Chicken Ranch report no. 17

Over the weekend I completed chapter 7, which is a good news/bad news situation. The good news is that I am finally done with that ornery piece of writing. The bad news is that it took a week longer to complete than I wanted. Coupled with the previous chapter running a week over its allotted time, and it's pretty clear I'm off my pace. To hit my June 1 goal of completing the entire first draft, I've got to knuckle down and write three chapters per month for April and May. This is daunting, since I've yet to manage more than two per month.

Still, I'm encouraged by chapter 8 getting off to a fast start--even if it was a false one. Not to get into a bunch of arbitrary and complex details, but I wrote the following section for chapter 8, then almost the instant I finished, realized I couldn't use it in the book. Which is a bit of a shame, since it was fun to write. Rather than just hit delete, I figured I'd share it with you good readers, much as I had the excised Monument Hill material from chapter 1:

Sheriff Jim Flournoy stood up from behind his desk as the posse of minister filed into his office. Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian... five all together, he counted.

“Howdy Reverends,” he greeted them in his slow drawl. “What can I do for y’all today?”

“Meaning no disrespect, Sheriff,” one said, “but you’ve been in office a full month now, and have not lifted one finger to rid our community of that den of vice. Frankly, we are all disappointed in you.”

“That Chicken Farm is a corrupting influence,” another spoke up. “They peddle lust in a most shameless way. They pollute the morals of our citizens. You gotta do something!”

Big Jim nodded thoughtfully, taking a deep puff from his cigarette before stubbing it out in the overflowing ash tray on his desk. “I confess this vice situation’s weighed on my mind something powerful,” he said slowly. “And Reverends, I do believe y’all are right. From now on, I’m gonna start enforcing our vice laws in this county.”

Startled, the ministers began clapping and congratulating the sheriff all at once, before Big Jim broke in.

“All of them vice laws. Especially gambling. I instructed Deputy Prilop just this morning to start writing up a list of all the illegal bingo parlors and raffles, so we can shut ‘em all down,” Big Jim said calmly, lighting up another cigarette. “When I’m through with Fayette County, ain’t no place in Texas gonna have a cleaner--”

The first minister cleared his throat, interrupting the sheriff and breaking the awkward silence that’d fallen over his group. The other ministers stared at the sheriff with equal parts panic and horror.

“Sheriff,” the minister began awkwardly, “we would counsel you not to act, uh, too hastily. La Grange has always been a tolerant, live-and-let-live community, and if you get right down to it, those ladies out a Miss Jessie’s don’t really cause any trouble...”

In other news, I submitted an abstract and C.V. for a paper presentation at the East Texas Historical Association's fall conference in Nacogdoches. It's not a done deal, but my chances of getting in are pretty good. I've also spent a good bit of time this past week in discussions with Theatre Under the Stars in Houston about some possible speaking events. They're putting on a big production of The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas this June, and while there's nothing definite, we're tossing some ideas back and forth that could turn out to be pretty cool indeed. I'll be sure to let everyone know as soon as I have something definite.

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