WWA Forevermore

 by Charlotte Hinger

My trip to the Western Writers of America convention got off to a rocky start this year. I intended to take off for Kansas Monday, stay in Nicodemus with my friend Angela Bates that night and we would leave for Tulsa Tuesday morning. But Sunday evening I gashed my leg on an open bottom dresser drawer and ended up going to ER for stitches. 

Between a dramatic rise in blood sugar and blood pressure due to the trauma, I wasn't fit to drive the next day and we ended up leaving a day later. 

So much of the pleasure I take in this event is visiting with old friends. There are three of us members who attended the Santa Fe convention in 1982: Loren Estleman, Preston Lewis, and myself. That's a long time to be devoted to an organization. 

This year I had the pleasure of seeing Dr. Quintard Taylor receive the cherished Wister Award. It's given to an individual who has made a signicant contribution to the literature of the West over their lifetime. Not only has Dr. Taylor written an avalance of books and articles about the West, he also founded a website, BlackPast.org with an amazing 10,000 pages created by over 1,000 academics and independent researchers. It's an amazing resource! 

Dr. Quintard Taylor

No session is complete without our wonderful Roundup editor, Johnny D. Boggs

This is nearly the only time I dress Western

And here's Angela:

The Downside

 Last Wednesday I received an email from Candy Moulton, the executive secretary of Western Writers of Ameria. She said a number of convention attendees were testing positive for Covid. I took a home test immediately and was positive. I immediately ran out and got a PCR test. Yes, I definitely had Covid. 

Boy, you talk about a downside to a convention! I have eluded this bug for two years and then blew it in a very short time. Luckily, my internist ordered an infusion of monoclonal antibodies. I live in Fort Collins and it was over an hour's drive to the infusion center in Broomfield. No one could drive me. I had to do it myself because of the risk of infecting someone else. There simply aren't that many Covid infusion centers available. I was able to make this drive. Good thing, because I felt worse the day after. I don't know if the disease was worse, or the infusion caused more symptoms. 

I've had a low-grade fever and have not wanted to get off the sofa. It could be a lot worse and probably would have been if it weren't for the infusion. 

What a messed up time we are in right now. At WWA I heard multiple complaints about air travel. There were cancelled flights, missing luggage, delayed luggage, and missed connections for this or that reason. 

Our hotel was chronically understaffed. But that is another story altogether. 

My short story "The Book Mama" is a finalist for the Will Rogers Medallion for short fiction. The ceremony is the last of October in Fort Worth. It's a really long drive. Plane tickets are quite reasonable. 

But if I book a flight, will I miss it altogether? Shall I take the risk? Will the airlines get sorted out by then? 

Last night there was a segment on PBS that offered a partial explanation for the royal mess at airports. Apparently when Covid first hit, the airlines laid off a lot of pilots because so many people stopped flying. Also, a number voluntarily took early retirement passengers. Now there aren't enough available and airlines overbook. It isn't working. But alas, training pilots takes a while. 

The last thing I want airlines to do is shortchange pilot training. 

I'll live with the uncertainty. 

Good news!

This week I received the happy news that my historical novel, The Healer's Daughter, is a finalist for the High Plains Book Award. I'm absolutely thrilled. And astonished!

I realized, too, that I'm so used to hearing bad or disheartening information that my expectations have become grey. That's too bad because lovely things are happening all around us. I'm amazed at how many organizations have pulled themselves together and soldiered right on via Zoom and other media offerings.

It's not the same. I've decided not to go to the annual convention of Western Writers of America this year. It breaks my heart because Johnny D. Boggs will receive the Wister Award. Johnny is a wonderful writer and I can't think of anyone else who has contributed so much to this organization. I would love to be there when he receives the Wister.

I find that Fort Collins, especially Larimer County, is very conscious of the dangers of COVID. Here, and next door in Weld County, we've been hard hit. I pretty much fall in line with our governor's Safer At Home instructions.

Normally, I would be anticipating attending the High Plains Award ceremony in Billings, Montana this September. I would be fussing around over clothes. My shoes, my hair. Everything having to do with grooming. My heart would be in my throat as the chairman announced the winners. But as with Mystery Writers of America and nearly all organizations, the awards ceremony will be virtual this year.

Isn't it wonderful that we've found a way to work around this limitation? A couple of weeks ago, the Rocky Mountain chapter of Mystery Writers of America had another outstanding program, via Zoom. I've missed our local Sisters in Crime meetings due to conflicts, but the group hasn't cancelled a single meeting.

I realize substituting media for personal interaction is not as satisfying, but it's keeping things together. I've had four events cancel. Then yesterday I realized that I could be copying some the techniques used by the major publishers. I could contact the persons and arrange for a presentation via Zoom. It wouldn't be the same as being able to sell and autograph books, but I could let them know how much I appreciate their support.

Who knows? By the time we develop a vaccine and work our way through the COVID crisis, we may discover new promotional techniques for our books.

Hang in there!

Unofficial Start

 

 

I had to explain my Christmas gifts to my three daughters. No one, and I mean no one, understands what a bed jacket is anymore. But they were pleased to see Mommy dust off the sewing machine. Thankfully, they understand reading in bed. In fact, they understand reading anywhere and everywhere.

 

Our family gives a lot of books for Christmas. I will admit I've started haunting book sales early in the year because it's gotten really expensive. They've added spouses or significant others. All of my grandchildren are readers, too.

 

It's the New Year and I'm off to a sluggish start. I've always loved this time of year and some of the changes I make have been lasting. This year I'm going to move away from involvement with community and church activities and focus on what I need to be doing with my writing. I faced up to the fact that the committees, volunteer work, etc. was due to a rather undesirable component of my personality: vanity! I believed that it was really important that I stick with a group. They needed me, really really needed me. It's so not true.

 

It's a brand new year all around. I have a new agent: Claudia Cross. Harold Ober Associates was purchased by Folio Literary Management and my previous agent, Phyllis Westberg, retired. Poisoned Pen Press has been sold to Sourcebooks. I'm finishing a new mystery and a new historical novel.

 

My biggest challenge in 2020 will be sorting through years of paperwork. I have letters from writers that belong in university archives. There's a treasured letter from Cormac McCarthy thanking WWA for the Spur award. I was chairman that year, so it came to me. My husband and Don Worcester were great friends and I'm sure the University of Texas would love to have Worcester's hand written letters.

 

There's no reason to save old insurance policies and detritus. At the beginning of 2020 I hope to be able to report that my files are clean and I have a clear conscience.

 

Happy New Year and good fortune to writers everywhere.