First of all, the publishing industry like everything else is in dire straits. Please consider giving books for Christmas. There are tons of great horse books out there for your horsey friends or yourself. In fact, I'm going to start a post next weekend which lists great horse books to give as gifts. I'd like all of you to post a comment with at least one suggestion. So be thinking about it.
Oh, man, I am not doing well in the weight loss department. I know I've put on a few pounds this week. Maybe I should be grateful it's only a few. I'm going to continue in the New Year because I'm determined to get this fat off.
In the riding department, I also sucked this week. I only rode once and that was in a lesson, though I had the return of an epiphany. It was the best ride I've had on that horse in a long time. The shying is pretty much gone, and I can now concentrate on my riding again rather than getting her in the corner.
In the writing department, I finished a first draft of Fourth and Goal by writing 16,000 words this week!!! Yahoo!!! The writing is why I haven't reached my other two goals. I've been sitting on my butt trying the finish the darn book.
Now about my revelation. I am a puller. My horse is a puller. My trainer says the mare was inherently predispositioned to be a puller so it isn't entirely on me. Unfortunately, I, too, am instinctually a puller. Since I've been concentrating on the shying for the past two months, all my bad riding habits have returned full-force. I'm guessing because I've been in reactionary mode. For one, I'm hauling on the left rein when going to the right so hard that my poor horse can't turn a circle. Worst of all, I'm pulling and Gailey's pulling.
I've been so frustrated with all of it, that I truly considered retiring the horse and myself from dressage, but I'm not a quitter. So I kept at it, often dreading getting on her back. In my last lesson, we worked on my pulling. I wasn't allowed to pull. At first, that was Gailey's cue to fall on her forehand and go faster, her favorite evasion (even more than shying). So we did leg yeilds, haunches-in, shoulder-in, transitions, and half-passes everywhere in the arena. When I'm doing that stuff, I ride better. I acutally ride both sides of the horse and use my legs, seat, and hands; instead of just hands. After about 20 minutes of this, the first ten being very frustrating, I felt a connection. Tenuous, it came and went, but it was there.
Again.
Finally.
And when it was there, it was the greatest feeling on earth. To have a horse light and listening and totally connected to its rider is the reason I do dressage. I'm so glad that I had a little reminder that all is not lost, and I can do this despite the setbacks.
So happy winter riding everyone! And next week, I'm back in the saddle.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
My Current Goals
By Laura Crum
Lately some of my fellow authors on this site have been posting about their goals. Losing weight, getting fit, getting their horses ridden regularly, getting their next book written. All great goals. People write in the comments here about their goals; I read mugwump’s blog and hear about all the goals people have with their horses. I am impressed. I wonder, what are my goals?
Uhmm…I’d like to lose weight, sure. Am I willing to diet? No. I’m way too much of a hedonist to diet. I love good food and drink. (Margaritas, anyone?) I do try to exercise regularly by hiking the trails as often as I ride them, but this is a goal I don’t often achieve. Last week I rode five times and hiked once. Hmmm.. My horse is getting fit, anyway. No, I can’t exactly call getting fit a goal. At least not a goal that I’m doing much to achieve.
How about writing my next book? Yep, I am writing my next book. I really am. Sometimes. And then I hear my fellow authors talking about how many pages they wrote last week. Oh dear. Some weeks I get a chapter done. Lots of weeks I get nothing written at all. I’m not a very disciplined writer. As the deadline approaches, I crank it out. That’s my pattern. I hope it works this time.
But yes, it is a goal of mine to finish book #11 in my mystery series and turn it in at the specified deadline. I’m just not motivated to do it in a methodical fashion. I guess this counts as a goal.
As for the horses, when I say I rode five times last week, you might think I was pretty goal oriented there. The unfortunate truth is that I ride when I feel like it, and the weather was beautiful last week so I felt like riding. And what sort of riding are we talking about? Nothing too demanding. My current riding is limited to cruising my little plug of a trail horse through the hills or along the beach in the company of my eight year old son. When you consider that I used to show cutting horses and compete at team roping, it sounds pretty tame.
Yep, that’s me in the above photos. Winning the cutting at the county fair on Gunner, a horse I trained myself, and turning a steer for my good friend Sue Crocker on Flanigan, one of the best rope horses I ever had the privilege to ride. (Sue is on Pistol, another great horse.) Those of you who have read my mystery series may recognize these horses; they’ve all become characters in my books.
This next photo was taken last week. We had an 80 degree November day and took the horses down for a ride on the beach. Big fun for me and my son, but not exactly in the same league as what I used to do with my horses. My goals with my horses these days? Use what’s left of my (much diminished) riding skills to have fun with my kid. Cruise through the landscape on a steady horse and enjoy it. That’s it. Not too ambitious.
The truth is that I really am fine with my relatively unambitious lifestyle, but every now and then, listening to others, I wonder that I seem so unmotivated these days. Am I content and tranquil? A zen horsewoman/ enlightened mama/ relaxed author? Or am I just lazy? I really don’t know.
I can remember the effort and energy I used to put into my riding and writing; I was pushing and striving, trying hard all the time. I’m much happier now. At this point all my pursuits flow relatively easily and naturally….but I’m sure not getting as much done. Is this a good thing or a bad thing?
Since tomorrow is Thanksgiving, I think my current goal is just to be grateful for what I have. My family, my animals, including my reliable little trail horse, my home, my pasture, my career as a mystery author, which still engages me, even my relatively healthy, if slightly too ample body….all these are things I am thankful for every day. Maybe I don’t need to worry about what I don’t have, seeing as I have so much.
You tell me….
Happy Thanksgiving!
Laura Crum
Lately some of my fellow authors on this site have been posting about their goals. Losing weight, getting fit, getting their horses ridden regularly, getting their next book written. All great goals. People write in the comments here about their goals; I read mugwump’s blog and hear about all the goals people have with their horses. I am impressed. I wonder, what are my goals?
Uhmm…I’d like to lose weight, sure. Am I willing to diet? No. I’m way too much of a hedonist to diet. I love good food and drink. (Margaritas, anyone?) I do try to exercise regularly by hiking the trails as often as I ride them, but this is a goal I don’t often achieve. Last week I rode five times and hiked once. Hmmm.. My horse is getting fit, anyway. No, I can’t exactly call getting fit a goal. At least not a goal that I’m doing much to achieve.
How about writing my next book? Yep, I am writing my next book. I really am. Sometimes. And then I hear my fellow authors talking about how many pages they wrote last week. Oh dear. Some weeks I get a chapter done. Lots of weeks I get nothing written at all. I’m not a very disciplined writer. As the deadline approaches, I crank it out. That’s my pattern. I hope it works this time.
But yes, it is a goal of mine to finish book #11 in my mystery series and turn it in at the specified deadline. I’m just not motivated to do it in a methodical fashion. I guess this counts as a goal.
As for the horses, when I say I rode five times last week, you might think I was pretty goal oriented there. The unfortunate truth is that I ride when I feel like it, and the weather was beautiful last week so I felt like riding. And what sort of riding are we talking about? Nothing too demanding. My current riding is limited to cruising my little plug of a trail horse through the hills or along the beach in the company of my eight year old son. When you consider that I used to show cutting horses and compete at team roping, it sounds pretty tame.
Yep, that’s me in the above photos. Winning the cutting at the county fair on Gunner, a horse I trained myself, and turning a steer for my good friend Sue Crocker on Flanigan, one of the best rope horses I ever had the privilege to ride. (Sue is on Pistol, another great horse.) Those of you who have read my mystery series may recognize these horses; they’ve all become characters in my books.
This next photo was taken last week. We had an 80 degree November day and took the horses down for a ride on the beach. Big fun for me and my son, but not exactly in the same league as what I used to do with my horses. My goals with my horses these days? Use what’s left of my (much diminished) riding skills to have fun with my kid. Cruise through the landscape on a steady horse and enjoy it. That’s it. Not too ambitious.
The truth is that I really am fine with my relatively unambitious lifestyle, but every now and then, listening to others, I wonder that I seem so unmotivated these days. Am I content and tranquil? A zen horsewoman/ enlightened mama/ relaxed author? Or am I just lazy? I really don’t know.
I can remember the effort and energy I used to put into my riding and writing; I was pushing and striving, trying hard all the time. I’m much happier now. At this point all my pursuits flow relatively easily and naturally….but I’m sure not getting as much done. Is this a good thing or a bad thing?
Since tomorrow is Thanksgiving, I think my current goal is just to be grateful for what I have. My family, my animals, including my reliable little trail horse, my home, my pasture, my career as a mystery author, which still engages me, even my relatively healthy, if slightly too ample body….all these are things I am thankful for every day. Maybe I don’t need to worry about what I don’t have, seeing as I have so much.
You tell me….
Happy Thanksgiving!
Laura Crum
Monday, November 24, 2008
My Mystery Mare
I've written before about my mare Krissy. She's a 16 hand TB/Warmblood cross and has been jumped a ton. She's twelve and my goal with her is to become a better rider and just enjoy her. I wouldn't mind doing some hunter shows next year, but we'll see, because Krissy is a mystery.
She goes great for a few weeks and then winds up lame on the left hind usually at about a 3. The vet has blocked her all the way up to the stifle and we still have not figured this thing out. Nothing shows up. We've also considered that she had a pelvic break but her muscling would be different than it is. I can't seem to get a hold of any old vet records, because she was a rescue horse. We're considering possible arthritis in the fetlock. She has been injected in her hocks, but when we blocked the fetlock she doesn't show much difference--there is a little bit though. I'm thinking of going ahead and starting her on a protocol of monthly IV Legend. Right now, the expense is hurting me, but I think you can all relate that our horses are much like our children. We'd go to pretty much any lengths to make them comfortable and happy. Krissy has such a sweet disposition and is a hard and honest worker that I hate not to find the answer here. I wish she could talk! How may of you have ever said that?!? It seriously would make a horse owner's life much easier.
I think one of the most difficult things about having a horse with some chronic issue (like a lameness) is the emotional toll it takes on the owner. This has been such an up and down ride. As I mentioned she goes great for weeks and then pulls up stiff and off. When she's great, she is really great and happy, but when she isn't it's hard. It happened again on Saturday. For the past two weeks we were moving ahead and only doing flat work, got her into the arena this past weekend, and once I pushed her up into the trot, it was very obvious something was brewing again. My heart sank, but I am determined to figure this out with her and the vet.
Have any of you had any chronic issues with your horse(s) that was a mystery or remained a mystery? If so, I'd love to hear how you handled it. And, if you have any inkling as to what my horse has going on, please--I'm open to all suggestions.
Cheers,
Michele
www.michelescott.com
P.S. New releases out in February are: Corked by Cabernet and under my psuedonym M.K. Scott (for children's books,;ages 7-12) Zamora's Ultimate Challenge. Check out excerpts on my site.
She goes great for a few weeks and then winds up lame on the left hind usually at about a 3. The vet has blocked her all the way up to the stifle and we still have not figured this thing out. Nothing shows up. We've also considered that she had a pelvic break but her muscling would be different than it is. I can't seem to get a hold of any old vet records, because she was a rescue horse. We're considering possible arthritis in the fetlock. She has been injected in her hocks, but when we blocked the fetlock she doesn't show much difference--there is a little bit though. I'm thinking of going ahead and starting her on a protocol of monthly IV Legend. Right now, the expense is hurting me, but I think you can all relate that our horses are much like our children. We'd go to pretty much any lengths to make them comfortable and happy. Krissy has such a sweet disposition and is a hard and honest worker that I hate not to find the answer here. I wish she could talk! How may of you have ever said that?!? It seriously would make a horse owner's life much easier.
I think one of the most difficult things about having a horse with some chronic issue (like a lameness) is the emotional toll it takes on the owner. This has been such an up and down ride. As I mentioned she goes great for weeks and then pulls up stiff and off. When she's great, she is really great and happy, but when she isn't it's hard. It happened again on Saturday. For the past two weeks we were moving ahead and only doing flat work, got her into the arena this past weekend, and once I pushed her up into the trot, it was very obvious something was brewing again. My heart sank, but I am determined to figure this out with her and the vet.
Have any of you had any chronic issues with your horse(s) that was a mystery or remained a mystery? If so, I'd love to hear how you handled it. And, if you have any inkling as to what my horse has going on, please--I'm open to all suggestions.
Cheers,
Michele
www.michelescott.com
P.S. New releases out in February are: Corked by Cabernet and under my psuedonym M.K. Scott (for children's books,;ages 7-12) Zamora's Ultimate Challenge. Check out excerpts on my site.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
The Shying Mare
First, my update. I did ride 3 times this week, and my trainer rode twice. I also lost a pound. Not great but an improvement. How's everyone else doing?
Another thing, the publishing industry is in dire straits right now (as is most of the country). Consider giving books for Christmas. They're great gifts, travel well, last a long time, and there's something for everyone.
I mentioned in a previous post that my mare is driving me NUTS with her shying. This happens every year in the winter. The rest of the year, she's fine. She picks a corner and absolutely freaks over it. It's not always the same corner either. This year my barn added muck buckets and manure forks to each corner so we could clean up our poop when we finish riding. I knew I was in deep do-do when I saw those in the corners. I was right. For the past month, I have spent a good portion of each ride working on getting my mare in the corners, or even the end of the arena. I was losing patience. My trainer was losing patience. We haven't been able to work on anything other than that. So much for flying changes or half passes. I can't even ge the %^$$^ mare in the corners.
Believe me, we tried everything. I even tried a suggestion from my friend who does natural horsemanship. Back up every time she balks in the corner and keep backing. Well, it made sense because backing is harder than going forward. Not with this mare. She'll back around the entire arena all day long.
Finally, Kari, my trainer, suggested a possible solution she's used before. I hung a bucket in the "shying" corner and put grain in it. Every few times we went by that corner, I'd half pass her to the bucket and let her have a taste of grain. My mare is a PIG. Loves her grain. Needless to say, she's no longer shying in the corner. She wants to go in the corner and is now actually going too deep in the corners.
Today she gets clipped for the winter, which actually makes her unsually hot and forward thinking. I guess I'd better remember to hang on.
What odd solutions have any of you used for an on-going problem?
Another thing, the publishing industry is in dire straits right now (as is most of the country). Consider giving books for Christmas. They're great gifts, travel well, last a long time, and there's something for everyone.
I mentioned in a previous post that my mare is driving me NUTS with her shying. This happens every year in the winter. The rest of the year, she's fine. She picks a corner and absolutely freaks over it. It's not always the same corner either. This year my barn added muck buckets and manure forks to each corner so we could clean up our poop when we finish riding. I knew I was in deep do-do when I saw those in the corners. I was right. For the past month, I have spent a good portion of each ride working on getting my mare in the corners, or even the end of the arena. I was losing patience. My trainer was losing patience. We haven't been able to work on anything other than that. So much for flying changes or half passes. I can't even ge the %^$$^ mare in the corners.
Believe me, we tried everything. I even tried a suggestion from my friend who does natural horsemanship. Back up every time she balks in the corner and keep backing. Well, it made sense because backing is harder than going forward. Not with this mare. She'll back around the entire arena all day long.
Finally, Kari, my trainer, suggested a possible solution she's used before. I hung a bucket in the "shying" corner and put grain in it. Every few times we went by that corner, I'd half pass her to the bucket and let her have a taste of grain. My mare is a PIG. Loves her grain. Needless to say, she's no longer shying in the corner. She wants to go in the corner and is now actually going too deep in the corners.
Today she gets clipped for the winter, which actually makes her unsually hot and forward thinking. I guess I'd better remember to hang on.
What odd solutions have any of you used for an on-going problem?
Friday, November 21, 2008
If you don't go to the party... Guest Blogger--Francesca Prescott
It gives me great pleasure to introduce a dear friend of mine, who is a fellow horsewoman and and debut writer, Francesa Prescott.
I live in Switzerland, in a small village just outside Geneva, with my husband, two teenage children, a giant Yorkshire Terrier, and a gluttonous Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. Kwintus, my horse, lives about fifteen minutes away. I started writing about ten years ago when a friend of mine launched a magazine aimed at Geneva’s ex-pat community and asked me whether I’d like to contribute. I’d always enjoyed writing, so I wrote a couple of articles and sent them in. Not only were they accepted, but when they were published I began to receive fan mail. I must be the only author on the planet whose first paycheck for a published piece was a voucher for a pedicure from a fan!
"MUCHO CALIENTE! - Wish upon a Latino Superstar"
Available from BookStrand
If you don’t go to the party, you don’t get a balloon!
My niece Flaminia once said, “If you don’t go to the party, you don’t get a balloon.” She was only about seven or eight at the time (she’s twelve now), and I doubt she realized how profound her words actually were. But her spontaneous words of wisdom reflect her personality. Flaminia is a clever, determined little girl who doesn’t just rise to challenges, she creates them. And when she goes to parties, she comes home with fistfuls of balloons.
I like balloons too. The trouble is: I’m a chicken crossed with a scaredy cat. Put me in a challenging, unfamiliar situation and I feel the fear. My half-Italian origins erupt in my armpits, my pulse risks a speed ticket, my bladder becomes super demanding. My instincts urge me to never say boo to a sparrow, let alone a goose. My list of favorite things read like that annoying song in The Sound of Music (which is now going to be stuck in my head all day… grrrr).
But life isn’t all whiskers on kittens and when the tough gets going, retail therapy doesn’t provide any answers. As my dressage teacher says (when Kwintus, my horse, has personal opinions that clash with mine), “Push him through it.” Five hundred kilos of equines opinions can be daunting, but when the argument ceases and harmony prevails, there’s no feeling like it.
“You should enter Kwintus in the competition this weekend,” said Pam, my dressage teacher’s daughter, shortly after having seen me enjoying a particularly harmonious equestrian moment. “He’s going really well. It would be a pity not to.”
My heart skipped the country and raced off along a German motorway (German motorways have no speed limits). My bladder threatened to pull the plug. What? Me? Compete? No! I suck! I don’t know the dressage program. And even if by some miracle I manage to learn it, I’ll get inside the arena and forget it. I’ll fall off. I’ll throw up in front of the judges. Besides, I’ve gained weight and my white jodhpurs won’t fit me. I need new ones (retail therapy!), but the shop closes in an hour and they probably won’t have my size anyway.
Pam raised an eyebrow and gave me one of her sly smiles. She’s not a chicken crossed with a scaredy cat. She’s one hundred percent lioness.
“Sure you can! Come on! Just learn the program and leave the rest up to Kwintus. He’s a pro. He’ll take care of you,” she said, striding off in her shiny boots.
My heartbeat stayed on the German autobahn. I was torn. Half of me wanted to rise to the challenge, to show the world what a fabulous horse I have. The other half wanted to hide in a soft cozy place until the horsey weekend was over and it was safe to practice my flying changes incognito again.
But Kwintus nuzzled me. I looked into his kind, brown eyes, stroked his soft, cozy nose and decided he deserved to show off the smooth moves he’d been so generously sharing with me. With my heartbeat still powering towards Hamburg and my body as floppy as a soft toy, I staggered off to find Pam and stammered something about being up for it. Then I hopped into my car and rushed off to the horse equipment shop to buy new jodhpurs.
They didn’t have my size.
Oh well! Never mind. That’s that, then! I cruised home, certain that I’d never get into my old ones. I’d just have to phone Pam and tell her I couldn’t ride the competition. Saved by excess blubber!
The old ones fit perfectly.
Panic set in again. I printed out a copy of the dressage program and started prancing around an imaginary arena in the garden while my husband looked on, shaking his head and laughing his pert little bottom off. I ignored him and continued to prance, stopping only when I was I’d been brainwashed to enter at A, halt at X, etc… I didn’t sleep well and was a basket case throughout Saturday. Heck, I couldn’t even breathe properly. All I could think about was how terrified I was about riding Kwint in front of the judges first thing Sunday morning.
But when I woke up Sunday morning, something inside me felt different. My heart had given up speeding and was gradually cruising home. I was ready to go to the party. And I really fancied a balloon…
“I can do this,” I repeated over and over to myself, driving towards the stables at the crack of dawn.
And I did. I held it together. I didn’t suck. I didn’t vomit. I didn’t fall off. And people actually cheered and clapped when I made my final salute. I dropped my reins and gave my horse a hug. I even gave him a kiss. He deserved it. And what do you know? We finished in third place, coming away with more than just a balloon.
I’m not going to wax lyrical on the moral of this story; it’s not exactly a psychological breakthrough. Nike said it all in their famous slogan: “Just do it!”
All I’m saying is that some challenges are worth getting hot and flustered for. Winning my husband’s heart and raising a family together are obvious examples. Getting my first book, Mucho Caliente!, published is another example that springs to mind. I may be a chicken crossed with a scaredy cat but, increasingly, I realize I have a quiet resilience that can get me through tough moments and frustrating situations. Not only do I dare to dream, I also dare to do. It’s exhilarating, though no less terrifying. My half Italian origins will always erupt in my armpits. So what? I’ll just buy extra strength deodorant! My bladder will continue to make unreasonable demands. Pff! I’ll engage my pelvic floor! Dealing with my speed buff heart will be more of a challenge, but I’m pretty sure that, sooner or later, the German government will impose speed restrictions on its motorways. And when it does, my pulse won’t have any more reason to skip the border, and will instead cruise calmly ever after along our radar infested Swiss motorways. I hope so, because it would certainly take the edge off bringing balloons home from parties.
Francesca Prescott
My niece Flaminia once said, “If you don’t go to the party, you don’t get a balloon.” She was only about seven or eight at the time (she’s twelve now), and I doubt she realized how profound her words actually were. But her spontaneous words of wisdom reflect her personality. Flaminia is a clever, determined little girl who doesn’t just rise to challenges, she creates them. And when she goes to parties, she comes home with fistfuls of balloons.
I like balloons too. The trouble is: I’m a chicken crossed with a scaredy cat. Put me in a challenging, unfamiliar situation and I feel the fear. My half-Italian origins erupt in my armpits, my pulse risks a speed ticket, my bladder becomes super demanding. My instincts urge me to never say boo to a sparrow, let alone a goose. My list of favorite things read like that annoying song in The Sound of Music (which is now going to be stuck in my head all day… grrrr).
But life isn’t all whiskers on kittens and when the tough gets going, retail therapy doesn’t provide any answers. As my dressage teacher says (when Kwintus, my horse, has personal opinions that clash with mine), “Push him through it.” Five hundred kilos of equines opinions can be daunting, but when the argument ceases and harmony prevails, there’s no feeling like it.
“You should enter Kwintus in the competition this weekend,” said Pam, my dressage teacher’s daughter, shortly after having seen me enjoying a particularly harmonious equestrian moment. “He’s going really well. It would be a pity not to.”
My heart skipped the country and raced off along a German motorway (German motorways have no speed limits). My bladder threatened to pull the plug. What? Me? Compete? No! I suck! I don’t know the dressage program. And even if by some miracle I manage to learn it, I’ll get inside the arena and forget it. I’ll fall off. I’ll throw up in front of the judges. Besides, I’ve gained weight and my white jodhpurs won’t fit me. I need new ones (retail therapy!), but the shop closes in an hour and they probably won’t have my size anyway.
Pam raised an eyebrow and gave me one of her sly smiles. She’s not a chicken crossed with a scaredy cat. She’s one hundred percent lioness.
“Sure you can! Come on! Just learn the program and leave the rest up to Kwintus. He’s a pro. He’ll take care of you,” she said, striding off in her shiny boots.
My heartbeat stayed on the German autobahn. I was torn. Half of me wanted to rise to the challenge, to show the world what a fabulous horse I have. The other half wanted to hide in a soft cozy place until the horsey weekend was over and it was safe to practice my flying changes incognito again.
But Kwintus nuzzled me. I looked into his kind, brown eyes, stroked his soft, cozy nose and decided he deserved to show off the smooth moves he’d been so generously sharing with me. With my heartbeat still powering towards Hamburg and my body as floppy as a soft toy, I staggered off to find Pam and stammered something about being up for it. Then I hopped into my car and rushed off to the horse equipment shop to buy new jodhpurs.
They didn’t have my size.
Oh well! Never mind. That’s that, then! I cruised home, certain that I’d never get into my old ones. I’d just have to phone Pam and tell her I couldn’t ride the competition. Saved by excess blubber!
The old ones fit perfectly.
Panic set in again. I printed out a copy of the dressage program and started prancing around an imaginary arena in the garden while my husband looked on, shaking his head and laughing his pert little bottom off. I ignored him and continued to prance, stopping only when I was I’d been brainwashed to enter at A, halt at X, etc… I didn’t sleep well and was a basket case throughout Saturday. Heck, I couldn’t even breathe properly. All I could think about was how terrified I was about riding Kwint in front of the judges first thing Sunday morning.
But when I woke up Sunday morning, something inside me felt different. My heart had given up speeding and was gradually cruising home. I was ready to go to the party. And I really fancied a balloon…
“I can do this,” I repeated over and over to myself, driving towards the stables at the crack of dawn.
And I did. I held it together. I didn’t suck. I didn’t vomit. I didn’t fall off. And people actually cheered and clapped when I made my final salute. I dropped my reins and gave my horse a hug. I even gave him a kiss. He deserved it. And what do you know? We finished in third place, coming away with more than just a balloon.
I’m not going to wax lyrical on the moral of this story; it’s not exactly a psychological breakthrough. Nike said it all in their famous slogan: “Just do it!”
All I’m saying is that some challenges are worth getting hot and flustered for. Winning my husband’s heart and raising a family together are obvious examples. Getting my first book, Mucho Caliente!, published is another example that springs to mind. I may be a chicken crossed with a scaredy cat but, increasingly, I realize I have a quiet resilience that can get me through tough moments and frustrating situations. Not only do I dare to dream, I also dare to do. It’s exhilarating, though no less terrifying. My half Italian origins will always erupt in my armpits. So what? I’ll just buy extra strength deodorant! My bladder will continue to make unreasonable demands. Pff! I’ll engage my pelvic floor! Dealing with my speed buff heart will be more of a challenge, but I’m pretty sure that, sooner or later, the German government will impose speed restrictions on its motorways. And when it does, my pulse won’t have any more reason to skip the border, and will instead cruise calmly ever after along our radar infested Swiss motorways. I hope so, because it would certainly take the edge off bringing balloons home from parties.
Francesca Prescott
I live in Switzerland, in a small village just outside Geneva, with my husband, two teenage children, a giant Yorkshire Terrier, and a gluttonous Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. Kwintus, my horse, lives about fifteen minutes away. I started writing about ten years ago when a friend of mine launched a magazine aimed at Geneva’s ex-pat community and asked me whether I’d like to contribute. I’d always enjoyed writing, so I wrote a couple of articles and sent them in. Not only were they accepted, but when they were published I began to receive fan mail. I must be the only author on the planet whose first paycheck for a published piece was a voucher for a pedicure from a fan! "MUCHO CALIENTE! - Wish upon a Latino Superstar"
Available from BookStrand
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Crunch Time
Hi Everyone,
I'm delighted to say I've been sticking to my diet and exercise plan and (drum roll, please) have lost 2 pounds. I do miss my old starve yourself for two weeks and it's all over diet, but I'm sticking to the 'have patience and keep it off' plan.
Right now the urge to a) not diet and b) chuck work and go for a nice autumn hack are knocking at the back of my mind, mostly because it's crunch time with my next book coming out December 3. Before I became a published author I thought you wrote the book, sold it to a publisher and voila, people bought it.
Oh, I was so wrong. Writing the book was the easy part. Of course, when I'm writing a book about horses my imagination takes over and it's a joyous adventure unfolding on the pages. This book, NEVER TRUST A MATCHMAKING WITCH, was especially fun to write because I including magic and comedy in the mix. My witch is an accomplished horsewoman whose hobby is matchmaking for her mortal friends and she's very good at it. She's also extremely wealthy and I had a lot of fun creating the barn of my dreams. The horses in NEVER TRUST A MATCHMAKING WITCH live in an equine version of The Ritz.
Now for the hard part. After polishing a book to a gleam and selling it, the next steps is editing. The book you love comes back covered in requests for changes and improvements. When I received this part I had to put it aside for a day until my heart stopped racing at the amount of work I needed to do in a short time span. I got through this phase with much hair pulling and exhaustion and sent it off with the kind of relief I used to feel in college after finals were over.
Ah, peace. Nope, here come the galleys. Now is the time to go through the book, page by page, looking for any little typo, misspelled word, anything at all that is less than perfect. No pressure here, though. This is also where the author prays no larger errors are found, because changing them at this point is a risky move. It has to go into production very soon.
While all this is going on, there's also promotion. In my fantasy world as an unpublished author I thought one went to some book signings and that was about it. In my real world there is a long list of interviews, online chats, and a plethora of other time-consuming activities an author must do to advertise each release.
Still, even with all this, I absolutely love writing fiction, especially fiction about the horse world. I have a genuine affection for the characters, both magical and mortal, in NEVER TRUST A MATCHMAKING WITCH. I hope you enjoy them as well.
Ah, well, the autumn hack will have to wait. I may indulge in a long, hot bubble bath when today is done with a book by one of my Equestrian Ink buddies!
Cheers,
Mary
www.marypaine.com
I'm delighted to say I've been sticking to my diet and exercise plan and (drum roll, please) have lost 2 pounds. I do miss my old starve yourself for two weeks and it's all over diet, but I'm sticking to the 'have patience and keep it off' plan.
Right now the urge to a) not diet and b) chuck work and go for a nice autumn hack are knocking at the back of my mind, mostly because it's crunch time with my next book coming out December 3. Before I became a published author I thought you wrote the book, sold it to a publisher and voila, people bought it.
Oh, I was so wrong. Writing the book was the easy part. Of course, when I'm writing a book about horses my imagination takes over and it's a joyous adventure unfolding on the pages. This book, NEVER TRUST A MATCHMAKING WITCH, was especially fun to write because I including magic and comedy in the mix. My witch is an accomplished horsewoman whose hobby is matchmaking for her mortal friends and she's very good at it. She's also extremely wealthy and I had a lot of fun creating the barn of my dreams. The horses in NEVER TRUST A MATCHMAKING WITCH live in an equine version of The Ritz.
Now for the hard part. After polishing a book to a gleam and selling it, the next steps is editing. The book you love comes back covered in requests for changes and improvements. When I received this part I had to put it aside for a day until my heart stopped racing at the amount of work I needed to do in a short time span. I got through this phase with much hair pulling and exhaustion and sent it off with the kind of relief I used to feel in college after finals were over.
Ah, peace. Nope, here come the galleys. Now is the time to go through the book, page by page, looking for any little typo, misspelled word, anything at all that is less than perfect. No pressure here, though. This is also where the author prays no larger errors are found, because changing them at this point is a risky move. It has to go into production very soon.
While all this is going on, there's also promotion. In my fantasy world as an unpublished author I thought one went to some book signings and that was about it. In my real world there is a long list of interviews, online chats, and a plethora of other time-consuming activities an author must do to advertise each release.
Still, even with all this, I absolutely love writing fiction, especially fiction about the horse world. I have a genuine affection for the characters, both magical and mortal, in NEVER TRUST A MATCHMAKING WITCH. I hope you enjoy them as well.
Ah, well, the autumn hack will have to wait. I may indulge in a long, hot bubble bath when today is done with a book by one of my Equestrian Ink buddies!
Cheers,
Mary
www.marypaine.com
Monday, November 17, 2008
The Girls . . .
by Kit Ehrman
As I reflect on the last two horses that I had the privilege of owning, my post touches on an earlier subject: geldings versus mares.
My first horses were geldings, the last two mares. When I went looking for my third horse, I was well aware of the “rumor” that mares were annoyingly temperamental, but I decided that I’d give them a try. If my future mare was injured and could no longer be ridden, at least I’d have the option of breeding her.
I must admit, now that I’m better educated on the issues of horse slaughter and equine overproduction, I would not have that mindset today if I were looking for a horse. Breeding a horse is a huge responsibility. You need to be certain that there’s a high demand for the resultant offspring, and you need to be willing and able to socialize and train the colt so that he grows up to be a desirable mount or the horse runs the risk of being unwanted and unsalable.
Okay, I can see I’m all over the place topic-wise tonight, but after researching for my next book, the whole, ugly slaughter issue is on my mind. As I look out my window, at my neighbor’s pasture, I’m reminded of the importance of breeding wisely. They have seven “miniature” horses—a concept I have a hard time understanding--and an unknown (to me) number of horses, and they are rarely handled. I never see a vet’s truck and can’t remember the last time I saw a farrier visit the farm. But they had a miniature stud, and for that very reason, they felt compelled to breed their stock. But where will those unschooled and poorly cared for animals end up if they’re sold? They’d have to be extremely lucky not to find themselves in an auctioneer’s lot.
So, if you’re going to breed your mare, please make sure that she’s a quality, highly-sought after animal, and be prepared to put a lot of time and effort into the foal.
Okay, off my soapbox and on to my lovely mares. My first one was a delicate, dark bay thoroughbred who’d raced but was none too fast. She was a little grumpy and didn’t much care for being groomed, but I had some wonderful rides on her. When she was in the mood, she was like driving a Ferrari. Soft mouth, round back, nice easy gait. I swear, I just had to “think” the move, and she’d do it. When she was relaxed like that, she was a dream to ride. Other days, she’d swish her tail and grind her teeth and generally be a pain in the ass to ride.
So, Missy supported the temperamental myth, all right, but I didn’t care. She was special to me. I know some friends couldn’t see what I “saw” in her, but that was okay. Next time, I’ll tell you about my Appendix Quarter horse mare.
Happy reading and riding,
Kit
www.kitehrman.com
As I reflect on the last two horses that I had the privilege of owning, my post touches on an earlier subject: geldings versus mares.
My first horses were geldings, the last two mares. When I went looking for my third horse, I was well aware of the “rumor” that mares were annoyingly temperamental, but I decided that I’d give them a try. If my future mare was injured and could no longer be ridden, at least I’d have the option of breeding her.
I must admit, now that I’m better educated on the issues of horse slaughter and equine overproduction, I would not have that mindset today if I were looking for a horse. Breeding a horse is a huge responsibility. You need to be certain that there’s a high demand for the resultant offspring, and you need to be willing and able to socialize and train the colt so that he grows up to be a desirable mount or the horse runs the risk of being unwanted and unsalable.
Okay, I can see I’m all over the place topic-wise tonight, but after researching for my next book, the whole, ugly slaughter issue is on my mind. As I look out my window, at my neighbor’s pasture, I’m reminded of the importance of breeding wisely. They have seven “miniature” horses—a concept I have a hard time understanding--and an unknown (to me) number of horses, and they are rarely handled. I never see a vet’s truck and can’t remember the last time I saw a farrier visit the farm. But they had a miniature stud, and for that very reason, they felt compelled to breed their stock. But where will those unschooled and poorly cared for animals end up if they’re sold? They’d have to be extremely lucky not to find themselves in an auctioneer’s lot.
So, if you’re going to breed your mare, please make sure that she’s a quality, highly-sought after animal, and be prepared to put a lot of time and effort into the foal.
Okay, off my soapbox and on to my lovely mares. My first one was a delicate, dark bay thoroughbred who’d raced but was none too fast. She was a little grumpy and didn’t much care for being groomed, but I had some wonderful rides on her. When she was in the mood, she was like driving a Ferrari. Soft mouth, round back, nice easy gait. I swear, I just had to “think” the move, and she’d do it. When she was relaxed like that, she was a dream to ride. Other days, she’d swish her tail and grind her teeth and generally be a pain in the ass to ride.
So, Missy supported the temperamental myth, all right, but I didn’t care. She was special to me. I know some friends couldn’t see what I “saw” in her, but that was okay. Next time, I’ll tell you about my Appendix Quarter horse mare.
Happy reading and riding,
Kit
www.kitehrman.com
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