three basic chords) bring the song down to a level that almost anyone can sing and understand. Out here in Arizona, it keeps me on an even keel every time I hear it, and I get lost in its machinations.

Big words for a blog, I know. I came out here to get away from my small town roots and to try and get a feel for big city life. I could have gone to Chicago or St. Louis, but they have one ingredient I no longer desire---snow. After 50 some odd years of putting up with snow and ice and slipping, falling, and shoveling it, I wanted to get out and experience the desert.

The old adage is, "Be careful what you wish for." I got my wish for the heat this week. It is always warm out here; there are no bones about that. When Christmas Day means outdoor meals, shorts and flip flops, it is always warm. Weather people out here do not even use the term “Hot” until the temps get above 110. And when it does rain during the Monsoon Season, it is a major event akin to the developing snowstorm back in the East and Midwest.

I have become more laid back out here. I don’t get excited about too much anymore, except maybe the Cubs and the Bears (the Dbacks have yet to win me over). And bad drivers (people don’t believe in turn signals out here). And the state government (makes me long for Rod Blagoyevich and Pat Quinn). And the price of gas (we need a special blend out here). Guys wearing guns on their hips used to upset me, but I went out and got a license to carry a gun myself, so old 00Don may be packing heat, but the crazies can’t tell that. I don’t display my gun much, though, the holster brings down my pants below a protrusion I have developed around my middle.

Nope, out here as I dry out, I have begun to remember my name, and I have begun to recall my childhood in Central Illinois. Not all of it, mind you, because the selective perception I have developed has altered my recollection of events and people. I have begun to write down the events as I remember them back in the humidity of the Midwest. And soon, those memories will be put out there for the world to see.

The old TV series, Dragnet used to start with, “The story you are about to hear is true, the names have been changed to protect the innocent.” I can’t vouch for the veracity of the tale, nor can I tell you that names are real. Most names are not, and some events have been changed to make me look good. After all, it is my book!

Doughnut

News on the Novel Front

The wind whistled through the crack in the door and the dog howled at the open window.

Not a bad start for a mystery story, you think? Has all the elements: gains and captures the attention, inspires some hair on the back of the neck to rise. Makes the reader want to read on and see what see what happens. All great novels and stories do this.

I am presently working on a novel, but it is not a mystery novel. It is what is called a creative non-fiction novel. This means that it is fiction based on fact. I deal with living in a small town in Central Illinois during the 60s and 70s. Some of the incidents happened to me, but some happened to others, and I attach them to my personna. It makes me seem a lot more interesting than I am. But it tries to attain a certain simplicity that was those times.

From time to time, I will give you updates on the book. To get ahead of the curve, though, you might want to look up Hoopeston, Illinois. Those of you that live in Central Illinois know about Cornjerkerland already, those that don't are in for a surprise. Oh, and look up doughnuts...it will make your mouth water.

I hope to have the book done by the end of September. I should be on track unless I do something like get a real job.

Doughnut