Writers have to look the part. That’s a problem for me. As a comedy writer, what do I do, dress like Rob Petrie? I can’t do Red Skelton’s hair, or Jack Benny’s horn-rimmed glasses.
When my daughter took me horseback riding at the ranch she worked on, I stopped for this photo op. By the looks of things, I’m on my 18th western novel by now. I think the title is “Shootout at the Starbucks.”
The opening line in the book goes like this:
“Forget about paying for the coffee for the chump behind you. Bart Slackline was here for his morning brew, and all of these coyotes surrounding him just made it that much harder. He was ready to horsewhip the barista when suddenly …”
Maybe westerns are easier to write than comedy, after all.
It’s just that during the photo shoot I shouldn’t have squatted with my spurs on.
