Writing “The Rustler” is a real experience, deeply emotional. I had a tough time getting going on it, what with the normal rush of summer and Dad deciding to saddle up and ride for Heaven’s brand. Now that the story is rolling, though, it’s a pleasure to write. I just show up in Stone Creek, Arizona Territory, 1907, using my magical time-travel machine, and Sarah and Wyatt are always waiting for me. Sometimes impatiently. If Wyatt carried a watch, he’d take it out of his vest pocket, frown at it, and say, “We’re burnin’ daylight, here!” Sarah is only slightly more patient, and might fuss, “What took you so long?”
Upon my arrival, they show me what’s happening that day. I get right into it. In fact, when it’s time to take the dogs out or enjoy a coffee break, I’m usually surprised to find myself at my keyboard, in my 21st century Spokane home!
It must be hard work, because I’m really tired when quittin’ time comes, but while I’m actually writing, it’s like being in the story with all the characters. Walking the streets of Stone Creek. Counting the horses in front of saloons…
I’d better go. The time machine, my own version of Platform 9 and 3/4, leaves in approximately one hour.
