Writers write.  That’s what I do day in and day out. I write when a book is working. I write when a book is not working. And since this blog is about my life, it is, ipso facto, often a blog about writing.

Those of you who follow this column on a weekly basis already know that I’ve been struggling with a Book With No Name. I’m happy to report that the baby does have a name now. The novella featuring Beaumont solo is called Stand Down and the joint Walker/Beaumont book, in which Beau plays an important but lesser part than I expected, is now called Dance of the Bones.

In the world of writing there are generally two warring tribes—the outliners and the non-outliners.  I am one of the latter. If I were an outliner, perhaps I would have been able to force J.P. to cooperate more in this one, but I couldn’t, and that’s the way the cookie crumbles. I also suspect that if I were an outliner, some of the magic that happens in the course of writing a book wouldn’t be there, either. In the early chapters of DOTB, I spend time introducing someone I thought would be nothing more than a bit player in the book. I believed that to be true all along, right up until I got to the end of the book when I discovered he wasn’t a bit player at all.

It’s sunny in Tucson today.  The Rodeo Parade is in full swing on South Sixth. I won’t be going. I’ll be sitting here in my chair, working on the last chapter of DOTB, tying up all those pesky loose ends. (I know from my e-mail writing fans that they do not like loose untied loose ends.

The banana peel came late to this book, but it did come. Finally.

As a consequence today’s blog entry will be, as they say, short but brief  I have to finish DOTB because I hear the sounds of an upcoming book tour rumbling on the horizon.

Writing on tour is something that CAN be done, but it is NOT recommended.