I do two blogs and sometimes it’s hard to come up with what I want to say. Face it, it’s hard to always be sorta interesting and get readers to not only enjoy the blog but also want to pick up your book(s). What makes this blog fun to write is that the writers here can gear it towards our passions and pretty much trust than anyone visiting is coming here to read a tidbit or two about horses.
I typically don’t have a plan for the blogs, and it worked the same way today. I started with a question, just like I do when I begin writing a new book. My book question is always: What if…. For today’s blog, I thought about what do horse people love as far as entertainment goes, and guess what—duh—we love the same thing in our entertainment as we love in our world—HORSES! There are some great books out there that incorporate the horse world, and I personally am going to toot the Equestrian Ink authors here, and say that we are some of the very best. But not only do we as horse people love to read about our worlds, they love to watch them, and that started me thinking about great horse movies.
I remember my first horse movie. I was ten-years-old or so, and my mom took me and another friend to see International Velvet with Tatum O’Neil. I loved this movie, and it actually started me on my first horse book, which turned out to be about sixty hand written pages in a notebook about a girl who had lost her parents and went to live with her aunt on a ranch and fell in love with the horse world and her major goal was to become and Olympic champion (I know it sounds just like the movie, but come on—I was ten). I still love this movie and was delighted to see my daughter watching it the other day. I bought it for her for Christmas along with National Velvet, which of course is such an all time classic—no horse lover should be without.
How about The Black Stallion? Has there ever been such rich and beautiful cinematography? I wanted to be Alec Ramsey so badly and ride that amazing animal. That movie would still bring tears to my eyes. Not only did I love the movie but read every Walter Farley book I could get my hands on growing up. Ah—those were the days.
We recently watched the updated version of My Friend Flicka, which made both my daughter and me cry. We saw it at the theater and then when it came out had to go and get a copy.
Has anyone seen Back to the West (think that’s what it’s called)—about the Irish gypsies and the kids who is fortunate enough to have a magical horse enter their lives? This movie was amazing in scenery and the love the boys felt for the horse is exactly the same type of love most all horse people I know feel toward the animal. If you have not watched this movie (it was made in the early nineties) then do so. You will not be disappointed.
And, who can forget The Horse Whisperer? Okay, there is something extra special when you combine Robert Redford and horses!
There are so many wonderful horse related movies out there that I can’t think of them all, but I’d love to hear from all of you so I can add to my list. Tell us your favorites and why.
Have a wonderful week.
Cheers,
Michele
www.michelescott.com
www.cozychicks.com
www.equestrianink.blogspot.com
Monday, March 31, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Springtime with horses
Still, Topper and I would work through our excitement about the coming of spring in our own ways and come out as a team again, ready for another show season. I try to remember those moments when my deadlines get tight and my plate seems impossibly full. Life has moments of challenge, and a new season or a new project always has its interesting moments. Of course, life always looks better from the back of a horse, but it’s possible to use the ability to focus I learned as a horse person to plow through the myriad details of a busy life. 
Here’s to spring and the changes life brings. Happy reading and happy riding!
Cheers,
Mary
www.marypaine.com
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Adventures with Stoney . . .
by Kit Ehrman
I purchased my first horse, a big flea-bitten gray, when I was twenty-three. Stoney was a sweet, wonderful guy. He was green when I bought him, but he advanced quickly. He was usually very solid and steady in the show ring and did well in low hunter and pleasure classes, often earning several champion titles in one show. He was also well behaved when I took him to some combined training events. But there was one place where his ornery side came into play—out on the trail . . . alone.
In company, he was great. Stoney preferred to lead. He was bold and confident, and riding him felt like driving a bulldozer. “You want to go up that ten-foot muddy bank out of the river?” “Sure, no problem.” I’d point him, and off he’d go.
“What, no trail?” “Not a problem.” I might get scratched up with briers and gouged by tree branches, but none of this held him back.
And he loved river crossings. He’d stand in the middle of the current while schools of fish swam between his legs. I have no idea what he thought they were, but he’d cant his head and watch them dart beneath his belly. And I’d have to be careful, because he liked to roll, especially when it was hot. I would have loved to have taken him for a swim, though we never had that opportunity.
But when we set off alone, I never knew if I’d be walking home or riding because he had this nasty habit of bucking as we came out of stream crossings or after jumping a log. He didn’t get me off much, but when he did, he’d gallop for home.
I remember this one time when we were out in the woods, and he started bucking after we jumped a log. He put his nose to the ground and pulled me right out of the saddle. I was actually straddling his neck as he continued to buck down the trail, and it was then that I made the decision to bail instead of risk slipping beneath his hooves. I lunged to the side and hit the dirt, and off he went down the trail. I ran uphill and almost caught him as he whizzed by on the switchback. When I’d finally trudged back to the stable, I couldn’t find him and was afraid he’d remain forever hidden in a dense corn field. But, he hadn’t stayed out in the open to pig out. He’d squeezed into the stall we used to store hay and was chowing down on a bale of alfalfa.
We had some adventures in groups, too. My boss was a wild woman in the saddle. She took a bunch of us novices on a cross-country gallop. Stoney was so excited by this barely-controlled, group gallop, I spent much of the run trying to keep his bucking under control. We slowed to a canter when we reached a wooded trail. My boss was an excellent horsewoman. She was riding Pocket, her son's beautiful bay hunter. As he cantered down the trail on autopilot, she was twisted around in the saddle, watching her band of excited students, when I noticed a heavy low branch jutting across the trail. I warned her just in time. Otherwise, she would have been knocked right off.
The land surrounding the horse farm where I worked at the time bordered Maryland’s Patuxent River, and it was extremely hilly and wooded. When I first purchased Stoney, he had no clue how to get us to the bottom of some of these hills except to make a mad dash down them. He’d stand at the top, worried, shifting his weight; then he’d take a deep breath and just go. I eventually got him to understand that he could take his time, and those big scary hills lost some of their menace.
Columbia Horse Center
My fictitional Foxdale Farm, where Steve works, is based on the Columbia Horse Center.
The hours I’ve spent riding, especially cross country, show up in my fiction. Here’s a little excerpt from AT RISK, where Steve has taken a school horse out for a nighttime ride. One of the boarders had noticed a six-horse that resembles the trailer used in a horse theft, and Steve is going to check it out:
I owned Stoney until his death at age 31. He was a great guy, and his memory lives on in my writing.
Happy reading and riding.
Kit Ehrman
www.kitehrman.com
I purchased my first horse, a big flea-bitten gray, when I was twenty-three. Stoney was a sweet, wonderful guy. He was green when I bought him, but he advanced quickly. He was usually very solid and steady in the show ring and did well in low hunter and pleasure classes, often earning several champion titles in one show. He was also well behaved when I took him to some combined training events. But there was one place where his ornery side came into play—out on the trail . . . alone.
In company, he was great. Stoney preferred to lead. He was bold and confident, and riding him felt like driving a bulldozer. “You want to go up that ten-foot muddy bank out of the river?” “Sure, no problem.” I’d point him, and off he’d go.
“What, no trail?” “Not a problem.” I might get scratched up with briers and gouged by tree branches, but none of this held him back.
And he loved river crossings. He’d stand in the middle of the current while schools of fish swam between his legs. I have no idea what he thought they were, but he’d cant his head and watch them dart beneath his belly. And I’d have to be careful, because he liked to roll, especially when it was hot. I would have loved to have taken him for a swim, though we never had that opportunity.
But when we set off alone, I never knew if I’d be walking home or riding because he had this nasty habit of bucking as we came out of stream crossings or after jumping a log. He didn’t get me off much, but when he did, he’d gallop for home.
I remember this one time when we were out in the woods, and he started bucking after we jumped a log. He put his nose to the ground and pulled me right out of the saddle. I was actually straddling his neck as he continued to buck down the trail, and it was then that I made the decision to bail instead of risk slipping beneath his hooves. I lunged to the side and hit the dirt, and off he went down the trail. I ran uphill and almost caught him as he whizzed by on the switchback. When I’d finally trudged back to the stable, I couldn’t find him and was afraid he’d remain forever hidden in a dense corn field. But, he hadn’t stayed out in the open to pig out. He’d squeezed into the stall we used to store hay and was chowing down on a bale of alfalfa.
We had some adventures in groups, too. My boss was a wild woman in the saddle. She took a bunch of us novices on a cross-country gallop. Stoney was so excited by this barely-controlled, group gallop, I spent much of the run trying to keep his bucking under control. We slowed to a canter when we reached a wooded trail. My boss was an excellent horsewoman. She was riding Pocket, her son's beautiful bay hunter. As he cantered down the trail on autopilot, she was twisted around in the saddle, watching her band of excited students, when I noticed a heavy low branch jutting across the trail. I warned her just in time. Otherwise, she would have been knocked right off.
The land surrounding the horse farm where I worked at the time bordered Maryland’s Patuxent River, and it was extremely hilly and wooded. When I first purchased Stoney, he had no clue how to get us to the bottom of some of these hills except to make a mad dash down them. He’d stand at the top, worried, shifting his weight; then he’d take a deep breath and just go. I eventually got him to understand that he could take his time, and those big scary hills lost some of their menace.
Columbia Horse Center
My fictitional Foxdale Farm, where Steve works, is based on the Columbia Horse Center.
The hours I’ve spent riding, especially cross country, show up in my fiction. Here’s a little excerpt from AT RISK, where Steve has taken a school horse out for a nighttime ride. One of the boarders had noticed a six-horse that resembles the trailer used in a horse theft, and Steve is going to check it out:
Wooded hills sloped upward on both sides of the river, and except for a faint gurgling, where fast-moving water tumbled over a natural dam, the meadow was quiet. I might have found it peaceful except for the night’s objective. I looked at my watch. Seven-fifty-five. I had two hours before the last lesson was over, before Karen would check to see if we’d made it back.
When we came to a stretch of meadow where the footing was safe, I bridged the reins together over the crest of her neck--to act as a brace in case she stumbled--then crouched low over the saddle. She automatically lengthened into a ground-covering canter, the instinct for speed there for the asking. Her body rocked beneath me, her muscles straining, footfalls muffled, breath coming faster, louder, filling my ears. I pressed my knuckles into her mane and relaxed into her stride. The brisk air stung my face and pulled tears from the corners of my eyes. The ground beneath us was a blur, the speed intoxicating for both of us.
Where the meadow narrowed into a track not much wider than one of the old logging roads, with trees thick on both sides, I brought her back to a walk. Jet swiveled her ears and tossed her head in irritation.
“Sorry, girl. Can’t run here.” I patted her neck. Steam eddied through her coat, curling upward in tendrils, and I could smell her sweat, stirringly primitive. A link to the past. The result of countless years of man and horse working together.
I owned Stoney until his death at age 31. He was a great guy, and his memory lives on in my writing.
Happy reading and riding.
Kit Ehrman
www.kitehrman.com
Saturday, March 22, 2008
More Story Ideas
I hope Toni doesn't mind me expounding on her last post, but it's actually quite appropriate for me today.
You see, I'm in Washington State's San Juan Islands, Orcas Island in particular, as I'm typing this. My husband and I were married in the San Juans, and we wanted to come back here for a little trip. You can see details of our next 5 days in the San Juans on my personal blog at:
Back to the point of my post: Story Ideas. I was a boater in another life, and I spent 2-3 weeks in the San Juans every year, sometimes twice a year. Both of my books (Who's Been Sleeping in My Bed? and The Dance) are set in the San Juans, and I have plans for a few more.
"Who's" and "The Dance" both deal with a fictional camp on Orcas Island that is being closed down. This camp has an innovative program in equine therapy. My fourth book will be about this camp. Of course, it's going to require extensive reserach on my part, which I've already begun.
It doesn't hurt to get a little inspiration from being in this most beautiful place on earth. I know this post doesn't have much to do with horses today, but I wanted to share a little of the beauty I'm experiencing with all of you, so I hope you'll forgive me.
So have a wonderful Easter, and I hope you'll stick around and see what's coming with Equestrian Ink.
Friday, March 21, 2008
STORY IDEAS
No matter the type of fiction, all writers are asked the same question: "Where do you get your story ideas?" Most of us draw on the potential that arises from real incidents or experiences.
A writer's brain churns with bits and pieces of information, many of which are being processed as potential plot material. My own grey matter often drives me crazy with jostling ideas, each vying for a prominent place in my thoughts. The only way I can deal with the information overload is to jot down each idea or thought so my brain can relax--or fill up with more ideas! At any given time, I'm mulling ideas for horse stories, gardening articles, Miniature horse how-to books or videos, cooking articles, articles on writing, or photography ideas. (I carry a tiny spiral notebook and golf pencil in my pocket at all times so I'll never lose any good stuff.)
Sometimes a news tidbit grabs me and forces my brain to focus solely on that information. A story idea begins, but not without trepidation--believe me.
In 2003, five American Saddlebreds were brutally attacked and maimed in Lexington, Kentucky. Among those horses were Five-Gaited World Champion Wild Eyed & Wicked. The equine community gasped collectively and followed the horrible story for weeks, each of us certain that we'd soon know who could do such a thing. The five horses in question had been injected with a caustic substance that defied identification. Within two weeks, three of the five were euthanized--including Wild Eyed & Wicked. I was stunned, and began to follow the story on a daily basis.
The uproar continued while the investigative powers of the State and the finest veterinarians and equine pathologists struggled with the mystery. In 2005, the Kentucky State Police closed the investigation so that private resources could be used to continue the search for the criminal. My brain screamed, "Write this story!" My heart said, "How? You can't do this to those poor people who lost their horse!" My husband said, "How can you write a story without knowing the ending?"
In early 2006, I couldn't put it off any longer. I needed to write this tragedy into a story line and, by golly, I'd find a reasonable ending, if for no other reason than to give my brain a rest. I spent a lot of time conferring with veterinarians, pathologists, and the good folks at KESMARC Equine Hyperbaric Oxygen Therapy center in Lexington (they treated one of the attacked saddlebreds, who later returned to the show ring). I profiled a different breed and set the location in a different state, but the underlying thread remained the same.
Deadly Heritage was released in January of this year and, though my fictitious characters and motives won't bring closure to Wild Eyed & Wicked's owners, or clues to the unsolved crime, at least I can finally file away the 10-inch stack of news articles, pathology reports, court proceedings, and technical information that accumulated over the past five years.
See the beautiful horse that started it all.
'Til next time....
Toni
Toni Leland
http://www.tonileland.com
Women's Fiction with Kick!
Love to garden? http://davesgarden.com/guides/articles/by.php?user=tonileland
Have Miniature Horses? http://www.smallhorse.com
A writer's brain churns with bits and pieces of information, many of which are being processed as potential plot material. My own grey matter often drives me crazy with jostling ideas, each vying for a prominent place in my thoughts. The only way I can deal with the information overload is to jot down each idea or thought so my brain can relax--or fill up with more ideas! At any given time, I'm mulling ideas for horse stories, gardening articles, Miniature horse how-to books or videos, cooking articles, articles on writing, or photography ideas. (I carry a tiny spiral notebook and golf pencil in my pocket at all times so I'll never lose any good stuff.)
Sometimes a news tidbit grabs me and forces my brain to focus solely on that information. A story idea begins, but not without trepidation--believe me.
In 2003, five American Saddlebreds were brutally attacked and maimed in Lexington, Kentucky. Among those horses were Five-Gaited World Champion Wild Eyed & Wicked. The equine community gasped collectively and followed the horrible story for weeks, each of us certain that we'd soon know who could do such a thing. The five horses in question had been injected with a caustic substance that defied identification. Within two weeks, three of the five were euthanized--including Wild Eyed & Wicked. I was stunned, and began to follow the story on a daily basis.
The uproar continued while the investigative powers of the State and the finest veterinarians and equine pathologists struggled with the mystery. In 2005, the Kentucky State Police closed the investigation so that private resources could be used to continue the search for the criminal. My brain screamed, "Write this story!" My heart said, "How? You can't do this to those poor people who lost their horse!" My husband said, "How can you write a story without knowing the ending?"
In early 2006, I couldn't put it off any longer. I needed to write this tragedy into a story line and, by golly, I'd find a reasonable ending, if for no other reason than to give my brain a rest. I spent a lot of time conferring with veterinarians, pathologists, and the good folks at KESMARC Equine Hyperbaric Oxygen Therapy center in Lexington (they treated one of the attacked saddlebreds, who later returned to the show ring). I profiled a different breed and set the location in a different state, but the underlying thread remained the same.
Deadly Heritage was released in January of this year and, though my fictitious characters and motives won't bring closure to Wild Eyed & Wicked's owners, or clues to the unsolved crime, at least I can finally file away the 10-inch stack of news articles, pathology reports, court proceedings, and technical information that accumulated over the past five years.
See the beautiful horse that started it all.
'Til next time....
Toni
Toni Leland
http://www.tonileland.com
Women's Fiction with Kick!
Love to garden? http://davesgarden.com/guides/articles/by.php?user=tonileland
Have Miniature Horses? http://www.smallhorse.com
Thursday, March 20, 2008
A Lifetime with Horses
Mary
www.marypaine.comWednesday, March 19, 2008
One Woman's Path to Publication
I've recently been invited to join equestrianink and thought I'd begin by introducing myself and telling the story of the long trail that culminated in the sale of my equine mysteries to a major New York publisher. My name is Laura Crum and I write a mystery series about equine veterinarian Gail McCarthy. The books are set in California and revolve around the world of western horses. Each book deals with a different facet of western horsemanship, as well as a different stage in Gail's life, and all of the books arise out of my thirty years plus experience training and owning horses. Here's a condensed version of my history.
I grew up riding horses for my uncle (a part-time rodeo cowboy who competed at team roping and raised Quarter Horses), and was breaking and training colts for him by the time I was eighteen. In my twenties, I worked for a pack station in the Sierra Nevada Mts and for a large cattle operation in northern California. This was followed by a period where I worked for some prominent cutting and reining horse trainers and hauled my horse, Gunner, all over California and several other western states competing at reining and cutting events. Eventually I began competing at team roping, and continued to train horses, both for myself and others.
Right around the time I turned thirty I decided I was ready for a slightly less strenuous career. Since I had always been a big fan of Dick Francis (like so many others), I decided to try my hand at turning my background with western horses into mysteries, much as he had used his past as a steeple chasing jockey to create his own books.
So for the next few years I wrote. I continued to train horses for myself and competed at team roping, but my focus began to be on writing about it. I wrote longhand, in a spiral bound notebook, and I can remember writing away in the front seat of my pickup while I waited for my name to be called to compete at various ropings. I wrote in the barnyard while I watched my hosed-off horses dry in the sun. I wrote three book length manuscripts over a three year period before I was able to get an agent to represent me, and when she did agree to take me on she demanded numerous rewrites-this process lasting another year (she was a former editor and it showed). Once she was satisfied with the book, it took her over another year to sell my first novel, Cutter, to St Martin's Press. So the path to publication wasn't exactly easy nor was it a fast track. Still I have very much enjoyed the process of writing about the many aspects of the western horse world that I've been involved with, and I feel grateful that my mysteries have continued to be published regularly ever since that first book hit the shelves.
Cutter came out in 1994 and describes the world of cutting horses. It was followed by Hoofprints, which revolves around reined cowhorses. Roughstock features team roping and endurance riding, and Roped deals with ranching and roping. Slickrock is set in the course of a pack trip in the Sierra Nevada Mts and Breakaway involves Gail in riding the trails of coastal California. Hayburner describes breaking a colt and Forged takes Gail and her horses on a pack trip along the beaches of Monterey Bay. Moonblind features a Thoroughbred lay-up farm on the cliffs above that same bay, and Chasing Cans, my tenth book, which is just out this month, centers on a legendary barrel racing trainer.
I'm frequently asked by readers who want to become published authors what my advice would be to one who is getting started. Obviously you have to be willing to persevere with your writing even when success doesn't happen immediately. (Or doesn't happen for years, which was my own case.) I think this goes without saying. I have also found it helpful to write about things I know intimately. Almost all the facets of the western horse world that I explore in my books are areas that I have participated in for years and years. (The exceptions to this are endurance riding and Thoroughbred lay-up farms, on which my knowledge is second-hand-thank you Craig and Ginny!)
Since I have had horses all my life (currently I own eleven) the veterinary calls and emergencies that Gail deals with are based on things that have actually happened to me and my horses, or to my friends. And the horses in the books are all based on horses I have known (and mostly loved). This helps the books come alive (at least for me; I hope for others).
The books are set in California, primarily on the coast near Monterey Bay, where both Gail and I live, and where my family has been running a ranch for four generations. Though I know some authors can write about places after brief trips to research them (and do a good job of it, too), I don't posess that skill. In order to write effectively about the weather, landscape, and "feeling" of a place, I have to know it intimately.
When I first began writing these mysteries, inspired by Dick Francis as I was, I used a male protagonist. However it wasn't until I re-wrote my third manuscript, changing the male veterinarian into a female version, that an agent finally accepted my work. I believe this was in part due to the particular timing; female protagonists were just becoming very popular in the mystery genre, with a great many of us riding in on the heels of Sara Paretsky and Sue Grafton. I have come to feel blessed by the chance that gave me a woman to write about; I found that my ability to give Gail life changes that I knew intimately (having been through them) contributed to my ability to keep her "alive" through many, many books (at least for me, again, I hope for readers, too). "Write what you know" has become my mantra.
One of the biggest thrills in my writing career has been to actually meet the man who was my inspiration-yes, I mean Dick Francis. Since our meeting we have had a regular correspondence for the last fourteen years. You can imagine how delighted I was when he read (and praised) my novels, but the the ultimate moment came when he asked to borrow some details of veterinary medicine that I used to further the plot in Slickrock. Of course I said yes. (!) "Borrow anything you like" (though I don't know if he really did). Praise from one's mentor is sweet indeed and I am never happier than when my books are likened to Dick Francis'. (See the comment on the back of Chasing Cans-I'm very touched by it.)
All in all its been a wonderful ride-both the books and the horses. I still ride my horses almost every day, and despite all the hours I've put in writing over the last twenty years (yes, its been twenty years-I started writing mysteries when I was thirty and I'm now fifty), it doesn't amount to half the hours I've spent on the back of a horse!
Happy trails, Laura and Gunner
PS-Gunner is twenty-eight this year, happily retired (still sound) and living in my sixty acre pasture.
Laura Crum
www.lauracrum.com
I grew up riding horses for my uncle (a part-time rodeo cowboy who competed at team roping and raised Quarter Horses), and was breaking and training colts for him by the time I was eighteen. In my twenties, I worked for a pack station in the Sierra Nevada Mts and for a large cattle operation in northern California. This was followed by a period where I worked for some prominent cutting and reining horse trainers and hauled my horse, Gunner, all over California and several other western states competing at reining and cutting events. Eventually I began competing at team roping, and continued to train horses, both for myself and others.
Right around the time I turned thirty I decided I was ready for a slightly less strenuous career. Since I had always been a big fan of Dick Francis (like so many others), I decided to try my hand at turning my background with western horses into mysteries, much as he had used his past as a steeple chasing jockey to create his own books.
So for the next few years I wrote. I continued to train horses for myself and competed at team roping, but my focus began to be on writing about it. I wrote longhand, in a spiral bound notebook, and I can remember writing away in the front seat of my pickup while I waited for my name to be called to compete at various ropings. I wrote in the barnyard while I watched my hosed-off horses dry in the sun. I wrote three book length manuscripts over a three year period before I was able to get an agent to represent me, and when she did agree to take me on she demanded numerous rewrites-this process lasting another year (she was a former editor and it showed). Once she was satisfied with the book, it took her over another year to sell my first novel, Cutter, to St Martin's Press. So the path to publication wasn't exactly easy nor was it a fast track. Still I have very much enjoyed the process of writing about the many aspects of the western horse world that I've been involved with, and I feel grateful that my mysteries have continued to be published regularly ever since that first book hit the shelves.
Cutter came out in 1994 and describes the world of cutting horses. It was followed by Hoofprints, which revolves around reined cowhorses. Roughstock features team roping and endurance riding, and Roped deals with ranching and roping. Slickrock is set in the course of a pack trip in the Sierra Nevada Mts and Breakaway involves Gail in riding the trails of coastal California. Hayburner describes breaking a colt and Forged takes Gail and her horses on a pack trip along the beaches of Monterey Bay. Moonblind features a Thoroughbred lay-up farm on the cliffs above that same bay, and Chasing Cans, my tenth book, which is just out this month, centers on a legendary barrel racing trainer.
I'm frequently asked by readers who want to become published authors what my advice would be to one who is getting started. Obviously you have to be willing to persevere with your writing even when success doesn't happen immediately. (Or doesn't happen for years, which was my own case.) I think this goes without saying. I have also found it helpful to write about things I know intimately. Almost all the facets of the western horse world that I explore in my books are areas that I have participated in for years and years. (The exceptions to this are endurance riding and Thoroughbred lay-up farms, on which my knowledge is second-hand-thank you Craig and Ginny!)
Since I have had horses all my life (currently I own eleven) the veterinary calls and emergencies that Gail deals with are based on things that have actually happened to me and my horses, or to my friends. And the horses in the books are all based on horses I have known (and mostly loved). This helps the books come alive (at least for me; I hope for others).
The books are set in California, primarily on the coast near Monterey Bay, where both Gail and I live, and where my family has been running a ranch for four generations. Though I know some authors can write about places after brief trips to research them (and do a good job of it, too), I don't posess that skill. In order to write effectively about the weather, landscape, and "feeling" of a place, I have to know it intimately.
When I first began writing these mysteries, inspired by Dick Francis as I was, I used a male protagonist. However it wasn't until I re-wrote my third manuscript, changing the male veterinarian into a female version, that an agent finally accepted my work. I believe this was in part due to the particular timing; female protagonists were just becoming very popular in the mystery genre, with a great many of us riding in on the heels of Sara Paretsky and Sue Grafton. I have come to feel blessed by the chance that gave me a woman to write about; I found that my ability to give Gail life changes that I knew intimately (having been through them) contributed to my ability to keep her "alive" through many, many books (at least for me, again, I hope for readers, too). "Write what you know" has become my mantra.
One of the biggest thrills in my writing career has been to actually meet the man who was my inspiration-yes, I mean Dick Francis. Since our meeting we have had a regular correspondence for the last fourteen years. You can imagine how delighted I was when he read (and praised) my novels, but the the ultimate moment came when he asked to borrow some details of veterinary medicine that I used to further the plot in Slickrock. Of course I said yes. (!) "Borrow anything you like" (though I don't know if he really did). Praise from one's mentor is sweet indeed and I am never happier than when my books are likened to Dick Francis'. (See the comment on the back of Chasing Cans-I'm very touched by it.)
All in all its been a wonderful ride-both the books and the horses. I still ride my horses almost every day, and despite all the hours I've put in writing over the last twenty years (yes, its been twenty years-I started writing mysteries when I was thirty and I'm now fifty), it doesn't amount to half the hours I've spent on the back of a horse!Happy trails, Laura and Gunner
PS-Gunner is twenty-eight this year, happily retired (still sound) and living in my sixty acre pasture.
Laura Crum
www.lauracrum.com
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