I'd call it Painted Boots inspiration: Chapter Three

Recognize this?  It's an outside view of the high school used in High School Musical.

From Painted Boots:  "I tell myself this moment is ordinary, though I'm filling with fireflies."

Remember the way first meetings felt in high school?  The nervous, sweaty happiness that seemed to come from nowhere?  The cool thing about that feeling is how the ability to feel it never goes away.  No matter how old you are, it seems you're capable of spring-chicken-love.

It's a fragile feeling, though, and easily deflated.  In chapter three Aspen steps onto the new-love roller coaster and her ride begins: up, down and all around.

I'd call it: Painted Boots Inspiration, Chapter Two

the cheap thrill of vintage shopping

"The band and the tee aren't the same shade of yellow, but that's not the point."

In chapter two our lovely heroine, Aspen, suffers not only a lunch crowd of strangers but an unexpected revelation about her clothing--and drama results.


My grandmother's stories of growing up in rural Wyoming were laced with her unique brand of strength, contained emotion and drama.  Aspen's stoicism, and her dramatic flair, grew from my memories of these stories.  Years later, after researching the truth of my grandmother's world, I came to accept that her stories were larger than her life: the stories were scarier, meaner, happier, lonelier or more about her than the event really was.  I didn't fault her for it, though.  I think we all do that with our stories, in our own way. 

I'd call it: Painted Boots Inspiration, Chapter One

The journey begins . . . .

"I hope all they see, from the outside looking in, is a girl who'll fit in with this place."

Aspen Brand's journey begins on the first day of her senior year of high school .... in a new state, a new town, a new school .... alone.  On this first day, Aspen's isolation keeps her outside herself, as though she were just another stranger, looking in.

Chapter one is taken, almost verbatim, from the first day of my senior year of high school.  My parents had moved to a small community, and I spent the summer prior to school starting feeling lonely.  So I built a fabulous wardrobe--the largest I've ever had.  I combed sales, thrift stores and fabric stores; I sewed and altered.  And I started school with enough new clothing to wear something different, every day, for the first month of class.

I didn't realize it on that first day of school, or for a long time afterward, but my clothes not only told everyone around me I was different.  It told them I was okay with being different. 

I'd call it: Fantasy Canyon II

outside Dinosaur National Monument

Fantasy Canyon is small ... more like an acre of ten-foot sand-sculpture left behind by a bunch of kids. (Though rattle snakes love to hang in the endless cubby-holes.) 

And the ride to get there was apocalyptic--a journey through oil fields and amazingly barren range land.  We saw sheep herders, sheep and enough roadkill to outfit a small ranch.  Dead cows?  Dead horses?  Really?  In Utah?  The whole thing was an exercise in suspending belief!

I'd call it: Goodreads Giveaway

The paperback version of Painted Boots will be available in August.  Enter now for a chance to win a free copy on my Goodreads giveaway ... the entry button is below! 

I'd call it: Ooo-Ahh Moments

A weathered peak near Shoshone National Park that gave me an 'ooo-ahhh- moment

 From Painted Boots:

     We're miles from Gillette, climbing into worn old hills.  The boulders along the trail wear tall caps of snow.  Snow frosts the trees; it swirls like glitter from the horses' hooves.  We round a bend and there, in the distance, dark purple atop eastern Wyoming's rolling plain, is Devil's Tower.  I jerk the reins, bringing Rox to a sudden stop.  "It's the tower!" I shout.  I don't believe it.
     "Well, yeah," Kyle answers.


We all live near things we take for granted; things we've seen all our lives but that because of a life-time of familiarity,don't seem extraordinary to us.  Yet seeing something out of the ordinary for the first time always amazes me.  So when I wrote the scene in Painted Boots where Aspen sees Devil's Tower for the very first time, I wanted her amazement to come face-to-face with Kyle's eighteen years of seeing the tower almost every day.  For his part, "Well, yeah," seemed the perfect response!

I'd call it: Musically Designed

my daughter playing the guitar

From Painted Boots:

     Now you're lovin' me
     You're all that I see
     You've taken my soul and heart
     upon your shoulders


In my story Painted Boots, both Aspen and Kyle play acoustic guitar . . . though Kyle's better at it.  He writes his own songs, most of which are love songs about Aspen.  I totally enjoyed writing his lyrics, and though I've never thought to write the words of a song before, I found that once I had the feeling of the song in mind, the words came naturally. 

I'd call it: Book Trailer Success. At last!

From the Painted Boots book trailer

I've spent the past two months making, and remaking, the book trailer for Painted Boots.  I love stop-motion animation and thought to make the trailer in that medium.  But everything I tried seemed too contrived and complicated in comparison to the story.

We own property on the Idaho-Wyoming border, and every summer we leave city life behind and live rural.  While driving, I passed the time thinking about my book trailer and how, so far, it was a huge fail.  I wanted to capture the feeling of rural-ness.  It is, after all, a story about a city girl who moves to a rural town and decides she'll fight to win her guy and fit in.

As we drove down the road leading to our property I looked out over the hundreds of aspen trees that wood the area and I had an idea . . . one I loved.  I asked my husband to point out the trees he planned to cut down (we have to take out dead trees every summer).  And the Painted Boots book trailer was born!

Baking is a lot like Biology

From Painted Boots:

     I want today to be perfect.  So by the time Dad wanders downstairs I'm peeling apples, juicing oranges and lemon and mixing melted butter with cinnamon and sugar, oatmeal and flour.
     "You go now," Dad says, heading for the coffee.
     But I don't go.  I lean against the counter, ignoring the dull throb in my side, reading the recipe aloud as Dad finishes the two cobblers I started.  Turns out, baking is a lot like my biology lab work.  Just follow the directions.

I grew up in a family of cooks.  My grandmother taught home-economics in middle school, back in the days when girls were socialized to cook and clean, sew and raise kids.  I still miss her yummy banana cream pies on Thanksgiving and her rich potato salad on the Fourth of July.  But the funny thing was, my grandmother didn't like to cook--even though she was awesome in the kitchen.

In Painted Boots, Aspen struggles with her inability to step into her mother's shoes.  Maybe all girls face this, in their own way.  I know I did! 

I'd call it: Private Junkyards

Note the personality . . .

From Painted Boots:

     "Great truck," I say.
     "Thanks.  It was my granddad's."  Kyle runs his hand along the black-stitched leather of his steering wheel then tugs his finger through his hair.  "My dad and I restored it.  You likely noticed, but people around here don't give up on their vehicles."
    "Yeah.  Private junkyards are everywhere."

 In the rural west, private junkyards are everywhere.  It seems every farm has one.  In Painted Boots, both Aspen and Kyle recycle things: Aspen buys her clothes at second-hand stores.  Kyle drives a restored 1950s truck.  But throughout the book they both come up against their inner, private junkyards--the things they can't get past.  I love this element of the story, and drew it from my grandmother's life.  She had a lot of private junkyards.  Though she never overcame many of them, her inner battles were the foundation for the many stories she told me when I was young.

I'd call it: The Druid Tree

Tree carving

I love trees, and when I came across this one while trail-riding in Wyoming I had to stare at it for a while before snapping the photo.

This particular ranch had a number of trees carved with ancient faces.  Though it was mid-day, it was always a bit eerie to round a bend only to be greeted by a druid-face, carved in relief and six feet in height.

Our guide suggested the carvings don't hurt the trees, but I don't know.  The trees looked a bit sorry to me!

I'd call it: On the Trail

Riding the open range.

Here we have the business end of a horse . . . which is what you get when you trail-ride with a group.  Unless you lead.  That's my daughter in the green shirt--she's on a gorgeous horse named Buck.  You can see my horse's brown ears in the pic--just barely.  His name's Doc, and he has arthritic knees, so he was a mellow ride.  Though he did try to brush me off his back every time we neared a fence.  And whenever a lush green clump of grass appeared, he'd stop for a snack.

These are open-pasture horses, used to grazing in meadows and such, and Doc couldn't bear to walk by grass without a nibble.  Our guide would yell at me:  "Don't let Doc eat on the ride!" but I couldn't help it.  If I had to trudge around with people on my back all day long, the least they could allow me is a measly snack.  So every chance I got I let him sneak a bite. 

I'd call it: Arches, Jackson style

Elk Horn Arch, Jackson Hole

If you've ever been to Jackson, Wyoming, you'll recognize one of the four famous elk horn arches that lead into the town's central park.  During the holidays they're lighted with millions of little white twinkle lights.

In my story Painted Boots, Aspen's father drives from Portland, Oregon to Gillette, Wyoming, taking the scenic route through the west entrance of Yellowstone.  He drives through the park, out the east entrance, and down along the Tetons and into Jackson.

It's a drive I've done myself--more than once--and it's fabulous.  In the park I've seen black bear and grizzly (a totally scary sight).  I've been stuck for an hour in a 'buffalo crossing' (those things are HUGE, especially the bulls).  I've seen heron, deer, elk, beaver, raccoon, endless squirrels, marmots, moose and lots of other things.  And let's not forget the famed hot pots and old Faithful.

Nature is a fabulous detour, and one I take as often as I can.  It clears the soul and makes my perspective fresh again.  After a day of walking in the woods or along a beach I feel anything is possible!  No wonder I get away as often as I can . . . . 

I'd call it: Whoo-hoo Day

And those don't come around all that often!

Today I received my paperback proof of my book.  Exhilarating!  Fabulous!  Daunting!  Now to go through it page by page and find all the little things that need tweaking before I can sign off on the thing.  But still !!!

It's a thrill to have that first hard copy in your hands.

Mr. Teal

Tonight I thought I'd share another of the quirky things I collect: dinosaur photos.  This fine beast is one of my favorites.  He's a rugged little thing, standing about twelve feet tall and forever frozen by the side of the road as you head toward Dinosaur National Monument.  I seriously love him!

We visited the the Monument a few months back.  Everyone had a great time and we learned that Dinosaur Land is a Really Funky Place.  There's so much there.  Who knew?

Weirdest was a silly-sand place called Fantasy Canyon.  It's in the middle of nowhere defined.  I mean, we drove past two horses, lying dead by the side of the road, as we traveled to get there.  I thought we'd headed out of Vernal and straight into the apocalypse.  Check it out, if you ever get the chance.  It's bizarre.  But beware the rattlesnakes . . . .

I'd call it: Ride on, little doggie

Riding in Wyoming

I'm going through a serious cowboy phase.  Call it a second childhood.  Or an obsession.  Whatever.  All I know is that though Painted Boots is finished, I'm just not ready to leave Wyoming.  It's a compelling place: rugged, beautiful--the place where my great-grandfather carved out a ranch, the place that haunted my grandmother for a lifetime.  So it makes sense, at least to me, that my next story is set in Wyoming.  I can't help myself!  I haven't worked Wyoming out of my system.  And beyond that, I'll tell ya.  It's a great place to set a romance.

I'd call it: Favorite Lines

Tonight I'm thinking of a few of my favorite lines--from movies, mostly.  I started this romp down memory lane because as I was fixing dinner, one of my favorite lines from Painted Boots just popped into my head. 

It's from the moment when Aspen is itching with anticipation but at the same time chilling with dread over how her first date with Kyle will goes.  She narrates at the beginning of chapter ten:


BY SATURDAY NIGHT I’m an emotional wreck.  I’ve had weeks to wonder why Kyle has ignored me, weeks to wish for my mother’s comfort and five days more to decide this evening will end like a dystopian novel.

Call me cruel, but I laugh every time I think of her comparing her date to a dystopian novel  ...  maybe because so many of my first dates were awkward little train wrecks!