I Will Always be a "Dusty's Girl"

I WILL ALWAYS BE A ‘DUSTY’S GIRL’

I guess you could say we are sparks from his fire, carrying on his mantle of mentorship... and authoring books, as well.

Linda Apple, Bestselling Children’s & Inspirational Author

"WHO’S THAT LAUGHING?”

It wasn’t unusual to hear people laughing at our annual company bar-b-que, but that laugh? It was thunderous.

My husband glanced over at the group about a half-football field away. “That’s Dusty Richards. He works for field services. He also gives the farm report for Channel 40/29.”

I strolled closer to get a better look. Although the sun beat down in the sweltering summer, a crowd of people gathered around this larger-than-life man who wore a long-sleeved light cotton shirt, jeans, and a huge white cowboy hat. I noticed how he clapped the table while regaling the group with his story. Just like everyone else, I was mesmerized.

Later in the day, everyone gathered their leftovers and left for home. I watched Dusty slap backs and shake hands on his way to his truck. After that day, I never saw him at one of our gatherings again. Even so, he was hard to forget.

IN A LIGHT MOMENT DURING A 2014 MEETING OF THE OZARKS WRITERS’ LEAGUE IN BRANSON, MISSOURI.

Casey W. Cowan

A couple of years later my friend, Lois Spoon, joined a fiction writer’s critique group that met weekly in the evening. Even though she wrote nonfiction she was welcomed to join. After every weekly meeting she’d talk about the group and what she learned. I wanted to improve my writing too, so I asked her if I could tag along. I’d never heard of critique groups. Honestly, I really wasn’t sure what they were or how they worked but decided it might be an adventure. Lois was happy for me to join her, since we both wrote nonfiction and could be a force of two.

The evening finally arrived. At the time the group met in a small room in a Methodist church. Imagine my surprise when I walked into the room and there sat Dusty. He stood and shook my hand.

“Welcome to the group, Buddy.”

Dusty? He’s a writer? Who knew?

Velda Brotherton, the co-founder of the group, also welcomed me. The two were the dynamic duo helping all of us fledgling writers find our wings. I joined the circle of chairs in the group, made up mostly of women. We brought something we were working on to read—five double-spaced pages—then afterwards, listened to Dusty and Velda’s comments. I never realized how thirsty I was for knowledge until then. Each week Dusty warned us about using weak words like as, that, was, sudden, and almost. He was adamant. Every week I scoured them from whatever I planned on reading to the group. Since then, I’ve fallen back into some old habits, but I haven’t had to dodge any lightning bolts from the heavens. I guess he’s giving me a pass.

VELDA BROTHERTON AND LINDA APPLE, TWO OF THE ORIGINAL DUSTY’S GIRLS.

Linda Apple

He also pointed out things like when we began too many consecutive sentences with noun/verbs such as he ran, she cried, he turned. My favorite advice from him, however, was to be careful about “burying the dialogue” in a paragraph, and for gosh sakes, watch for those prairie dogs—the repetitive words continually popping up.

My prairie dogs’ names were “just and so.” If I were being honest, I’d have to confess that my writing had a whole litter of prairie dogs.

I’d only been in the group a few months when talk of a writer’s conference in Eureka Springs, Arkansas, came up. That sounded exciting, and I signed up along with the rest of the group. We all arrived late Thursday at the Ozark Creative Writers Conference and attended the meet-and-greet together. Just like at the bar-b-que, years ago, Dusty walked into the room and owned it.

The next conference we attended was the Oklahoma Writers Federation conference. All us gals followed him there too. I, along with his wife, Pat, Velda, and the rest of the girls in the group, followed him to those two conferences every year. After a while, we were known as Dusty’s Girls, and we all wore that moniker proudly. I mean, who wouldn’t?

DUSTY WITH HIS WIFE PAT AND FELLOW NORTHWEST ARKANSAS WRITERS WORKSHOP MEMBER LINDA QUALLS AT THE 1984 FREE CONFERENCE AT MOUNT SEQUOYAH.

Barbara L. Clouse

He took care of his girls. Well, he took care of all writers. He wouldn’t take an excuse from us when we were tempted to hide in the background from fear of failure or any opportunity that intimidated us. He’d put his proverbial boot between our shoulder blades and push us through our timidity and fear into success. When we stumbled into the publishing arena, he picked us up, brushed us off, and led the way. He did that for me. In fact, he got me my first agent. He put his arm around my shoulders and said, “Hey, buddy. I want you to send your manuscript to Terry Burns. He’s an agent, and I’ve already told him about you.”

With quaking nerves from fear of rejection, I sent it. To my utmost surprise, Terry accepted it, and, boom, I had an agent. I can only imagine what Dusty said to Terry about me. After all, this was my first manuscript. But whatever it was, Terry took me on.

As the years went by, more Dusty’s girls were added to the group. Because of him, we all grew in our craft. Some of us followed in his steps and became mentors, conducting workshops and teaching writing techniques. We speak to writer’s groups and at conferences. I guess you could say we are sparks from his fire, carrying on his mantle of mentorship. Many of us have several published books, as well.

Almost everyone who knows anything about Dusty knows he was a prolific writer, a multiple Spur Award winner, a licensed auctioneer, a rodeo announcer, and one of his books was made into an award-winning movie. But over the past twenty years, I learned other things about him, such as his love for trout fishing.

My husband, Neal, and I hosted the group’s yearly Christmas party in our home. Sometime during the evening, Dusty and Neal would wander off in a corner and talk about the fish they’d caught since the last time they’d spoken. Dusty’s catch was always as big as his arms could span. They’d share their favorite springs and secret fishing spots. He really enjoyed a good joke. Many times he’d sit next to me, lower his head in a conspiratorial manner, and murmur an antic before palming the table and exploding with laughter. My ears rang for hours, but my smile lasted far longer.

DUSTY, TAKING THE CEREMONIAL FIRST DRINK OF CHAMPAGNE DURING NWAWW ‘S ANNUAL CHRISTMAS PARTY.

Linda Apple

When I think of Dusty, I see him as a roaring fire in the hearth. It didn’t matter where he stood or sat, people were drawn to him. He warmed us with his generosity and acceptance. His light illuminated the way to writing success. As I write this, I still can’t believe he has ridden off into the sunset. Many of his girls had ridden on ahead of him, and I’m sure they were there to welcome him home. Even though he is gone from this earth, he lives on in all of us who remain.

Even though I’ll never stand in his giant shadow or delight in his bear hug of a laugh, I am, and will always be, a

—LINDA APPLE is the author of seven books (nonfiction and fiction) as well as an inspirational/motivational speaker. She writes to inspire her readers of all ages. Her latest children’s series, Winston’s Wisdom, chronicles the adorable adventures of Winston the Scottish Terrier, the Top Dog In Charge (TDIC) of Apple Security.