Creating a Novel

Or, What I Ought To Be Doing



By Laura Crum


Creating a novel is what I ought to be doing—not writing this post. I’ve decided that “books not blogs” needs to become my mantra. I have enjoyed this whole blog thing so much that I am procrastinating way too much on getting my 11th mystery written. Instead I put a few comments on someone’s blog, or go check out what mugwump has written lately. Blogging is fun. I like it that it’s a form of dialogue. Its addictive.

So, what about my next mystery? Aren’t mysteries fun to write, too, you ask. Or I am imagining that you ask. The answer is that I thought mysteries were wonderfully fun to write for many years. I delighted in painting word pictures, in telling stories, in giving my view of the world through my books. Being an author is in some ways very narcissistic (whether we’re talking blogs or books). This is how I see it, this is my take on it, this is my voice singing my song. It can be pretty; in a great writer (not me), it can be thrilling. But it is a certainly a form of ego.

Nothing wrong with that, really. We all have egos; we all like to sing our songs. But after writing ten books, I am finding it harder to get engaged by this form of self expression. I tend to like the blogging because people answer back, people argue, you bounce your thoughts off the wide cyberworld. Its interesting. So now I have to start reminding myself of all the things I’ve loved so much about creating novels over the years; I need to talk myself into telling one more story, singing another little song.

For me, the most interesting part of creating a novel is writing about things I truly love. Writing about the horses, the landscape, the seasons and weather, the plants and animals, Gail’s life changes, her family…this stuff engages me. The only problem? These are supposed to be mysteries. Somebody has to die.

Yep, I confess, I am bored with killing people. I begin each novel (including #11) knowing who gets killed and why and by whom, and then I let the plot evolve as I write. Frequently I find I need to kill someone else midway through the book or everything starts to drag (to paraphrase Dashiell Hammit, when the plot bogs down, I “bring in a man with a gun”). I find myself reluctant to describe all these murders; this is nothing that I feel drawn to, for heaven’s sake. I begin wondering how I ever got into the mystery business. It doesn’t help that I realize that many/most successful mystery authors do a very good job of keeping the reader gripped with their scary/horrible descriptions of the murder scene. Obviously, I am falling down at my job. I keep wanting to write about horses…and not about anything bad happening to them, either. Needles to say, this is a drawback in a mystery writer.

Then, as the book comes to a close, I have to invent a suitably exciting climactic scene, which in my case usually involves a “thrilling” horseback chase, something I’ve become known for. Hopefully these are thrilling to read. They used to be pretty fun to write. But at this point I almost feel like quoting large sections from previous books…how many ways can I describe galloping along being chased or chasing someone? I try every time to find freshness, to use some new approach. I bring to mind my most exciting horseback moments. Every wreck I ever had or saw is fodder for my poor protagonist’s adventures. By basing the horse scenes on things that have really happened, I try to keep them believable.

In each of my books I endeavor to use a different plot line than any I’ve used before. I try to bring some new changes into my protagonist’s life. I try to write about some aspect of the horse biz that I haven’t addressed. I try to create a different central crime. I really strive to stay engaged with what I’m writing. Sometimes this doesn’t work in my favor. Some readers would rather I wrote a “new version” of some of my past books that were favorites, rather than moving in a truly new direction (Slickrock is often mentioned in this context; “couldn’t I just do another one like that?”). But I keep changing what I’m doing (at least slightly) from book to book, so that I don’t become so bored with the character that I can’t write about her any more. The perennial struggle of a series author.

Anyway, I’m putting this out there in the hopes that you all, authors, readers, and bloggers, will give feedback on your own writing/reading issues. What do you like to read? What don’t you like? What are your writing/creating struggles? Maybe I can draw some inspiration from your thoughts and get motivated to finish this book. I hope so. The deadline will be here in a few months. I’ve never missed a deadline yet. If this becomes the first time, I’m gonna blame it on the blogs. (Do you think my editor will buy this excuse?)

Happy reading and writing!
Laura Crum

Pony Club

Our little girl Kaitlin started Pony Club a little over a month ago. She loves it and I love it. Already in a short amount of time, Kaitlin's riding has improved a ton along with her knowledge and she's making new friends. It got me thinking that why is there not a "Pony Club," for adults? We could call it Horse Club, I suppose. I seriously think there is a need and how much fun would that be?

I grew up having horses and it was purely the backyard horseperson experience. I loved it, but I sure didn't learn very much. I learned how to stay onthe horse, muck corrals and feed, but what my kid is learning now at 7 versus what I was doing at 7 is night and day. She's learning all about different types of feed, how to bandage, how to load horses, various ailments, etceras. Thank God I can read the book with her! I think I'm living vicariously through Kaitlin.

I brought up the horse club idea at my barn and a lot of people thought it was a great idea. The thing with great ideas is that you need great organizers and I am not one of those types. In fact, my organization skills are seriously lacking. My plate is pretty full as it is--books due, second grade room mom, pony club fun club mom, and two other kids. Not sure if I could manage another position right now, but I am thinking that if I could get enough people on board that maybe, just maybe we could put Horse Club together. I couldn't tell my husband though, because he's already a bit irritated that most of my weekends and evenings are spent out with the horses. What can I say? They don't talk back!

I'm curious if any of our readers or writers out there belong to a horse club similiar to that of pony club. If so, how does it work and do you find it a positive experience? I'd love to hear about it.

Thanks and Happy Trails,

Michele
www.michelescott.com

The Gift Horse and Random Stuff

First of all, thanks for all the comments on my last post. I'm sorry I didn't comment back, but I've been sick and didn't feel much like being online. So for everyone who commented, I'm sorry I didn't get back to you. I'm still a little under the weather.

Latigo Liz, yes, you're right, it wasn't really a "beginner" class that Buck was teaching in the morning. My friend kept calling it that, so I just picked up on that terminology. What horse were you riding? I didn't go back on Sunday, but my friend did and really enjoyed it, even more than the day before.

******

I did want to share my new cover and blurb with all of you for my book coming out in February. BTW, the horse on the cover is my very own, sweet but opinionated, mare, who's been featured in many of my posts. Photo courtesty of Carolynn Bunch Photography.

Never look a Gift Horse in the mouth?

CARSON REYNOLDS would dispute that statement. After all, it was a gift horse that got him into this mess in the first place. Carson has never backed down from a challenge, but he’s never faced a challenge like this one. It’s the project nobody wants. It’s doomed to fail from Day One because of lack of money, lack of planning, and no lack of a difficult, interfering sister. Carson’s mission is to transform a run-down horse farm into THE premium horse training facility in the Pacific Northwest and transform the disorganized resident horse trainer with a penchant for self-sabotage into a confident, professional equestrian of international caliber. Unfortunately, City Boy Carson doesn’t know one end of a horse from the other, and the large creatures scare the heck out of him. His situation is compounded by a love-sick, 1500-pound mare with a crush on him , his growing attraction to the grungy horse trainer, a disruptive sister who insists the trainer be fired, and a demanding father who has lost faith in his son’s abilities.

Tired of running from herself for six years, SAMANTHA MACINTYRE has returned to the scene of a horrific barn fire allegedly caused by her carelessness. She accepts the head trainer position at that run-down facility with the hope of defeating her demons, proving her innocence, and earning a permanent position at the new equestrian center. With lofty aspirations, but no money and no horse, Sam will do anything to ride the talented, though difficult, horse Carson received as a birthday gift from his family. But first, she must pass the test: compete the horse for one season, impress Carson, and best his sister’s preferred trainer.

As Sam gets closer to the truth regarding the cause of that long-ago fire, small mishaps begin to escalate into larger, more serious, accidents. Carson’s horse knows the real perpetrator, if only those dimwitted humans would listen. With no where else to turn, Sam confides in Carson and together they delve into the actual cause of the fire. With the help of an opinionated equine, they face a surprising reality--that love is more important than ambition, money, or blue ribbons.

How To Stay Dedicated and the Art of Rationalization

Hi Everybody,

Well, the time has come. My twins are three now and I have no excuses left for the (gulp!) fifteen pounds of baby weight I'm still carrying around. Besides, carrying my post partum weight on top of twin toddlers who together weigh 75 pounds is more than I can manage.

So I'm officially joining the ranks of those working on losing weight. My first order of business was to examine what I did differently before kids. Ah, this was easy. I rode six days a week. Two days were lessons and the other four I work rode doing a combination of basic dressage, working over ground poles, and riding sans stirrups.

At the time my focus was on improving my riding and staying in the saddle the highest possible percentage of the time. Little did I realize lack of cellulite and flat abs were a gift from my two horses.

After bedrest with twins and a 57 pound weight gain, this is no longer the case. (Picture a pumpkin with sticks thrust in it for arms and legs and you'll have a mental picture of me in my third trimester.) Still, the most important goal was realized. Beautiful, healthy twin boys. Now it's time to do something about Mom.

Okay, add up three kids, house, husband, and a career that I love and returning to riding six days a week doesn't fit into the equation (sadly). Unless, of course, there's a Powerball ticket in my future, but in my waking hours I don't count on that option.

So here's the dilemma. How to replace the wonderful health benefits of daily riding? Well, the therapeutic value of being around horses gets handled with horse mom duties and occasional rides. Still, I could think of no exercise plan I could tolerate which would equal the benefits of a lifetime in the saddle.

Next up, I decided to get some help. I started working with a personal trainer. Not the horse kind, mind you. This gentleman, who is very good and takes his job as a fitness instructor very seriously, is a former body builder and football player.

Apparently, my legs, abs and back still retain some strength from riding. However, as my horse trainer had always told me, if I used my arms for balance or strength against a half-ton horse I would a) lose and b) not be a good partner to my horse. It would seem I took this advice to heart, because my arms and shoulders have about as much strength in them as a wet noodle. I thought lifting bales of hay, tack, and all the other tasks common in the horse world would have helped, but apparently not anywhere close to the development of the muscles used in riding.

The personal trainer designed an exercise program to address this problem. When I'm working on the upper body, about 10% of the time he has to put his hand under mine and push for me to be able to lift the weights he's assigned me (which is totally embarrassing), but hey, I have to start somewhere. Looks like years of riding are paying off everywhere else, though. Unfortunately, since the muscle is there he keeps increasing the weight!

One advantage of having ridden with a hunter/jumper trainer for so many years is that I'm used to a trainer setting goals for me and following orders, even if I'm gritting my teeth with pain. Yes, it hurt to jump without reins or stirrups, especially when I landed on the ground, but it felt great when my balance was right there and I was sailing over the fence with my horse. Somehow, doing sets of 15 reps with my scrawny arms just doesn't give the same sense of satisfaction.

My guess is that up in heaven somewhere my beloved equine partners Topper and Spencer are cheering me on saying 'Come on, you can do it, Mom.' Of course, they may be cheering on the personal trainer in the gym instead. They do know from years of experience that Mom is basically a chicken.

I consulted with a nutritionist, too. She suggested burning my old diet book from the 1980s that I pulled out to show her. Instead she put me on a sensible diet. We'll see how it goes!

Cheers,
Mary

It's the Little Things that Get You to the Big Things

UPDATE:

I didn't lose any weight this week. Darn. Then I've had company all weekend (my primary writing time) so I'm way behind on my pages count with 22. I will achieve my riding goal. I've ridden three times and am off to the barn this AM for my fourth. So not too bad, I guess.

It's the little things...

As I mentioned I have a guest this weekend. My long-time friend and former college roommate came to stay the weekend because she wanted to audit a Buck Brannaman clinic about 30 miles away. So instead of writing and riding I went with her.

I have mixed feelings about natural horsemanship trainers, having worked with many in the past, but I'm going to avoid that topic and save it for another post down the road. As a friend of mine often says: Beware of cowboys with websites! (Sounds like a good title for future post.)

Regardless, I've read two of Buck's books, The Faraway Horses and Believe. I thoroughly enjoyed them and would recommend them even if you're not into natural horsemanship. I have a lot of respect for the message he conveys in those books.

The auditing fee for this clinic was $25 a day, not exactly cheap, even for someone like me who's used to doing dressage and paying the outrageous fees some dressage trainers charge. The clinic in the AM was for beginners. The afternoon clinic was for advanced horses with some rope work, etc., in it.

So, here I am, sitting for six hours in a clammy cold arena, getting a sore butt, and feeling guilty because I'm not riding my horse or working on my book. I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around some of his training methods because some are in direct opposition to what I've learned in 25-plus years of dressage instruction, some are exactly the same with different terminology. But hey, there are many different right ways to get results from horses. Most of his cues were invisible, and I can appreciate good horsemanship, so I found that part fascinating. Buck, himself, is charming and entertaining with his western drawl and no-nonsense advice on horsemanship, not to mention his sense of humor.

But I'm rambling, again. As all the things I should be doing are running through my mind, including writing this column, I realize that this week's topic is sitting on his horse in the arena. I start writing down Buck's quotes and cowboy wisdom. Granted, most of it is common sense and so obvious that we tend to miss it as we over-analyze things. But here are my quotes from Buck's clinic:

• Every day I hope your horse will make you a little bit better rider.
• It's the little things that get you to the big things.
• When it works, get out.
• Don't ask questions of your horse that you don't already know the answer to. Prepare.
• If you aren't willing to do the work to fix it, then live with it.
• These clinics are my laboratory. I learn something from every horse.
• If I'd only had experience with good horses, I couldn't be doing this for a living.
• Most people do just enough to be annoying to the horse, but not effective.
• A rider with presence has feel coming through them to the horse.
• If you don't ride enough then nothing you do is going to make a difference, no matter how correct it is.

Have a great week everyone and ride that horse!!!!

Life With Horses....Now

By Laura Crum


As those of you who have read my posts here and/or my ten mystery novels featuring equine veterinarian Gail McCarthy already know, I’ve spent most of my life with horses. I grew up riding horses on our family ranch, I spent my twenties cowboying on a cattle ranch and training and competing on cutting and reining horses, and my thirties competing at team roping. Along the way I’ve broken and trained many colts (for myself and others), horse packed across the Sierra Nevada Mts numerous times, and hey, even showed jumping horses as a teenager. I’ve owned and loved many good horses in my life; currently I have eleven. So I think I can say with some fairness that although I was never a world caliber rider by any means, I have as much or more experience with horses as many horsemen (or horsewomen) who bill themselves as experts.

Whether these experts are trainers or horse bloggers, clinicians or authors of some kind, they all have opinions, some of which I agree with and some of which I don’t. While reading a horse blog the other day, I came across the blogger’s description of how to catch a difficult horse. Now I believe this gal is reasonably knowledgeable; nonetheless my first thought was, “that’s sure not how I would do it.” I considered posting a comment to that effect, complete with a description of how I would do it, but then decided, why bother? She has her opinion; I have mine. And more and more, at fifty-one years of age, after a lifetime spent owning and training horses, I do it my own way, with no regard for what anyone else thinks. (And I try to make space for others to do the same—which means not proffering unasked for advice to the lady with the blog about horse catching.)

Yes, that’s me in the photo, which was taken just this last summer. Those of you who read my May post titled “The New Horse” will probably recognize Sunny, the little “palomino plug” I bought to ride the trails with my seven year old son. And in case anybody’s wondering, yes, I ride him in Ugg boots and cargo pants. Very comfortable—not at all PC by horseman’s rules.

I do realize that the boots have no heels and most of the horse world would say it was dangerous to ride in them. Folks, I ride in sandals, sometimes even in flip flops, in the summer. Its not that I don’t know the rules. Having trained horses and competed in contests for so many years, I can’t possibly count up the hours I’ve spent in cowboy boots, Wrangler jeans, pressed long-sleeved shirt, cowboy hat…etc And you know what? I’m not planning on going there again.

Today horses are part of my life in a different way. I no longer dress up to “do” horse activities; I don’t drive to my horses in someone else’s barn. I rarely haul them anywhere in my trailer (believe me, after hauling horses around the western United States for twenty years, the trailer does not look very appealing to me)> My horses live with me: I can see their corrals from my front porch. I feed them night and morning (sometimes in a sarong and sandals); I ride them out my front gate and through the hills in whatever comfortable clothes I have on. They graze around me as I work in the garden and nicker to remind me when I’m late with breakfast or dinner.

I don’t mean to heap scorn on the idea of boots and/or hardhats or other items relating to safety. I would never ride a green horse or a rank horse in anything other than proper boots. My son wears a helmet when he rides and has tapaderos on his saddle, which I highly recommend for kids. I definitely believe that its best to err on the side of caution if you are a novice rider, and especially with children. But at this point in my career, I’m perfectly comfortable on/around my broke horses in Ugg boots, sandals… you name it. And I take deep pleasure in how comfortable I am with my horses now. They are part of the fabric of my life in a way that’s hard to explain if you haven’t experienced it. Those who have will understand.

At a “girl’s night out” not too long ago with two fellow horsewomen who have been at it as long as I have and have reached a similar (but not exactly the same, of course) point in our thinking, the thrust of our conversation was mostly about how enjoyable this stage of life with horses is. Yes, none of us are as good at riding as we once were, all of us have given up competing, two of us are stout, two of us have back problems…the list goes on. But we are all having so much more fun with our horses, now that we aren’t so driven to compete, to improve, to excel…etc.

In short, after a lifetime spent with horses, and a few trophies to prove I was once a decent trainer and competitor in some pretty demanding events, I can honestly say that this is the very best part. Or my favorite part, anyway. My life with horses right now, as a plump fifty-one year old mama riding a little palomino plug down the trail wearing my comfortable Ugg boots, with my son following me on his old, gentle horse, headed back to our small horse ranch where the other equines (and dog, cats, chickens, vegetable garden, not to mention husband) are waiting….this is the life with horses that I want now.
Cheers,
Laura Crum

Campfire Stories....With Horses

by Laura Crum


Reading Mugwump's blog yesterday, her story about hobbles reminded me vividly of some of my horse packing experiences. I told one of my "hobbles stories" in the comments there, and a few people asked about the way I kept my horses in camp on pack trips. This brought so many stories to mind that I thought I'd tell a few here.

First, a little background. I spent a couple of years working at a pack station on Sonora Pass in California's Sierra Nevada Mts in my early twenties. (This would be about thirty years ago.) Then, in my thirties, I spent many summers packing into the mountains with friends. We taught our more phlegmatic horses to carry the pack rigs, and fortunately I had a friend who was good at packing (which is somewhat of an art) and had the gear. Our team roping horses became sure-footed on the rock after a few shorter, easier trips, and we went on to do many longer (two week) trips, crossing numerous passes and visiting many high mountain lakes. These adventures form the basis of my fifth mystery, Slickrock.

As for how we kept the horses in camp, well, as I said on mugwump's blog, some horses will stay in camp (turned loose) and some won't. Unfortunately you often find out who are the trustworthy ones the hard way. Our usual habit was to put half the horses on run lines, or zip lines, and turn the other half loose. Usually this worked well....except for the times it didn't.

I remember one trip when a friend and I had gone in to a favorite meadow. There was a pretty creek and a lot of feed here; a horse could graze his fill. We had two reliable horses and the friend was riding a new horse, a red roan mare named Shiloh. Shiloh hadn't been on any trips that we knew of, but she was a ranch raised horse and gentle and we thought she'd be fine. We were careful, though, and when it came Shiloh's turn to be loose, we tied up both the other horses, so she'd have no excuse to wander far.

Well, we unclipped the lead rope from Shiloh's halter and she looked around the meadow with interest. She studied the creek, and her buddies on the tie lines, and our camp. She looked at the trail. And she put her ears forward and started into a long, swinging walk. Down the trail.

My friend and I looked at each other. This wasn't good. Surely she'll stop and graze, we said. Nope. Shiloh walked in a purposeful, determined way down the trail, across the meadow, and out of our sight. We flipped a coin to see who would go after her.

My friend lost and I stayed in camp with our other horses while he trailed the mare. Fortunately she ran into a party of hikers not a mile down the trail. They were standing there wondering what to do with this roan mare they'd caught when my friend retrieved her. Needless to say we didn't turn that horse loose again.

The funniest "campfire story" concerns a horse we called Lester. This was a lively, restless gelding; I often referred to him as our ADD horse. The first time we turned Lester loose on a pack trip, he looked around, lifted his head, and started out away from camp in the long trot, which quickly escalated to the gallop. My friend and I looked at each other with that "oh no" look on our faces. Lester galloped across the meadow and we waited for him to hit the trail back through the woods. But just as he was almost out of sight, he stopped. Whirling around, he galloped back across the meadow, straight at us.

Our "oh no" looks turned to "what the hell" looks, as that horse proceed to gallop right through the middle of camp, leaping over the fire (I kid you not) and out across the meadow again. On his next pass he went through the woods behind camp, jumping a log that was at least three foot six in diameter. He kept galloping around until he'd had enough (you would have thought he'd be tired after the ride in) and then settled down to graze. And we all gave a big sigh of relief. Turned out this became a routine with this horse. I can't count the number of times he ran through camp, often jumping the fire. We'd yell, "Here he comes!" and get out of the way. But he never once took off on us.

So, a couple of campfire stories for a winter's day. I'll try and post a few more pack trip tales later, for those who are interested.


Happy Holidays!