Elisabeth Grace Foley

Historical Fiction Author

Fifteen Ways to Lose Your Love Interest (Or, the TV Western Writer’s Guide to Disposing of Female Guest Stars)

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If you’ve watched classic TV Westerns for any length of time, you’ve probably noticed something about the recurring characters of any given series: they can’t seem to make a romantic relationship stick. This phenomenon is sometimes referred to as the Curse of the Cartwrights, but it is by no means limited to that one unfortunate family. (Or perhaps the Virginian was just a distant cousin of theirs; I don’t know.)  If “the hero gets the girl” was a cliché of the Western film, serial television turned it on its head and took it to the opposite extreme—even the most heroic of heroes just couldn’t make it to the altar. The real-life Old West must have had its share of bachelors, surely, but they couldn’t possibly have been jilted, bereaved and left in the lurch as many times as the cowboys of the small screen.


But it wasn’t really the heroes’ fault, of course. The blame lies with screenwriters who seemed to be allergic to the notion of marriage for recurring characters. We all know the real reason for this, of course: they wanted the opportunity to write romance episodes as often as they liked, and a steady love interest—let alone a wife—would get in the way. This meant that they were forced to get quite creative in thinking up ways to get rid of their female guest stars once they’d gotten the requisite number of romantic scenes out of them. The following is a list of methods, ranging from the cliche to the highly original, for a love interest to make her exit. Lest you think I’m just romancing (pun intended), let me add here that most, if not all, are drawn from actual TV Western episodes that I’ve seen myself:

1. She transfers her affections to someone else.
2. She decides that the West isn’t for her and catches the first train back East.
3. She never forgives you for having to shoot her no-good father or brother.
4. She gets caught in the crossfire of the climactic gunfight.
5. She dies of a fatal illness.
6. She turns out to be married already, and her husband suddenly turns up.
7. She turns out to be part of the outlaw gang. (Variation 7b., a con artist.)
8. She reveals a secret about her past that makes you change your mind.
9. She is offered a lucrative position and decides to eschew marriage in favor of a career.
10. She is told she has talent and decides to eschew marriage in favor of becoming an actress, singer, artist, etc.
11. She decides she’d rather stay with the Indians who captured her.
12. She enters a convent.
13. You promise to “come back for her,” but inexplicably never do.
14. It turns out that she doesn’t actually exist.
15. She simply changes her mind.

Have I forgotten anything?

So far as I know, the only TV Westerns that included a married couple among the regular cast of characters were High Chaparral and the last few seasons of The Virginian, when the third owner of Shiloh Ranch was a married man. Does anyone know if there were any others?

Someone’s Words

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I’ve become very fond of novels that open each chapter with a quotation (something that I wrote about once before on this blog, quite a while ago). The last two good novels I read that used this method were Hand and Ring by Anna Katharine Green and Nine Coaches Waiting by Mary Stewart. That last one made particularly superb use of them, with sources ranging from Shakespeare to Dickens to Elizabeth Barrett Browning and more, each perfectly suited to the events within the chapters.

I’ve always wanted to do this myself, and I’ve finally happened on my opportunity. Last summer I came across a passage in a book I was reading that perfectly fit the underlying theme of a Mrs. Meade story which was then in the planning stages. The thought of what it would be like to use the quotation at the beginning of the story briefly crossed my mind, and then flitted away. But later on it came back to me, and I thought—why not? Since then, apt opening quotations have popped into my head during the outlining of the next few stories, so I’ve delightedly decided to make them a feature of the series. I’m even going to go back and insert a quotation at the opening of The Silver Shawl—I think I’ve nearly settled on something from Shakespeare.

Going back to pick one for The Silver Shawl has taught me one thing, though. It’s much better and easier to have apt quotations pop into your head and suggest themselves than it is to go looking for one on a particular topic. And for that to happen, you need to have an underlying familiarity with poetry, plays, etc. for your memory to fall back upon. I’ve started making a little conscious effort to improve myself in that respect. I recently put the complete works of Shakespeare on my Kindle (for $1.99!) and I’ve been reading a Sonnet here and there over the last few weeks. It’s a funny thing about Shakespeare—you can plow on for a while through a tangle of unfamiliar phrasing and obscure meaning, and then suddenly happen upon a line that expresses some familiar feeling almost perfectly. The man certainly knew how to put things. Good poetry is like that—as the narrator of Nine Coaches Waiting puts it, “One always got the same shock of recognition and delight when someone’s words swam up to meet a thought or name a picture…Poetry was awfully good material to think with.”

In short, I need to read more poetry.

Landscape of a Reading Year

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I’ve already done my top-ten list for 2012, but I was inspired by Abigail Hartman’s roundup post on her year’s reading (and similar endeavors by Rachel Heffington, Jennifer Freitag and Elizabeth Rose), to do a more general overview of my own year in books. I’ve always wanted the chance to mention, even briefly, the numbers of other good books I enjoy during the year which don’t make the top list. So here goes! Links go to reviews where there are any.

Although I read more than 100 books in 2012, there were many shorter and lighter works among them, which undoubtedly swelled the numbers more than if I’d read mainly thick novels. I did undertake a few substantial reads, though. Back in January I finally got around to reading Wister’s The Virginian, which I figured was essential for anybody who wants to be familiar with the Western genre. It was interesting—one of these days I plan to re-read it and try to write a careful review explaining my thoughts on it. My biggest ‘classic’ read for this year was undoubtedly Anthony Trollope’s The Way We Live Now (which I did review). Some others I enjoyed were Mary Elizabeth Braddon’s melodramatic Victorian suspense novel Lady Audley’s Secret, and also Daphne du Maurier’s French Revolution family saga, The Glassblowers.

A couple other thick books I forged my way through were May Sinclair’s The Divine Fire (having been made curious about Sinclair by Agatha Christie’s praise of her books in her Autobiography) and Edna Ferber’s So Big. Neither really won me over, though I observed that Ferber certainly did know how to turn a beautiful sentence.

On the Western front, I read several more B.M. Bower books besides those on my top-ten list, Fool’s Goal and Shadow Mountain being standouts. I enjoyed Henry Herbert Knibbs’ The Ridin’ Kid From Powder River, Jim Waring of Sonora-Town and Sundown Slim. Knibbs wrote curiously rambling and unfocused plots, but endearing and entertaining characters. Also liked The Sheriff’s Son by William McLeod Raine, an author I’m not crazy about in general.

In mysteries, I took my first try at Dorothy Sayers with her first two Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries. Mixed feelings here—Lord Peter, Bunter and the Dutchess were positively delightful, but the stories themselves left a little to be desired, taking abrupt turns from light to macabre and featuring some slightly unsatisfying resolutions. I read another fine Anna Katharine Green novel, Hand and Ring, and a couple more short story collections by Melville Davisson Post: The Casebook of Monsieur Jonquelle and The Sleuth of St. James’s Square—both of which had some very good stories, but still not touching the magnificent Uncle Abner!

Nonfiction encompassed history and theology—in history, Edward T. Cotham’s Battle on the Bay: The Civil War Struggle for Galveston and Betty J. Mills’ Calico Chronicle were favorites. In theology, I read through Martyn Lloyd-Jones’ four-book Assurance of our Salvation series, and I’m still working on his Studies in the Sermon on the Mount.

Some good memoirs I read included Walt Coburn’s Stirrup High, Nannie Alderson’s A Bride Goes West (both excellent!) and Mary O’Hara’s Wyoming Summer. One Man’s Meat by E.B. White was also interesting. In philosophy we differ a good deal, but I appreciated many of his sensitive observations on farm and country living, writing, and life in pre-WWII America. Life on the Mississippi by Mark Twain took some getting through. What an odd mix! Really interesting narratives on the life of a river pilot and the people and places along the river, alternating with strange anecdotes and satires where it was difficult to tell fact from fiction.

Miscellaneously—if that’s a word—I read and enjoyed Jean Webster’s Daddy-Long-Legs and Dear Enemy. Christopher Morley’s short comedy Kathleen made a charming summer read. And one month when I was sick in bed I read through Susan Coolidge’s What Katy Did series (five books) in a couple of days. The only poetry I read was Scott’s Lady of the Lake. (I’m always telling myself I ought to read more poetry.) Last but not least, I loved Kathleen Norris’ The Rich Mrs. Burgoyne, and I read two more good novels by Booth Tarkington: The Turmoil and The Flirt.

I don’t have any specific reading goals for 2013, other than those that will probably arise from going where historical research leads me. I do want to make a point of reading some more substantial books, as opposed to the majority of short ones I read this past year. I can’t wait for my first batch of library requests to arrive so I can get started!