Watt O’Hugh III is an interesting fellow, or so I am told. A
19th century orphan from New York’s desperate Five Points slum; a
Wyoming gunman and dime novel hero; a Wild West showman; a Time Roamer, doomed
to know the day of his own death. A superstitious, damaged Civil War veteran
who believes, rightly or wrongly, that his tremendous skills with a 45 can be
explained only by the ghosts who swarm around him, protecting him from harm and
guiding his shots (when his cause is just). And a cowboy still desperately and
impossibly in love with Lucy Billings, the New York Socialite-with-a-Past that
he loved and lost a decade ago, and who’s vanished somewhere in China.
Watt O’Hugh has been on my mind for a long time.
Back in the 1990s, I was a journalist writing about movies
for a number of papers, interviewing film stars (and lots of starlets, mostly
from Europe for some reason, with the occasional Jackie Chan and Leonardo
DiCaprio tossed into the mix), when my agent asked me to try my hand at a
fantasy novel. Before long, the two of us dreamed up Watt O’Hugh. For a few
months, back then, I found myself living in the 19th century. In
1874, in New York City (a place and time that, by now, I could lead you through
with ease), I rode the El, strolled past the junk shops on Chatham Street and
lunched at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, the one torn down in 1908; and in Leadville,
Colorado, I peered nervously at State Street’s infamous gambling dens. Various
personalities of the age lived at our house, from J.P. Morgan to Oscar Wilde! I
spoke to Western historians; one suggested the Wyoming Territorial Prison as a
place to lock up O’Hugh when his luck went south; another, Elnore L. Frye,
taught me how to break out of the same prison and to swim through the icy
waters of the Laramie River.
Other than the Magic – the Time roaming, the women of the
dark arts, and a dragon or two – the novel I was writing was really very
historically accurate.
Two-thirds of the book spilled out of me like a dream, as
quickly as I could type. I skipped ahead to the last scene, a sunset-bathed
portrait of tired lovers at the edge of a cliff, storm clouds churning
overhead. How did they get there, and what did it mean? I didn’t know. A major
publisher came calling. So did a Hollywood producer; in Burbank’s CBS
commissary, I joined him for turkey tetrazini. (He has since gone on to great
things.) I guess life couldn’t have been better. And the turkey tetrazini was
actually pretty good.
But fortune has a way of turning. Business relationships
crumbled, friendships ended, and I didn’t finish my book. I stopped writing
altogether, moved into an office on Wall Street, negotiated some deals. While
there was a certain art to that, over the years (decades, actually!) I couldn’t quite forget about O’Hugh and his
great, tragic love for the New York socialite Lucy Billings, the vast Western
landscape that threatened always to swallow him alive, and that last romantic
scene, with its unanswered questions.
Well, my wife and some friends who had read my unfinished tome
over the years sat me down and told me that enough was enough. Just put this thing on Kindle, and print on
demand, one said, and at least I will
finally get to learn how the damn thing turns out. My little daughters
urged me to write them a book. One friend offered to draw the cover art. What
he came up with, in my opinion, is both beautiful and haunting. A real book
cover. So I took some time off from work, and Watt O’Hugh came back to visit
like an old, long-lost friend and told me the rest of his story.
But what, I wondered, is a self-published book, anyway? Is
it really a book? Is it really “published”? An old-school publishing guy, I
intended to keep my mouth shut and hope no one noticed that I had a book out
there. My friends could have their closure, and my daughters could have a
strange fantasy/adventure novel, written by their old man and dedicated to
them, to put on their bookshelves, to re-read as old women, and to give to
their grandkids. But early reaction – especially a gratifying Kirkus rave -- has been ecstatic. Maybe
Watt O’Hugh belongs to the world after all? Maybe he was always meant to be a
self-published dime novel hero, to live his marvel-filled life without the
oversight of a multinational publishing corporation worried about marketing.
Maybe his audience will find him?
Anyway, I hope so, and I hope you will enjoy his adventures,
and his romance.
Let me know what you think.
is a touching read that makes you rethink all of your priorities. It's so easy to get into a routine and forget that you only have one life and it's up to you to live it right. I will probably think back to this book for the rest of my life. It definitely leaves a lasting impression. When you are in the mood to read a book, you really should consider this one.
. Sometimes when I read a book, I have to write my thoughts down right away (or in this case, type). Eileens's writing style, along with her vivid description, makes for an excellent read! I have added her to my favorite author's list and can't wait to see what she publishes next! Grab a copy of this book, you won't regret it!
, I thought it would be a nice change of pace. As soon as I started reading it, I was hooked. I had to read it all in one sitting. I don't know what I liked more, the spicy romance or the plot. My advice, read this book and read it all at once because you won't want to take a break. 
