Though the Missouri River divides both Dakotas, the regional differences between East River and West River are especially marked in South Dakota.
West River considers itself Western: Cowboys & Indians (in capital letters), ranch land, and large reservations.
My fictional county of Eda is East River in South Dakota, the part few write about but where both flagship state universities reside, not to mention (really) the state penitentiary and mental hospital. It hosts the largest city in the state (Sioux Falls) and has gorgeous sunsets, bluffs, and rivers but no mountains to speak of. Oh, and lots of mosquitoes.
East River considers itself Midwestern, at least the farther east you go. Corn and soybeans are prime instead of rib. The exact cowboy boot/hat vs work boot/seed cap demarcation is murky, if not muddy, but again, the farther east you go, the less likely you'll see a Stetson.
As a child, after going with a friend to a rodeo show, I wanted to be a Cowboy (when I wasn't dying to be an Indian) and one Christmas got all duded out. Then I got laughed at and quietly retired my duds. Didn't I know I was an East River Dakotan?
But I know a few West River Dakotans and they've let me ride out with them, and not laughed too hard when the horse got away with me. (I should've gotten a clue when they gave me a horse called Toronado.) So, I've given up my dream of being a Cowboy and settled into my East River roots.
Speaking of dreams, my next book is tentatively called Dead Dreams and was inspired by my own failures as a writer. Dreams can inspire, crush...and maybe kill.
Another thing about East River Dakotans: they're champion slow talkers. Or, in my case, slow writers. Hopefully my readers will forgive me this regional quirk! No publication date set yet, as I'm in the middle of writing it after some healh issues delayed me, but presumably in 2012.
West River considers itself Western: Cowboys & Indians (in capital letters), ranch land, and large reservations.
My fictional county of Eda is East River in South Dakota, the part few write about but where both flagship state universities reside, not to mention (really) the state penitentiary and mental hospital. It hosts the largest city in the state (Sioux Falls) and has gorgeous sunsets, bluffs, and rivers but no mountains to speak of. Oh, and lots of mosquitoes.
East River considers itself Midwestern, at least the farther east you go. Corn and soybeans are prime instead of rib. The exact cowboy boot/hat vs work boot/seed cap demarcation is murky, if not muddy, but again, the farther east you go, the less likely you'll see a Stetson.
As a child, after going with a friend to a rodeo show, I wanted to be a Cowboy (when I wasn't dying to be an Indian) and one Christmas got all duded out. Then I got laughed at and quietly retired my duds. Didn't I know I was an East River Dakotan?
But I know a few West River Dakotans and they've let me ride out with them, and not laughed too hard when the horse got away with me. (I should've gotten a clue when they gave me a horse called Toronado.) So, I've given up my dream of being a Cowboy and settled into my East River roots.
Speaking of dreams, my next book is tentatively called Dead Dreams and was inspired by my own failures as a writer. Dreams can inspire, crush...and maybe kill.
Another thing about East River Dakotans: they're champion slow talkers. Or, in my case, slow writers. Hopefully my readers will forgive me this regional quirk! No publication date set yet, as I'm in the middle of writing it after some healh issues delayed me, but presumably in 2012.
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