Stories Behind the Stories #1

Double Mountain

People have been telling me that I should write some of the true stories that are behind the story of my novel, Gilt Ridden, and other stories that inspire my writing. So, I’m writing a series of blog posts that I’ll call The Stories Behind the Stories.

This is the story of the first rattlesnake that I found in our house when we first moved to our Double Mountain ranch. I included it in some of the first drafts of the book, but later I omitted it and just referred to it in dialogue. People said I had too many rattlesnake scenes already.

We had moved to our ranch Easter weekend. The weather had been hot and dry, but a cold front brought much-needed rain and a drop in temperature. Unfortunately, rattlesnakes were looking for a warm place too.

My husband was off at work at his job in Sweetwater, a 45-minute drive away, and my son and I were playing on the floor of the playroom. We had been playing on the floor for probably a couple of hours and I decided to plug in the phone. (Yes, that was back in the days of phones in the home.) I was looking for the phone outlet and pivoted the couch away from the wall to get to it. I was shocked to find a curled-up rattlesnake. I looked at it for a couple of seconds because my mind didn’t want to register what I was seeing. It was happily asleep, no worries.

I picked up my son and placed him on his bed. He was three at the time. I told him to stay on the bed and I explained the situation. He wasn’t having it. He wanted to stay by my side.

I went back to the playroom to check on the snake. I think it was awake now and not happy with me, but it still not moving. At this time in my life I had seen many rattlesnakes. We had also lived on another West Texas ranch years before, but I had never killed one. My husband had always been around to do it. I tried calling him from the kitchen phone but his employer had not paid their phone bill so my husband’s business phone was not working.

I probably said a lot of cuss words, at least mentally. (Son was still stuck to my leg, not wanting to leave.)

I knew there was a shovel on the porch because we had killed a rattlesnake on the porch a couple of days prior. It had been raining when we were moving in (of course) and it had come up onto the porch. The door had been wide open as we brought things inside. I remember thinking at the time how lucky we were to have found that snake before it had gotten into the house!

So, I got the shovel, went to the playroom, kid still stuck to my leg. I told him to move away and he wouldn’t let go. I yelled at him and stomped the floor to emphasize the importance of listening to me. That only made him hold on tighter. And the stomping on the floor was irritating the snake and he started uncoiling to move to another location.

I think I actually said some curse words aloud at this point.

So, I moved forward and planned my attack. I remember standing there, thinking that I was glad that he was a regular-sized snake, maybe two and a half feet, so his striking distance wouldn’t be far. Even though the shovel was a regular-sized shovel, my arms are really short, I wanted as much distance between us as possible. As I planned my attack, I learned something. Sometimes the more that you think about doing something that you’re afraid to do, the more you can start scaring yourself. I didn’t want to be there. But if I left, then who knows where the snake would hide? And then we’d still be faced with having to get rid of it.

I knew I had to attack before I got too afraid. I hit it with the flat side of the shove, and it got really mad. The second thing I learned that day, killing a rattlesnake on padded carpeting is a lot more difficult than you think it would be. All I did was make it really mad. It started winding and unwinding himself, trying to figure out who the hell I was, why did I wake him up, and what did I have against him?

Since that wasn’t working, I used the edge of the shovel blade. I placed it right behind his head and pushed down. Nothing. So, I pushed harder and sawed back and forth. As my son was still grasping my leg, I was thinking that at least if it left a bloody spot on my new carpet that it would be hidden under the couch. (Hey, I worked really hard to find that good carpet at a decent price!)

I think at this point I had it incapacitated enough that I scooped it up and take it outside to finish the job. After it was over, I had a discussion with my son about the importance of listening to me. Unfortunately, over the next six years we were faced with the same dilemma six more times. But every time I told him to get on his bed until I gave the all clear, he did it. He also got very good at spotting rattlesnakes that I didn’t see.

Maybe for the second story I’ll tell you about the second half of this day and how I learned about the Sweetwater Rattlesnake Roundup.

Thanks for reading this if you’ve made it this far! One of the reasons I write the stories about West Texas is to show the world what it’s like.


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For The Sake Of Story

Or also known as-

Yes, I Know There Are A Lot Of Snakes In My Novel, But That’s How Many There Really Were

(I think I’ll stick to the first title, it’s shorter.)

(Warning: if reading about snakes or killing snakes bothers you, don’t read further.)

So the critiques from my betas for Gilt Ridden are trickling in. (Actually, they’re all in. I’m just being pokey about getting through them.) And the comments are pretty much what I thought they’d be. Which makes me happy. It means that what I was feeling about the writing is what readers felt too.

And as with any novel that has some moments based on real events, there is a balancing act between showing the true facts and writing what is best for the story. While writing the scenes in which my main character is either killing rattlesnakes or searching for them, I knew the reader would be getting tired of it. But that’s what life on our ranch was really like.

Looking for snakes and killing them was my hobby. It was an ever-present task. Even doing a visual sweep inside of the house was a part of the ritual. When we moved to the ranch, our son was only 3, so the danger of a rattlesnake was very real. And the nearest hospital was a 30 minute drive away. By the time we moved away six years later, I had killed over 200 rattlers. They had become such a part of our lives, if a day went by and I hadn’t found one, it seemed like a boring day.

Some people have asked me, “Why did you stay out there? I would have moved!”

Well, have you seen those ghost stories where the family can’t move because every cent they had went into the house? That was us when we first got there. We had no other option. At least we didn’t have to do an exorcism. Shovels and shotguns worked just fine.

Stuart Ranch House

Ranch House

One of the reasons I felt compelled to include so many snake “interactions” in the story is because I was trying to show the world what living in West Texas was really like. Whenever I tell people some of the things that happened, they say, “You have to put that in a book!” Well, I tried and while I was writing I knew people wouldn’t believe it. It’s just too much for some folks, I guess.

So I’ll be revising the book.

I also want to tell you a comment someone said to me. (paraphrased) “I’m having trouble with a couple of scenes because Kay’s background isn’t the same as yours. She’s not exactly like you.”

My response, “I’m boring. I had to make Kay more interesting. That’s why it’s called ‘fiction’.”

 

I must add that when I let myself be free of, “What would I have have done? What really happened?”, the story was much easier to write. I had to remind myself that it isn’t a memoir, it’s fiction. I hope this doesn’t come across like I’m mad. Far from it, I’m grateful to my beta readers! I just thought I’d use this platform to share with you what life was like out there and how reality isn’t necessarily what’s best for the story.

Too many snakes for you? You should have tried living there.

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    The most active day, 18 snakes. 


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