ABOUT MELODY

Upon deciding to become a full-time freelance writer, I had no idea where being a journalist would take me—literally. Early on, I discovered that by simply holding a pen and paper, doors opened. I’ve inspected coal chutes in the basement of a historic hotel; come face to face with a bucking bull (resulting in dirt clods in my hair and ears); toured and stayed overnight on a ranch smackdab in the middle of New Mexico. Along the way, I have met and spoken with a wide, fascinating array of people eager to share their stories.

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A deep love of anything cowboy and the Old West creates a fertile playground for my imagination. I spent ten years with the New Mexico Gunfighters Association and learned what it feels like to go “toe to toe” with revolver-wielding sheriffs and/or bad guys. I’ve played all the parts—cranky wife, dumb deputy, outlaw—and admit I loved being the “bad” guy.  I knew the bullets weren't real while I was performing, but my adrenalin sure was. As a bad guy, staring into the eyes of a surly sheriff made my heart pound harder. Those ten years gave me a firsthand feel for what the real Old West characters experienced.

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I retired from Gunfighters because, although I didn’t mind getting “shot” and hitting the ground, getting up became increasingly difficult. It was downright embarrassing to ask for help up, especially in front of crowds of tourists.

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Although I spent a few formative years in Guam and then years later in the Philippines (during the height of the Viet Nam War), growing up in southern New Mexico shaped me. As a child, I rode horses, visited ghost towns, traversed the desert looking for . . . well, just looking.

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Still today, I love to stand among the cactus, mesquite, and dunes. They all speak to me. The West speaks to me.