Wednesday, October 14, 2015

More on the game warden memoir I'm ghosting. It may sound uninteresting, translating taped memories into a suitable literary form, but  consider this passage:

About that time we heard a lot of commotion behind us, and I heard the action snap shut on some kind of rifle. I turned around, and there were Clarence Tahkeal and quite a few other Native Americans approaching us. He walked right up to me, with the other agents in back of me, and promptly hit me right in the chin with the muzzle of his rifle. Quite hard; it didn’t quite knock me down, but it was really hard.
            He announced that he was going to blow my head off.

Keep posted--I've resolved to continue this blog more faithfully.