Last night, in my final journal post for Southern Investigation-Tucson, I said that I was going to start on Southern Investigation-Yancy when I finished proofing Tucson. Well, a couple of things happened today that changed my plans. First, I entered an agreement with Russell Blake’s magical proof reader so I won’t be proofing Southern Investigation-Tucson. That means I’m ready to write. Since Southern Investigation-Yancy is going to about spousal abuse, and I’m a whole lot of research short of being ready to write that, I began to poke around for another idea.
Literally, I poked around, and in the process I found a worn manila folder labeled, The Last Call. Over twenty years ago, I thought it would be a novel, but after I hammered out the first fifty or sixty pages, I knew the objective, but I didn’t know how to get there. Well, now I know, so I’m going to finish it.
Here’s the passage that I stumbled on that convinced me that it’s time to finish The Last Call.
The big Harley rolled out of Albuquerque as the last pink wisp of sunset gave up to darkness. As the motorcycle turned on to the emptiness of Highway 50, its speed began to increase, finally leveling at eighty miles an hour as man and machine became one.
The man, Miller Hamilton, was tall and thin, with deep brown, almost black eyes, and thick black hair, bound in a ponytail that reached the middle of his back.
Most would have guessed his age at thirty. A few might have said forty. No one would have guessed seventy-one, his true age.
When I wrote that, I was 45, maybe 46 years old. Next month, I’ll be 70. Now that I understand Miller Hamilton, I’m ready to finish his story.
Tonight I’ll finish rewriting and transcribing the first chapter from the old dot matrix pages I found today. Since I’m beginning this project at page one, I think I’ll post the work on an old web site, as it progresses. If you’d like to read it, let me know and I’ll email you the URL.