Happy to announce I recently won the Winter 2015 Essay Contest sponsored by The Center for Successful Aging in Santa Barbara, CA. The question was what artistic work (book, movie, song, painting etc.) impacted me the most. The Judges also let me tag the piece with my mug shot and a picture of the cover of my latest novel, Cattle Drive. Here's what I wrote:
To
pick a movie, book, or painting that impacted me the most in my long life is
not easy. However, something does come to mind that has had a strong influence
on my life.
When
I was a Depression-era kid growing up in Ojai, California, there was no greater
joy than scraping together (finding or begging) 12 cents to attend the Ojai
Theatre and watch a great B-Western movie. Five cents more and I could buy
enough penny candy from the Ojai Sweet Shop to get my sticky hands and smiling
face through the newsreel, cartoon, previews, B-Western, and the main feature.
It
was really the Western I wanted to see. Why?
Because
I loved the action and never had trouble separating the good guys from the bad,
and always knew that justice and goodwill would triumph by the end of the
movie. The outlaws might win for a time, from robbing banks, rustling cattle,
or holding the wealthy ranch owner’s lovely daughter for ransom, but by the end
of the third reel the cowboys with the white hats would win, capture the
outlaws, return the cattle, and save the beautiful young damsel from a terrible
fate.
Those
movies were like morality plays.
I
still believe that justice will prevail and “we’ll head ‘em off at the pass.”
However, at my age and with my life experiences I know justice may stumble and
fall before it gets up and staggers across the finish line. Good that
eventually comes out of evil seems now to take much longer than I remember as a
kid.
Movies
and morals have changed, or haven’t you noticed? And it doesn’t make me happy.
In today’s movies, the good guy, or gal, doesn’t always win. Sometimes it’s the
bad guys, from horse thieves to gangsters and crooked politicians.
Those
old B-Westerns still influence my life at age 82, because I continue to believe
that eventually good people will win. Those black-and-white action westerns,
from Hopalong Cassidy and John Wayne to Roy Rogers and Gene Autry, influenced
me to the point that I’m now a published author of western yarns and books.
And, because I write them, I can twist the story to make sure the good guys
always win.
And
something else that was good about those old times and movies: the popcorn,
candy bars, and soft drinks cost only 5 cents.
###
Thanks to author and friend Joyce Oroz for posting such nice words and comments on her blog about my writing. Much appreciated.
I am so proud of my friend, Author Jim Williams--actually he goes by "Big Jim Williams" and the crook in my neck should tell you why. He's a bigger than life kinda guy with a powerful voice, and the published author of wonderful western stories and books. Look him up on Amazon! You'll feel the hard saddle, smell the sweaty horse and breath prairie dust when you open one of his books.
Here is an article Jim wrote for : Center For Successful Aging in Santa Barbara: published in the Winter 2015 issue available at www.csasb.org
Check out Joyce's wonderful books, including SECURE THE RANCH, BEETLES IN THE BOXCAR, CUCKOO CLOCK CAPERS, and others online and on her blog at:
http://authorjoyceoroz.blogspot.com/
Big Jim
Williams' latest books are...
CATTLE
DRIVE, about a desperate 1873 cattle drive in the heat of summer, now available
from Amazon, Barns & Noble, and many other online book sources in print and
as e-books. Chapters of my on-going series, JAKE SILVERHORN'S REVENGE, set in
Arizona following the U. S. Civil War, are also available.
Also have
yarns and stories in the new print and e-book anthologies, THE KILLER WORE
CHANBERRY: A FOURTH MEAL OF MAYHEM (Untreed Read), BROKEN PROMISES (La Frontera
Press), and, IN VINO VERITAS (Thirteen Press) printed in the United Kingdom.
Hope you
give them a read. I welcome all comments at my email address:
bigjimwilliams2@cox.net
###
“Abraham Lincoln
Likes my ‘Cattle Drive’ Book”
By Big Jim Williams
I
spoke with Abraham Lincoln the other night,” I said.
“You
did what?” asked my friend. Dan.
“I
exchanged words with the Great Emancipator,” I repeated.
“But
Abraham Lincoln’s been dead a hundred and fifty years.”
“I
thought so, too, but that didn’t stop him from swapping words about politics,
books, and how the Dodgers are doing?”
“The
Dodgers? The baseball team?”
“Abe’s
a big fan. Watches all the games”
My
friend cleared his throat and smiled at me like a straightjacket salesman
measuring a new client.
“The
great Civil War president,” I continued, “came right into my dream.”
“Ah,
now I understand,” said Dan. “So you admit you were dreaming.”
“Of
course. But things were just as real as when John Wayne rode a horse into my
bedroom last week when I was dancing with Marilyn Monroe. Pooped on the floor,
too.”
“The
horse, John Wayne, or--”
“The
horse of course,” I interrupted. “A man can always use another scoop or two of
fertilizer for his garden.”
“Jim,
those are sure mighty strange dream you’re having,” said Dan. “But all you
writers are weird or you wouldn’t be writers.”
“The
real nice part about my dream,” I continued, “is that Honest Abe, the Old Rail
Splitter, said he’s been reading my new western novel, Cattle Drive, and liked
it. Said it was some of the most exciting words he’d read since writing the
Emancipation Proclamation.”
“You’re
kidding?”
“Nope,
I wouldn’t lie about something that important. Abraham Lincoln sure made my
day, or should I say night. Said he also
loved my new series, Jake Silverhorn’s Revenge, and would be delighted to write
a supportive blurb on the back of my Cattle Drive book if I wanted one.”
“An
endorsement by Abraham Lincoln!” exclaimed Dan. “That’s unbelievable.”
“That
should help sell a few copies,” said I.
“So,
what did our sixteenth President write on the book jacket?”
“He
wrote, ‘Cattle Drive by Big Jim Williams is a great book about the Old West. I
couldn’t put it down. It’s a page turner full of cattle stampedes,
double-dealing gamblers, wild women, friendships, broken promises, and more
gunplay than a night out in Ford’s Theatre.’”
“Wow!
President Abraham Lincoln actually wrote that?”
“Yep.”
“But
I still find your dreams hard to believe?” questioned Dan.
“Now,”
I said, “all I need to do is get book endorsements from John Wayne and Marilyn
Monroe.”
###
“Why I Hate
Telemarketers”
By Big Jim Williams
I
hate telemarketers!
Who
doesn’t?
They’re
about as popular as teenage acne on prom night.
Telemarketers
constantly interrupt my writing when I’m about to create a line that will make
my novel an overnight classic, such as, “Heathcliff pressed his feverish lips
to—-“
Then the phone rings. I pick it up and hear a recorded voice say, “Your
credit cards are--”
Click!
I hang up.
I’m
on a “do not call” list. But it doesn’t matter. I also get telemarketing calls
on my cell phone. Won’t these pests ever leave me alone?
I
return to my computer. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, I was writing about
Healthcliff as he was about to “...press his feverish lips to...”
Ring! Ring!
Another
interruption.
“Hello,”
I answer, still trying to be polite.
“This
is not a sales call...” lies the recorded disembodied phone voice.
Click! I curse and hang up as my rage builds.
Back
again to Heathcliff’s feverish lips.
But
it always takes several minutes to remember what I was writing and where I
wanted to take the storyline of my great American novel, which, I believe, will
sell millions if I add lots of steamy sex.
Ring!
Ring!
Oh,
God, not again.
Poor
Heathcliff is never gonna kiss anyone.
I
pick up the phone, and shout, “Hello, Hello.” No one is there. The line is as
dead as a week-old glass of beer. Probably just another telemarketer who dialed
and then decided to take his coffee break.
Sometimes,
when receiving telemarketing calls, I think I hear voices in the back ground,
voices I believe are plotting to call again as soon as Heathcliff puckers his
lips, which, probably by now, are forever puckered in place and chapped.
Then:
Ring!
Ring!
I answer and hear, “You’re now
eligible to receive at no cost a free personal medical alert system--“
Click.
Then minutes later.
Ring!
Ring!
“Don’t hang up, this is not a sales
call,” claimed another recorded voice.
I
hang up.
A
friend patiently listens through a telemarketer’s long spiel and then asks to
speak to the supervisor. When the head honcho comes to the phone—-thinking he’s
going to make a big sale—-my friend releases every expletive known to mankind,
including new one’s he plans to copyright.
The
calls never stop, especially during ones nap time, dinner, or when watching a
favorite TV show.
All
telemarketers should be gagged and tied to railroad tracks. However, my idea of
hell for telemarketers would be to chain them to a bank of telephones that
would ring only whenever they tried to sleep.
I
know I can get a bunch of telemarketing-hating volunteers to call them 24/7, an
endless string of sleep-interrupting loud phone calls continuing through all
eternity.
They
don’t call me “Mr. Nice Guy” for nothing.
But
what about Heathcliff? I return to my great American novel. He’s probably still
puckered up and looking for Chapstick to ease the pain of his sandpaper lips.
And did he ever get a chance to kiss the girl?
Ring!
Ring!
I’ll
answer those questions just as soon as I answer another call from a damned
telemarketer.
Hmm.
I think I’ll answer and put him on hold.
###
“I Collect Old
Computers”
By Big Jim Williams
I’m
a collector of old computers. Like old friends I find them hard to discard.
“Aren’t
you ever going to throw out that old Amstrad word processor you bought thirty
years ago?” asked my wife.
“That
keyboard and I spent a lot of hours together writing rejected manuscripts.”
“It’s
collecting dust in our bedroom closet.”
“Yeah,”
I challenged, “and I’ve got four more like ‘em in the garage.”
“Junk
‘em!” ordered my wife.
“I
don’t throw old things I love away,” I said, “including you. But one more word
and I may change my mind.”
The
British-made Amstrad--that only a computer museum director has ever heard
of--served me well. The additional four Amstrads, gifts from friends who
advanced to real computers, proves you can never have too many spare parts.
Just ask an orbiting astronaut with a broken toilet seat.
However,
while working in education as a publicist, I advanced from a manual typewriter
(I hate electric ones) to my first office computer, a Hewlett-Packard HP-150 in
the mid-1980s that used a touch screen and introduced the 3-1/2 inch floppy
disk drive to computers.
Most
people claim touch screens didn’t exit then. They did. A Google search of Old
Hewlett-Packard Computers will bring it up.
The
small screen’s frame was circled with a series of tiny holes. When I touched the
screen, it did what it was supposed to do: delete, highlight, spell check, or
cut and paste. This was looooooong before the iPAD.
My
HP was linked to a matrix printer that produced a sound like buzzing bees.
After
I left the job, I replaced my home Amstrad with a Compaq computer that still
lurks like a lost relative in the corner of my office, attached to an old, old
sea-anchor size Canon printer I refuse to toss because I’ve refilled the ink
cartridge more times than my car’s gasoline tank.
I
eventually advanced to a 20-inch Mac desktop computer with more toots and
whistles than a Mississippi paddlewheel. In recent years I’ve added a used Mac
laptop, and now have a touch-screen iPad that came with my birthday.
I’ve
failed to mention a strange little word processor laptop (it runs on three AAA
batteries) purchased several years ago. It’s called an AlphaSmart, comes with a
four-line screen, and hides in my car trunk. I often write with it while
waiting in doctors’ offices and, later at home, transfer text via cable to my
desktop.
If
all else fails, including a power outage, there’s always my old manual
typewriter wrapped in layers of plastic in my garage. And if I can’t find my
typewriter, there’s always pencil and paper.
A
three-day power outage did occur during my former job and I did use my manual
typewriter, the only one in all the many offices. I was clicking keys while
everyone else twiddled their thumbs.
The
point of all this:
When
it comes to writing, write on whatever you have, from a stone tablet or papyrus
to the latest PC, Mac, or tablet. Just write, that’s the important thing.
And
if all else fails, there’s always pencil and paper.
###
When I was a kid going to Saturday matinee movies in
California for 12 cents I loved watching westerns, weather it was Hoppy, Gene,
Roy or John Wayne heading the bad guys off at the pass. It wasn’t just the
action I enjoyed but it was the fact that any conflict between the rustlers and
the sheriff would end about two hours later with the good guys winning. I loved
that and believed it. That is what I now find missing in our society, and in
the movies and on television. The good guys don’t always win and the bad guys
often get the applause and are loved and honored. Not right. I still want the
good guys to win and that is one of the many reasons I love to write westerns,
because in my computer the good guys are going to win. They bring a bit of
sanity into the Old West where my mind wants to live. And maybe, just maybe, I
lived back there too as a mountain man, a wrangler pushing cattle of the
Chishom, or a man with a gun on his hip and badge on his chest. There is right
in this world, and I try to find it in my Western. I’m like a new
hand in the bunkhouse when it comes to writing my book CATTLE DRIVE for High Noon Press. I’ve also written Westerns for Western Horseman, The Livestock (Texas) Weekly, The
PokerRoomNews, RopeAndWire, and Frontier Tales. In CATTLE DRIVE I've tucked all the characters, action and tough guys into the pages. However, keep an eye on the good guys, because they just may win in between
all that action.
--Big Jim
“I’m now a member of an
organization of Western writers called, Western Fictioneers (WF).” It has
opened doors to new friends and wonderful publishing opportunities. Recent
publishing credits include: “Sarah’s Christmas Miracle,” in WF’s, Wolf
Creek: Book 10, O Deadly Night, and Chapter 1, in WF’s forthcoming, Wolf
Creek Book 12, The Dead of Winter.
Also accepted, “The Coat,” in the mid-2014 anthology, Broken Problems
(La Frontera Press), recent publishers of my, “The Bounty Hunters” story in
the, Dead or Alive book. “The Coat” is about two fleeing desperados who
fight over one coat to survive during a deadly frontier snowstorm.
Another credit is, “The Mashed Potato/Cranberry Thanksgiving Murder Case,” in
the Killer Wore Cranberry, Room for Thirds (Untreed Reads), featuring a
Police Detective named Sedgwick Segway, nicknamed “Scooter” by his fellow
officers. It was a fun piece to write.
All are available through Amazon.
*
* *
When I was
growing up in a small town in Southern California, reading didn’t come easy for
me. My mother helped teach me to read, using a method she had learned as a
child. “Now, Jimmie,” she said, “sound out the words.” That’s something I did
then and still do if I can’t pronounce something. With her help and that of
many wonderful teachers, especially my sixth grade teacher, Mrs. Herman, I
gradually learned to read and the wonderful world of books opened!
(bigjimwilliams2@cox.net)
--
