I started writing a new book, this week. It’s a horror/western set in the 1950s, takes place in Oregon’s southeast desert region. The title is Grind Your Bones To Dust.
The story definitely features a quartet of man-eating donkeys. Not for laughs, mind you. I’m playing it straight as an arrow.
I don’t know when this book will be out, exactly, but I am guessing it’ll hit sometime in 2019. That’s if all things go as planned, of course. And life just wouldn’t be its mystical and magical self if it didn’t occasionally send best-laid plans arse over elbows. Suppose we’ll see what happens and when.
In the meantime, I’ll keep working on telling the tale. The rest can only follow. Hopefully, I’ll have a pretty clean draft of this before Christmas rolls around.
Been reading a lot of Joe R. Lansdale, Cormac McCarthy, and Larry McMurtry. Swimming in Westerns, over here. Well, that and books about donkeys. Writing can be a curious endeavor, at times.
Never dreamed I’d be reading so goddamned much about donkeys and dust.