The Making of a Company

First off, it's good to be back here at Equestrian Ink. Life has gotten very busy for me and I had to kind of take a look at where I needed to scale back. Blogging was one of the items included in the scaling back list. But I am back with Eq Ink because any chance I get to write about horses, the world of horses, or how to incorporate horses into writing--well, I want to be writing about that!

For readers and followers who don't know, I have another job other than my writing, which I think is typical of most writers. I work for my family's business--Professional's Choice Sports Medicine Inc. My dad started Prof Choice thirty-four-years ago. And he started the company because of a horse. The company is about horses so that shouldn't be a surprise. However, initially Prof. Choice didn't have anything to do with horses.

When I was six-years-old (a long time ago) my dad bought a horse named Ivan. Ivan was huge. He was a half draft and half Quarter horse. He had the mind of a saint for the most part and over the years this gentle giant taught many people how to ride. My dad worked in the car business at the time. It was summer time and I can remember begging my dad to come home early from work so that I could ride Ivan. One evening he did just that. Dad got home and although it was already getting late (around Ivan's dinner time) he went ahead and and got him ready for me to ride. Looking back, I am sure my dad wonders if he had lost all common sense at the time, and I was only six--so common sense wasn't something I even understood the concept of. Anyway, we only had a bareback pad and because it was the horse's dinner time, Dad let me know that this was going to be a short ride. We set out on the trail behind our house. Dad had this dirt bike--not one of the loud vroom-vroom types, but more of a put-put type. He got on his bike and stayed a distance behind me. When we got to the end of the trail we turned around and Dad said, "Now it's Ivan's dinner time. I want you to just walk him. No trotting because he might decide he wants to get back to the barn faster than we'd like him to." Okay, so common sense might not have been something I had, but I could be a little precocious so when I heard don't trot him, my litte ears must not have heard or else my little mind did not obey. I got a little ahead with Ivan and sure enough had him in a trot, and sure enough the big guy wanted to get back to the barn and have his dinner--and sure enough it was a lot faster than that trot.

As Ivan and I crested the hill behind our house at a full gallop, Dad lost sight of us. Now, it was about this time I came off of Ivan behind a neighbor's house. I was fine--landed in some soft sand and Ivan went ahead and made it home. Dad didn't fare so well. Not seeing us, he panicked and he pushed that put-put of a motorcycle to go at top speed, and he hit a rock and spun out and when he came off the bike, it didn't take long for him to realize that he couldn't get up. He'd broken his leg in several places.

Fast forward to a month later--Dad in a cast, hot summer day and we had a pool. So, my dad thinks how nice it would be if he could just get into that pool, but the cast couldn't get wet. A trash bag wasn't going to work. My dad set out to invent something that could go over the cast to keep it from getting wet. At the time there was a small company making dive suits out of a garage not too far from where we lived (Body Glove). My dad came up with a design and with the sewer's help at Body Glove they put together his first invention-A Drycast Sleeve. Dad wound up swimming all summer in that Drycast. Now he poured a lot of faith and money into that invention, worked many extra hours as my mom did to get it off the ground. Suffice to say The Drycast didn't take off the way they'd hoped. But my dad kept on creating.

A couple of years later, (by this time we had three more horses) Dad is looking at the horses' legs a lot and he's thinking, "Those little legs underneath those big bodies need some preventive care and protection to keep them sound." So, he started talking to trainers, vets, anyone with any kind of real expertise dealing with horses. He came up with the initial sports medicine boot. It was that product that took off for him and moved a company my parents started out of a back room in our house into a small office building with a sewing machine. Today, Professional's Choice is the number one equine sports medicine company in preventative leg care. My dad's philosophy has always been that he wants to improve the comfort and life of the horse. He is a true horseman who really loves the animals.

I tell this story for a couple of reasons. The first is that if you are a writer this is the type of story that hopefully helps you in the journey. Companies aren't built in a day and neither are writers' careers. My parents instilled discipline and tenacity in me and even when I want to give up on my writing, they help push me through. I think of the determination and some of the sacrifices they went through to provide what they believe and know are products that really do help horses and riders.

I also tell this story to honor my parents who had faith in what they were doing. I also wanted to honor a great horse who lived to be 31 years old, and is buried on my parents' property. Without Ivan and that fateful day thirty-four-years ago, I have to wonder if there'd even be a Professional's Choice, or if I'd even be a writer. Who knows what kind of twists and turns life would have taken. But I have to say that I am happy I had no common sense at six, and was just a tad precocious.

Happy to be back!

Michele
www.michelescott.com

P.S. Check out my new book trailer for the YA I'm working on. It's kind of International Velvet meets Gossip Girls with a little paranormal thrown in.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4obM9UWrXPk

Using Animals in Fiction as Secondary Characters

I'm popping in before I go to work to let everyone know that I blogged today at The Romance Studio on using animals as secondary characters and writing scenes from an animal's point of view.

I know a lot of you are interested in writing equestrian fiction, so you might want to check it out: http://theromancestudio.blogspot.com/

One, Two, Three, Hurray!

Hi Everyone!

I’ve always thought one of the side benefits of being a horsewoman, besides the obvious delight of spending time with horses, was how riding keeps a person in pretty good shape. Almost three years ago now I was put on bed rest with a twin pregnancy and I figured no problem, after all those years of riding getting back into shape should easy.

What I failed to consider was that while I was in bed, coincidentally writing my first novel, I wasn’t working those muscles I’d used all those years riding. Having twin toddlers doesn’t leave much time for riding either, so I came up with the bright idea of working out with a trainer early in the morning before my husband left for work.

Well, this morning I heroically left the house before seven to meet my trainer. I heaved my way through an assortment of sit ups. Okay, this hurt, but any woman who has had children knows there is no way around some sit ups. We proceeded to some exercises for my legs, which went well if you ignore the fact that I almost fell over a couple of times. Yeah, I told myself. All those years of riding—the muscles were still there!

We then proceeded to work my arms. My trainer had always told me if I was riding correctly I would be using my hand, legs, and seat. Never my arms. Still, I figured, I lifted tack, bales of hay, etc., so it shouldn’t be too bad. The trainer, admittedly a former body builder, demonstrated the equipment and pulled the handles of the machine forward and back a few times. I cheerfully sat down and gave a pull but the handles were locked in place. I was ready to ask him how to unlock the machine when he said ‘Come on, Mary, you can do it.” I gritted my teeth, yanked, and the handles feebly wobbled forward. I repeated this exercise, more or less, a whopping forty five times.

Staggering home afterward, I collapsed on the sofa to be greeted by my son who leaped on me and shouted “Mommy, wake up!” My eyes had been open, so it must have been my total lack of animation that confused him. Undaunted, he bounced on my lap, threw his arms in the air and cheered “One, two, three, Hurray!”

I’m not sure what he was cheering about. Maybe it was the fact that I managed to shift my arms enough to indicate I was still capable of movement. Personally, I considered this quite an accomplishment under the circumstances.

Given that I’ve been in the health care industry for two decades, I’ll keep on practicing what I preach and keep tottering back and forth to the gym. On a brighter note, when I told the trainer I used to ride with my reins tied and my stirrups crossed over the saddle, posting for extended periods and then cantering and jumping that way his eyes got big. He said the thought of doing that scared him to death.

Hey, so here’s a cheer for us hard-working riders! Right now I think I’ve used up the remaining strength in my arms so I’d better stop typing.

Happy Labor Day Weekend, everyone!

All the best,

Mary

www.marypaine.com

Going Home

Hi Everyone!

Hope you all are having a wonderful summer. August is a great month to travel, and I had an opportunity last week to travel to New York for a fantastic writer’s conference, called Backspace Writers Conference. I met some very talented people in the industry, agents, writers, and editors, and I also had an afternoon to wander Manhattan and enjoy.

I grew up in the tri-state area around New York and worked in Manhattan for a time, but hadn’t been back since relocating to the Midwest five years ago. I love our new home. It’s a wonderful place to raise a family and I’ve made great new friends. We’ve been very happy.

Still, I had an interesting sensation when my cab crossed the Midtown Tunnel into Manhattan. It was almost a visceral sort of recognition, a total feeling of relaxation. Much as I love where we’ve moved to, I have spent a great deal of time figuring out where certain specialty stores are, finding contractors for the house, finding new doctors, dentists, and the like. To be perfectly honest, I also spent quite a bit of time just figuring out how to get places. I am one of those people born without an internal compass, or as my family tells me, I couldn’t find my way out of a paper bag. The fact that in Manhattan the streets are all numbered in a grid certainly helps the directionally challenged like me, but my relaxation also comes from long remembrance. Frankly, I didn’t have to think about where I was going or how to get there.

I met up with old friends I’ve known for almost twenty years and shopped stores I’m familiar with, although I spent most of my shopping time in FAO Schwartz. I called home to discuss options for buying gifts, and my husband reminded me this was my first trip away from the kids in seven years and I was spending my free afternoon in a toy store!

I wonder what the lure is about the old and familiar? Is it the comfort of familiarity lowering stress levels or fond remembrance of times past? Whichever it is, at the end the allure of my new home was definitely strongest. A hug from my husband and a chorus of “Mommy, we missed you!” was the greatest feeling of all.

Hope everyone has happy and safe vacations this summer!

Cheers,

Mary

www.marypaine.com

Never Trust a Matchmaking Witch

Hi Everyone,

Life is crazy but wonderful right now. I've just signed the contract with Siren Bookstrand Publishing for my novella Never Trust a Matchmaking Witch, which will be released January, 2009.

I’ve always believed the world of horses is magical. It’s been a lot of fun taking it one step further and creating some actual magic in my fictional horse world. In Never Trust a Matchmaking Witch the question is: What happens when a fun-loving group of witches start a new hobby — matchmaking for their mortal friends? Of course, the setting is a very beautiful equestrian facility where the owner/trainer has a plethora of talents, including witchcraft. It’s a given that her horses and even her barn cat have some magical abilities of their own.

Here’s a sneak peek:

Susan has some amazing fantasies about Dr. Brad Conway. Unfortunately, when she’s anywhere near the handsome surgeon, she’s a tongue-tied catastrophe. Along comes Brad’s friend Alicia, a horse trainer with a talent for magic and matchmaking. Trapped at Alicia’s home during an ice storm, Susan is thrilled to be on the receiving end of some fascinating, sensual advances from Brad. When she keeps encountering magical occurrences like a wolf-whistling cabinet, spoons stirring by themselves and a cat with an unerring ability to appear and disappear, not to mention change its own collar, she must decide if she believes in magic. But believing has a downside, because now she has a new problem to consider. Is Brad’s passion for her real or is it part of a spell?

I’ve had such a wonderful time creating the stories A Dangerous Dream and Never Trust a Matchmaking Witch. It seems my love of the horse world has taken flight in a new direction—onto the pages of my books! Hmmm…in my fictional world my characters can even consistently stay balanced in their half-seat (unlike me, for whom that remains an elusive dream). Not that all those hours jumping cavaletti without stirrups or reins wasn’t fun, but I suppose I can let my characters skip that part!

Happy Riding, everybody! Hope you’re all enjoying your summer!

Cheers,
Mary

Ride into magic and mystery with novelist Mary Paine
www.marypaine.com

Once a Horseperson, Always a Horseperson

Hi Everyone!

It’s funny how horses wind their way into every part of our lives. I was on vacation this past week in Chicago with my family and certainly figured horses wouldn’t be a part of the plan, since we were staying in a hotel in the city, but I was wrong.

The first thing we did was take my daughter to the American Girl Tea. For anyone who isn’t around young girls, this is the current ‘in’ doll to have. They have a store complete with an array of dolls, outfits, a beauty salon (for the doll’s to have their hair done – no, really), a theatre (to attend with your doll), and a café serving breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a full Afternoon Tea, complete with finger sandwiches and pink lemonade and, of course, a place setting for your doll.

Our first purchase, after sampling the tea, was a doll. When my daughter had a choice of dozens of outfits, she immediately honed in on the Equestrian Outfit. Yup, she’s my daughter alright. So now that our American Girl doll was suitable outfitted in red riding jacket, white britches, long boots and hunt cap, we moved on to enjoy Chicago. We exited the American Girl store and directly across the street were an array of horse drawn carriages for rent.

Radar on target, my daughter was jumping up and down for joy, all else forgotten but the four legged friends she just had to meet. Now, a former trainer of mine said that some of the horses used for these carriage services did not receive good treatment, so I had some mixed feelings, but the horse my daughter was zeroed in on seemed happy and in good condition, so off we went on a ride. Yup, a vacation including horses. We were in heaven.

Since my daughter had recently seen Princess Diaries Two, which included a scene with the princess waving from a horse drawn carriage, she knew just what to do. As we rode she waved consistently for nearly half an hour, smiling at passersby, and Chicago really welcomed her. We had countless people waving back, grinning at her, and we even had a group of people stand up at the plate glass window of a restaurant to wave and cheer. They must have thought there was a parade they hadn’t heard about.

Our newly purchased doll sure knew what kind of family she’d joined. Within the first hour she had a Master of the Hunt outfit and a carriage ride through the city. Hope she enjoys being part of a horse crazed family!

Cheers,
Mary

www.marypaine.com

mary@marypaine.com

Life's unexpected twists and turns

Okay, I write a lot about being a horse mom, but I believe this moment pretty much defines it. I'm sitting outside the ring during my daughter's lesson, writing my blog draft on the inside front cover of a dinosaur coloring book. I've always heard when inspiration strikes a writer forages for any handy piece of paper. For an equestrian author, this often involves scribbling on horse show schedules or the paper used to keep kids occupied in between rides.

I'm looking over at my daughter sitting straight and tall, leg at the appropriate angle, for all the world defining what is meant by a natural seat. As young as she is her talent is already far outshining mine, so I'm sure I'll be scribbling on horse related paper for many years to come. At the moment I'm balancing writing and watching her for support without distracting her. Stopping in the middle of her lesson to wave at Mommy probably isn't on her instructor's list of things to do today! Of course, the fact my little girl laughs out loud sometimes with happiness while she's riding isn't on the instructor's list either, but it always makes her smile.

The fact that Susan, the heroine of my new novella (Never Trust a Matchmaking Witch), shares many of these experiences, makes her near and dear to my heart. Of course, just to make things even more interesting, I added a magical horse with a mischievous sense of humor and a head trainer who happens to be a witch. Toss in Susan trying to overcome a fear of horses to help her horse-crazy niece and her secret passion for handsome boarder Brad Conway and we have a recipe for a wild ride!

Here's a sneak peek:

Susan wrinkled her nose at the smell as she dragged the muck bucket, a large plastic bucket filled with soiled bedding, across the brick aisle of the beautiful barn. The stalls gleamed with a high finish on dark wood and were light-filled and airy. The building exuded an aura of class befitting the wealthy clientèle who boarded their horses here.

Leaving the bucket a few feet outside Jake’s stall door, she opened it and tentatively stepped inside. A large brown jumper stared her down.

“Now, look,” she said firmly. “We each have a job to do here.”

Alicia had told her that Jake, the horse now eyeing her with obvious evil intent, was just testing her. Unfortunately, his tests involved much stamping of his huge feet and dancing around while she tried to clean his stall.

“Okay, buddy.” Susan gathered her courage. “If you don’t behave this time I’ll have to take you out on the cross-ties while I clean your stall. Then you won’t have any hay to munch.” Susan planted her hands on her hips.

Susan and Jake continued to eye each other. Finally, Jake snorted with a shake of his head and returned to his hay. Triumphant, Susan turned to go back for the pitchfork and the bucket. A bump from Jake in the center of her back made her lose her balance. Flailing, she grabbed for the wall of the stall before landing spread-eagled across the bucket, which was now in the middle of the stall.

“Um, can I help you?” Dr Bradley Conway peered in the stall where she lay flapping like a fish out of water as she struggled to rise.

He placed one arm under her belly and her muscles tightened in response. He gripped her upper arm with his other hand and gently pulled. This can’t be happening, she thought as Dr. Conway gallantly levered her up onto her feet. He gently deposited her outside the stall and reached back in to tug the bucket through.

“Thank you.” Susan desperately wished the floor would open up and swallow her, but no such luck.

“No problem,” he hefted the bucket easily and deposited it in the corner. “I’m used to it.”

“You clean stalls?” Susan asked incredulously, and then bit her lip.

“Well, not lately, but as a kid I did plenty of them. Want some help?”

“Oh, no. I can handle it. Uh, how’s Jen doing in her lesson?”

“Alicia’s working her and Ritchie over a gymnastic. She’s loving it.”

“A gymnastic? Isn’t that the wrong sport?”

“Not in this case.” He laughed and she noticed deep creases by the sides of his mouth. He was too manly by far to have dimples. “Come look,” he added.

He placed a hand briefly at the small of her back to urge her forward. Just a common courtesy, Susan told herself as a warm tingle flowed through her core and down her arms. She preceded him through the wide doorway to the indoor riding arena.

Together they climbed the bleachers that lined one wall and were separated from the riding area by a low wall.

Casting about for something to say, Susan’s eyes lit on the ceramic owls set in the rafters in the four corners of the barn. “Interesting decoration.”

“What is?” Brad asked.

“Those,” Susan pointed at the nearest owl.

Looking where she indicated, Brad said “Ah, those aren’t decoration.”

“They’re not?” Susan frowned at them.

“Nope. The plan is to scare other birds out of here.”

“Why would we want to do that?”

“Well, cleaning up after them isn’t a fun job.”

“Oh.” Knowing the odds of her being the one doing the cleaning, Susan looked back gratefully at the owls, then blinked. They had moved. Hadn’t they? They were in the center of each wall instead of the corners.

“Is anything wrong?” Brad was looking at her closely.

“No. Nothing.” Susan looked again. The owls were in the corners of the barn. I really have been working too hard, Susan thought. She glanced at the owls again and one winked at her.

Susan jumped sideways against Brad’s shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His arm came around her.

“Fine. Thanks. Um. . . do those owls have any moving parts?”

“I don’t think so.” Brad frowned at the owls.

“I just thought, you know, to scare the birds, they might have them move or something.”

“I’ve never heard of it, but good idea, though.” Brad grinned at her. “You should send the idea in to a horse magazine. Barn owners everywhere would be thanking you.”

“I’ll think about it.” Susan smiled back at him, forgetting the owls as she got lost in his warm hazel eyes. She must have just imagined the wink.

“See those?” His thigh brushed hers as he leaned forward to point toward the center of the ring.

Susan nodded, noting Jen astride the trotting Ritchie before looking to the area he indicated. Three jumps in relatively close succession were set up down the far side of the ring. The first was a cross rail fence Jen was used to jumping, followed by a straight rail that looked a little larger than what she was used to. It was the height of the last fence which had Susan sitting forward in alarm. “Jen’s not going to jump those three, is she?”

“Sure. That’s the gymnastic.”

Susan stared at Brad, all inhibitions lost. “How high is that last fence?”

“Well,” Brad considered a moment, “I’d say about two-nine to three feet.”

“What!” Susan jumped off the bench. “Jen’s never jumped that height before.”

“Relax, Susan. She’ll be fine.” Brad tugged her back down on the bench beside him. “Alicia knows what she’s doing. That’s the whole purpose of a gymnastic. The horse is set up correctly to jump so the rider can focus on her balance and strength over fences.”

“What if she loses her balance?” Susan’s small fingers gripped her knee.

“She’ll be fine. Alicia has the jumps spaced to be easy for Ritchie. This way Jen can focus on her position. Watch.” Gently Brad pried Susan’s fingers off her leg and held them loosely in his hand. Even through her agitation Susan’s body reacted to his touch and she glanced down at their joined hands before Alicia’s voice jerked her attention back to the drama at hand.

Hope you enjoyed this snipped from Never Trust a Matchmaking Witch. I had so much fun with this story! BTW, my daughter secretly organized the barn staff and other parents to sing Happy Birthday to me. I've just been serenaded. Even the horses looked attentive, if a bit confused. Sometimes we horse moms do get some unexpected rewards!

All the best,
Mary

www.marypaine.com

On First Loves

Hello,

My sincere thanks to everyone who gave me such wonderful advice regarding my six year old daughter’s heartbreak over her beloved horse Pete retiring. We made arrangements to go and visit him at his new home and her whole world looks bright again. It will be awhile before we can make the trip, but as long as she knows she’ll see him again, she’s okay.

Last evening she was pretending she was Pete and I had to call out voice commands to walk, trot, canter, halt, and back as she practiced her various gates! Considering she’s only ridden at a walk and trot so far she’s got a pretty good instinct for the three beats of a canter. My guess would be every time she sees a horse cantering she’s making an extensive study of the process. Hmmm…I’m definitely looking into a future full of horse mom activities.

Watching her brings back so many memories of my own horse-crazy youth. We couldn’t afford a horse for me, but my parents did spring for two lessons a week and I took my ‘barn rat’ duties very seriously every day during the summer months. There was one lesson horse in particular who stole my heart. His name was Ritchie. He was a tall, gentle hunter who didn’t have a mean bone in his body. His height was a definite advantage since at 12 I was already the tallest girl in my class (I eventually topped out at 5 10 ½). There was a pony named Cricket who could jump higher than Ritchie, but when I rode her my heels were about level with her knees!

One year, I saved every penny all summer so that I could lease Ritchie during the winter months when the barn didn’t have lessons. I will never forget the day my mother took me to the barn to arrange the lease. I was so excited I could barely sit still. When we went inside to speak with the barn owner, she had sad news for me. Ritchie had already been leased. I remember my heart being somewhere in the vicinity of my shoes and I know that’s how my daughter feels now about Pete. The owner had another horse named My Colonel available for lease, and we agreed to lease him despite (or maybe because of) the tears in my eyes over Ritchie. The owner said ‘he’s not the same horse as last summer,’ which I should have paid more attention to, but I was so desperate for ‘a horse of my own’ I begged my mom, not a horse person herself, and despite her reservations she agreed to let me try it.

Well, it turned out to be a good life lesson in ‘buyer beware.’ Colonel had developed the unfortunate habit of bolting for the barn whenever he got out of the ring or pasture. Unfortunately, one day he bolted and my hand got caught in the lead rope and broke the pinky finger on my left hand. I still have a crooked little finger, but I prefer to think about it as a reminder of Ritchie, whom I loved so much. Although, I do also remember the quite painful ‘buyer beware’ lesson as well!

I’m glad my daughter will have a wonderful, positive experience to remember with her first gentle equine love. As a matter of fact, I put elements of my own youthful experience as well as my daughter’s into my just completed novella, Never Trust a Matchmaking Witch. In this story a young girl has a chance at a free lease of a marvelous horse named, of course, Ritchie. Her Aunt Susan helps make those dreams come true by working in the barn in exchange for the lease and lessons. Of course, the fact that the barn owner is a witch who is matchmaking between Susan and a very handsome, sexy boarder adds fun and spice to the story!

The opening paragraph of Never Trust a Matchmaking Witch should ring true for all the horse moms, aunts, etc. who are helping little ones find their own dreams with horses:

Susan wondered why being a favorite aunt had to involve risking life and limb. For her niece Jennifer the risk was jumping astride an animal which outweighed her by at least half a ton. For Susan the risk was having a heart attack watching the pair of them.

I’m off to get my daughter ready for her lesson on her new mount. I’ll be armed with my camera & hoping to build lots of new happy memories for her.

Happy Riding!

All the best,

Mary

www.marypaine.com

A Sense of Accomplishment and a Big Cheer

Hi everyone,

I am so excited to have finished my novella, Never Steal from a Leprechaun. It centers around a wonderful equestrian facility owned by a charming witch. She has an assortment of delightful, magical friends who help create an unforgettable evening for Susan Mallory and her niece Jennifer. When they’re trapped on the farm by an ice storm on St Patrick’s Day, Jennifer is delighted to spend an evening at her favorite place on the planet—a horse farm.

Susan is not quite as thrilled. Trapped with them is Dr. Brad Conway, the very handsome, brilliant surgeon to whom she’s been afraid even to say hello. By the end of the evening they do much more than say hello while Susan learns there are many kinds of magic in the world.

My magical moment this week was the sense of accomplishment which comes with completing a story that’s been milling around in my head for months. The characters poke and prod at me and I’m forever getting ideas for scenes and running to grab any scrap of paper to write them down on. Since I’m sometimes chasing my two year old twins at the same time, I have all sorts of notes written in crayon on the corner of various coloring books. Since my kids are as horse crazy as I am, sometimes I’m writing on pages from horse coloring books, which at least goes with the theme of my writing!

I’ve had similar moments of accomplishment on the back of a horse, usually with dint of much effort. My wonderful Topper was a very talented hunter, for example, but really resisted going in a frame. We always cleaned up in jumper classes, but flat classes were a challenge.

The first trainer I had with Topper told me he simply wouldn’t go on the bit and that was that. She was encouraging me to think of Topper as my transition horse and think about selling him. When I moved to a second, more advanced trainer, he took the statement that Topper would never go on the bit as throwing down the gauntlet and we were off and running. I remember he would be schooling Topper, holding him in a perfect frame while I stood enviously by wondering what miracle had just occurred and how I was ever going to replicate it. This talented trainer also had a wicked sense of humor and would chant in mimicry of Topper’s expression ‘I hate my life, I hate my life’ while Topper was having to arch and move correctly. Topper did look awe-inspiring and I was determined to accomplish this task.

Many months of sweat-filled labor followed, and I never achieved the same ease as my trainer, but there were those blissful moments when Topper would come together for me and we had that amazing union of horse and rider that makes all the work in the world worthwhile.

Topper and I had always had that wonderful chemistry over fences, but the hard work it took to achieve a flowing partnership on the flat made the accomplishment all the sweeter.

Never Steal from a Leprechaun started with all these ideas in my head, but pulling it together on paper was a challenge. The work my characters put me through was reminiscent of the hours my trainer spent with Topper and me. Bend and counter-bend was invading my dreams while I learned to put Topper on the bit and recently my dreams have been invaded with cheerful antics by leprechauns and witches that I rose at odd hours to work at bringing to life on the page. The reward is here now with a completed story I hope you will all enjoy. More info to come and in the meantime happy riding!

Cheers,
Mary

www.marypaine.com

A Touch of Whimsy

One of the best aspects of a life lived with horses are the unexpected moments of laugh out loud fun. I’m currently working on a novella celebrating the whimsical side of the horse world. In this work I’m vastly enjoying creating two central characters: Jennifer, a horse crazy eleven year old and her Aunt Susan, who adores Jennifer as much as she fears horses.

When an opportunity comes to gain lessons for Jennifer and a free lease in exchange for working in a local trainer’s barn, Susan gathers her courage and faces her fears. Along the way she makes a few turnkey mistakes, including standing too close to the ring on a muddy day, turning her back on a mischievous lesson horse while a muck bucket is in front of her and trying to convince a mulish mare to move when the horse in question has something else in mind. Of course, the incredibly handsome man boarding at the facility happens to run into her when she has the scent of her misadventures wafting off her and bits and pieces clinging to her hair and clothes.

In creating this story I spent some time thinking about my mother’s role as horse mom. She loves me very much but is definitely not a natural horse person. Although the fear is real her heart is in the right place, as when we were shopping for a horse one cold day. We were considering one who didn’t have a blanket. Mom wanted to go out and buy him one whether we purchased the horse or not. In fact, she fretted about him all evening. For all her warmth and generosity, she was terrified when she was up close and personal with horses. My horse Topper used to love to nuzzle her if he was on the cross-ties and she was sitting on a tack box near enough. Her response was generally “Umm…good boy,” as she scooted out of reach. Since my husband and I didn’t have children at the time, I tried to convince her Topper was sort of like a grandchild, which earned him presents and an occasional pat from a very nervous hand.

Still, love came first and she hung in with me through all the years with horses. One day when I was about eleven I approached a jump from an impossible angle and my poor horse stopped at the base. I, unfortunately, did not stop but managed to grab his neck on my way off. I hung on and careened in a perfect one-hundred eighty degree arc to land on my feet facing his chest with my arms still wrapped around his neck! I figured Mom would be biting her nails, but when I looked over she was sitting on the hood of her car laughing her head off. Of course, so was everyone else at the sight of my long skinny legs sailing through the air and the bewildered look on my mount’s and my faces as we stood facing each other. If he could speak the horse would have said “Dear, you’re supposed to face the other way.” My fictional Jennifer and her aunt have the same experience—I just had to put it in there.

To further the touch of whimsy, the novella takes place on St. Patrick’s Day, which fits in perfectly with the wonderful myths and legends about horses. Of course, for fun I added a leprechaun and some lovable witches, one of whom owns the facility. A talented horse trainer, she keeps her magical interests to herself until one fateful evening. When Susan and Jennifer, along with the very handsome boarder who has his eye on Susan, are trapped at the farm during an ice storm, they encounter this cheerful magical crew planning their Spring Equinox celebration. The chaos is enhanced by a power outage and a thief conspiring to steal a rare Faberge egg. The results are romantic and hilarious!

Now all I need is a great title—not one of my strong suits. In fact, if anyone would like to suggest a title, just put your suggestion in the comments area. I'll pick a winner one week from today and give an autographed copy of A Dangerous Dream away as the prize.

Happy riding.

All the best,
Mary

www.marypaine.com

Jumping for Joy

Hi,

When I was in high school and considering different college programs, I remember my father saying “Whatever you do, make sure you like it, because you’re going to be doing it for a long time.” This was some of the best advice I’ve ever received, and I use it to this day. Writing is challenging and frustrating at times, but when everything comes together to create an exciting story, writing is absolutely wonderful.

I was lucky that both my horses loved their job as well. My first horse, Spencer, was never happier than when he was sailing over a course. He used to be turned out with two aged Morgans named George and Martha. He would gallop around them, away and back again, trying to get them to run and jump with him. George would occasionally lift his head, chewing slowly, with an expression that said ‘Spencer, you have to be kidding. Our running and jumping days are over, son.’ So Spencer would go off and do the jumps in the field on his own. The owner of the facility would sit on his back porch to relax and watch the turned-out Spencer jump for the sheer joy of it. His form over fences was very good, which told me where the talent was in our partnership. It was obvious he didn’t need me in the saddle to be a great jumper, but he loved me anyway, and we had the best time jumping together.

My second horse, Topper, used to be turned out in the indoor ring in the winter, and he did some breathtaking turns and jumps in there. He would probably have had a great time doing some jumper courses if he didn’t have a less than daring rider in the saddle (Ahem…that would be me). Being a kindhearted gentleman, he would instead take me over my comfortable hunter and equitation courses and never yawned once.

One year Topper had a leg injury. I went to an away show with my barn and rode my trainer’s old retired Grand Prix horse, Tron. He was a sweet, wonderful fellow who lived to jump, but arthritis was starting to keep him from the big fences. Occasionally my trainer would feel sorry for him and take a few big jumps to make him happy, but the next day Tron would come hobbling out of his stall. Given this, I thought he’d enjoy my small equitation fences, and he did seem quite proud taking me around my little course, although my husband mentioned Tron was finding the course challenging because he was trying to jump the fences instead of step over them. I ignored this probably accurate statement and listened for the class results to be announced. I was delighted to hear we’d won the division.

My husband and trainer both insisted that if I took Tron in any more classes I should gather my courage and try some higher fences, which would still be small from Tron’s perspective. I was pondering this option as I rode Tron back to the tent where he was stabled. We were relaxing, just plodding along on the hot summer day when suddenly Tron started dancing and sidestepping under me. His whole body was quivering. Startled, I looked up to see we were in front of the gate to the Grand Prix ring. He wanted to go in! He definitely had the wrong rider in the irons for a Grand Prix course. Gently, I urged him on and my heart broke when his head dropped disconsolately. Here, clearly, was a horse who loved his job and jumped for the sheer joy of it.

Now that Topper is in well deserved retirement, he’s still jumping, too. He lives on my in-law’s farm and one day my sister-in-law went to bring him in. She was reaching for the gate when Topper decided to save her the trouble and leaped over the gate to meet her on the other side. At five foot three, my sister-in-law ducked, but only barely needed to. After she got him in his stall, she went out and measured the fence he cleared. Five foot jumps was apparently still well within his abilities and he just wanted to let us know it!

On the days when writing is more like pulling teeth than a generous flow of words, I remember some of the amazing, talented horses I’ve ridden. Their dedication and love of sport run through my head with my father’s words “Do what you love.” I love writing and I love horses. I’ve been truly blessed.

Here’s to a wonderful week for everyone. Happy riding!

Cheers,

Mary

www.marypaine.com

What a Character!

by Toni Leland

The second most-asked question a writer hears is, "Are your characters real people?" OR, "Am I in your book?"

Any author in their right mind would answer a resounding "NO!" and dodge any further fishing expeditions but, I for one, have to admit that my characters are based on real people, albeit composites that I sculpt to fit the story. And I'm reasonably sure that even the person or persons I use in the formula would not know themselves. Human nature being what it is, though, close acquaintances are always positive they'll see a clue to the identity of my story people. Therein lies the perfect setting for either a lawsuit or a family feud!

Quite a few years ago, a writer published a book that was set in one of the big-breed industries. The writing was not stellar, but the industry itself was fascinating and, of course, anyone connected with it had to buy that book to see if they were in the story. At the height of the book's short-lived popularity, at horse shows it was such fun to lurk around groups of trainers and owners to eavesdrop on their conversations about who, exactly, the author was describing. And, in truth, this author hadn't camouflaged the "real models" very well, so everyone had it figured out within a few months of the book's release.

Writing a fictional tale requires, first, an excellent plot that will keep the reader turning the pages. Then, interesting and engaging characters must make the plot come alive. When Avid Reader begins a book, he or she wants to identify with the hero or heroine ("protagonist" in writer speak). As authors, we must build a character with a believable background, a believable personality, and believable goals. And we have to effectively present this story person to Avid Reader in the first few pages, or we've lost our audience.

Here's another version of the characters question: "Is your main character really you?" This one's tough because every writer puts a little or a lot of themselves into the story line and the characters. For instance, I'm terrified of large dogs, allergic to bee stings, and always on a diet. These tendencies or quirks do often show up in some of my characters. They just appear—I don't plan to use them. But the fact I've loved horses all my life is the biggest "me" trait that I instill in my characters, and I do that on purpose!

What kinds of story people do YOU enjoy most?

'Til next time....
Toni

http://www.tonileland.com

Read an excerpt from DEADLY HERITAGE now!