There comes a time in every funny names aficionado’s life when you come across a person so well named, so compelling named you need to talk about it. This is one of those times.
I’m sitting in the Writer’s Cafe at a writer’s conference doing the “writerly-thing”—figuring out what session I’m attending next. Halfway down the the page, a session called “How Do I sell a Million Books and Never Leave the Author’s Cave?”
Score, I’m all over it.
Then I see the presenter’s name.
Meet Carew (pronounced cah-roo´) Papritz author of “The Legacy Letters” and a bona fide cowboy to boot. He’s no Alfalfa Desperado.
Carew introduced himself as a renaissance man in an age that lauds specialist. Wearing a cowboy hat, vest, large belt buckle on his blue jeans and cowboy boots, he spoke to our writerly souls—addressing a group of writers, an audience separated by large amounts of space like sage brush on the rolling prairie. Those of us hiding in the cave. Those of us creating our novels. Those of us rarely seeing the light of day. And he explained how to sell it—the stories, all while being an introvert. (Except I’m not an introvert).
He published his first book at age 21, an editorial cartoon anthology. By 23, he published his second cartoon anthology. Both became best sellers. Then his writing career took a hiatus.
He spent time traveling the world, worked in Hollywood, escaped Hollywood, traveled to his grandfather’s remote ranch in southern Arizona, embarking on his career as a cowboy.
While sitting on the back of a pick-up truck on the open range, he composed the story that would become The Legacy Letters.
As with all twists of fate, a friend of his couldn’t guide a tourist-filled trail ride, so he subbed in . . . wrangling his future bride.
His charismatic persona created opportunities for him. A book signing with the Naked Cowboy singing in Time Square. A book signing and interview on top of a volcano: Mt. St. Helens in Washington State. And the first ever book signing on horse back—the horse he married his wife on.
But that’s not all. In an era where 80 percent of all books bought in this country are romance novels purchased by women, he was invited to speak at the Romance Writer’s of America conference in New Jersey.
A cowboy set loose among hundreds of romance writers? Put on your spurs ladies you’re in for the ride of your life.
Dozens of ladies enjoyed his roping exploits. I want to read some of the scenes that moment inspired. ;)
See you on the dusty trail, buckaroos.
P.S. To the members of the Horsey Award Committee. Can we add a category for “Best Named Cowboy” this year? Not that I’m hinting or anything. :D