On Sunday, May 21st from 12-2pm, join Left Coast Writers® Live on FCCFREE RADIO’s popular show, Lilycat on Stuff. Lilycat’s guest on Sunday will be Marilyn Skinner Lanier. Marilyn Skinner Lanier grew up on her grandparents’ ranch in southeastern Oregon, serious cattle country and home to Basque sheepherders, until spring 1954 when her parents moved to an even bigger cattle ranch in northwest Wyoming, the setting for her debut novel, Hardpan, published by Westerly Directions Press in 2015. Two short stories, “The Drop-off” and “The Invisible Delivery Man,” were published in the 2016 Redwood Writers Anthology. The author has an MA in English from CSU-East Bay, and has taken online creative writing courses thru UCLA Extension. She participated in the 2014 Napa Valley Writers’ Conference and is an active member of Redwood Writers, a large branch of the California Writers Club, and the Left Coast Writers. Set in the mid-1950s in rural Wyoming, Hardpan tells the journey of a young ranch family grappling with the fierce forces of nature and the changing American West after World War II.
Wyoming book tour: discovering new pioneers in the old West by Marilyn Skinner Lanier Early August 2016 I’d been getting ready for weeks. Firmed up stops at indie bookstores in Laramie, Cheyenne, Casper, Cody, and Jackson for the week of August 8-12—towns that form a diagonal across the state from southeast to northwest Wyoming, through Yellowstone National Park to the Grand Tetons. I’d contacted bookstores and local newspapers with names that echo the rural West: The Second Story in Laramie, City News in Cheyenne, Wind City Books in Casper, Legends Bookstore in Cody, and Valley Bookstore in Jackson, the Laramie Boomerang and the Jackson Hole News & Guide. After Cody, Bob and I would drive to our family ranch near Clark where my family lived in the mid-1950s—the place that inspired my debut novel, Hardpan. But this time our ranch house wouldn’t be there. During my last visit, in 1973, I didn’t imagine our ranch house would burn down some twenty years later. Even so, the ranch land would be there—all thirteen hundred acres of it. Once more I’d marvel at the rugged expanse of sagebrush and cultivated fields interrupted by the Clarks Fork River winding its way to the Yellowstone and wonder at alfalfa fields that continue to defy the pounding winds