Goodreads asked B.E. Crittenden:

How do you get inspired to write?

B.E. Crittenden My grandfather was a full blood Cherokee. He used to tell me stories when I was little and he lived with us in Peavine, Oklahoma. That was my inspiration to tell myself stories. This was my favorite story as best as I can remember. I was only five when he died.

I was riding my wagon to Stilwell to get some supplies. I had my rifle by my left leg and a jug of whiskey by my right. I came across a white man walking down the road. He was a raggedy looking man, he probably drank more than I do. I stopped and offered him a ride. He jumped in the back and I kept going.

He was talking like he was scared or something. I know now he was just nervous. Trying to work up his courage. If he had just asked me for a drink I would have got him plenty drunk long before we got to Stilwell. Instead he grabbed my jug and jumped off the wagon. He didn’t run away. He just went over and sat behind a little tree. He started drinking my damn whiskey. So I slowly got my rifle, aimed it at the tree and cut it in half right above his head.

He walked over to me and I never said a word to him. He handed me the jug and said, here you go sir. I just left and he lost his ride to Stilwell.

At three years old I found that story to be fascinating. Paw-paw was a big man, Redd Foxx always reminded me of him. When he asked me do you know why that man did that. I thought in my head in other terms of course. Basically, because my Paw-paw is a bad ass. I didn’t know what to say.

He said, because I am an Indian and he was a white man. He thought he could get away with it because of that. Guns are the only thing the white men respect.

At the time white, black, Indian meant nothing to me. I couldn’t really absorb the message. All I knew was he was my Paw-paw and I loved him. And that my Paw-paw is a bad ass. If I have any true storytelling ability it came from him.

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