I remember thinking, a long time ago, that the private eyes of the 30s, 40s and 50s and the Dirty Harrys and Paul Herseys of the 70s - and all the hardboiled characters in the middle and since - all these guys are the descendants of the gunslingers who roamed the Old West. They traded their trusty steeds for muscle cars and their Walker Colts for Smith and Wesson .44 magnums, but deep down, they are the same guys.
So it makes sense I am now writing a Western. Deke Rivers, my country music songwriter turned detective, is taking a hard-earned hiatus (after two novels and a dozen short stories), and my new guy, Kyle Williams Lees, is riding into town with a gun on his hip, a chip on his shoulder and a score to settle.
I've been rewatching all the old films - lots of John Wayne and Clint Eastwood - and rereading all the old books - Grey, L'Amour, Shaeffer, Kelton, Boggs, Randisi - and I am having a blast.
I am interested to see how things turn out. I'll let you know. :-)
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