The following extract is taken from my writing guide Write a
Western in 30 Days
(pp135/136).
As many a reviewer has pointed out, the guide can be applicable to
any genre in most instances.
So, from time to time, try to acknowledge the
presence of mother Nature in your fiction.
Saguaro cactus, Arizona - Wikipedia commons
Flora and fauna
A western novel isn’t just about the characters – it’s about
the land. A land that is rich in variety. Indeed, in some westerns the land can
almost become a ‘character’. It certainly provides conflict.
So, don’t neglect the flora and
fauna. Of course, since you’ve set a time period for your western – say, July
1879 – then you can research for plants that flower in July. If you stick to a
vague time period, you’re hampered and are liable to mix and match and maybe
get nature’s calendar cockeyed.
He (Corbin) ducked under the lintel,
shut the door behind him and breathed in the fresh night air.
Crickets
chirruped, invisible and insistent, and thousands of stars winked in the black
sky. Over to the right an array of cactus plants resembled men approaching in
surrender, arms held high.
Fortunately,
the wind was to the west so he didn’t get the smell from the stables. He chided
himself for being uncharitable; maybe they didn’t muck out as often as they
should, but these station masters did very well by their horses. Resting and
feeding them and being ready at a moment’s notice to replace an unexpected
team. What must it have been like when this territory was still prey to raids
by warriors on the warpath? Lonely and very isolated, even if the next station
was only about ten miles off. Stagecoaches pulling in, pierced by arrows and
more resembling porcupines than modes of transport; and then those stages that
had never arrived, their carcasses littering the prairie. He withdrew his hat,
transferred it to his double hook and wiped the inner brim with the heel of his
right hand. (The $300 Man, Ross Morton, pp 67/68)
Nothing unusual, maybe, just crickets, stars
and cactus, but hopefully it conveys the vastness of the prairie and the
stillness – just before a provoking incident occurs.
In another western, I injected some
natural imagery:
As their journey progressed
through tall grasses interspersed with blue-white beardtongue, he found that he
was again deeply stirred by her. She rode easy in the saddle and was a
competent horsewoman. She was really knowledgeable about nature too, pointing
out where he was likely to catch bobwhite quail and ring-necked pheasant. Her
enthusiasm was infectious. ‘You should be here in the Spring,’ she told him.
‘The meadows east of the town are a purple blaze of Pasqueflower.’ (Death at Bethesda Falls, Ross Morton, pp99/100)
The woman is a schoolteacher and
keen about geography, and enthuses her young students. This scene is the calm
before a fresh onslaught threatens their lives and binds the pair closer.
***
