The Red Filly on Channillo

I recently added the second chapter of The Red Filly, on Channillo.com. Remember all proceeds from subscriptions to the series benefit Becky’s Hope Horse Rescue.

I’m having a lot of fun writing this story, which is inspired by a favorite book from my childhood, The Black Stallion. Although, my goal is not only to write about a girl and her horse, but address social issues as well. I hope to entertain with my writing as well as have a positive impact on society. I am very open to constructive criticism, as I continue to grow and learn as a writer. Thank you guys!

Here’s the link to the series: The Red Filly

Baby Spirit-“The Black Stallion”

AV Olympic Spirit aka Spirit with his mom (dam), Raylee Asasi

This post is just for fun because I received these awesome pictures today from Renee Boeshans, the owner of Spirit’s sire, Affirmativ. Here’s a pic of Affirmativ:

Affirmativ (Andreanov x Cedaridge Folaura)

Affirmativ’s sire, Andreanov:

Andreanov (Negatraz x Andorra)

Affirmativ’s dam, Cedaridge Folaura:

Cedaridge Folaura (Folltan x Sharene)

As followers of this blog may remember, Spirit is the sire of my two Arabian loves: Flame aka NH Fyrecracker and Honey aka Spirits Fyrestorm.

Flame aka NH Fyrecracker (AV Olympic Spirit x Fyrelite Bynite)
Honey aka Spirits Fyrestorm (AV Olympic Spirit x Fyrelite Bynite)

Here’s their mom, Fyrelite:

Fyrelite Bynite (Nite Mover x Pure Silk)

More Spirit baby pictures:

Spirit’s dam, Raylee Asasi, was owned by Janice Johnson. Affirmativ spent several summers with the lovely mares owned by Mrs. Johnson, who was an ardent admirer of his. Renee spent three weeks with them on the first visit, riding horses and showing them how to hand breed the stallion.

One of the black fillies sired by Affirmativ at the Johnson farm, who was sold to Germany:

Affirma Fantasia (Affirmativ x AA Khaibar)

AV Midnight Lyric, a full sister to Fantasia, is still owned by Mrs. Johnson and is currently leased out to Belesemo Arabians:

AV Midnight Lyric (Affirmativ x AA Khaibar)

I’m going to wrap this post up with some pictures of Spirit all grown up:

Okay, I lied; here are two more pictures of Affirmativ (Who ever gets tired of looking at pictures of horses, really?):

Affirmativ
Affirmativ at Scottsdale

Writing in the Time of Covid

Timmy and Me

A quote from Gina Targoff’s best friend Strider Castillo (He is openly gay while Gina struggles to admit her true sexual orientation because of her overbearing, religious mother.):

“Now you listen Gina. I know you’ve been raised in this holy roller religious bullshit, but this is what I think.  God made me this way, and God doesn’t make mistakes.” This is a quote from “Timmy and the Red Stallion”.

I hope to explore humanity and the pain and suffering people from different walks of life endure and hopefully overcome through my stories. I don’t live in a white, straight, world and my stories reflect that. 

Here’s my Channillo bio:

I am a pharmacist and thus an essential worker during this time of Covid. My staff and I were nervous like everyone else when it all started, but because pharmacies had to stay open, we had no choice but to continue working during lockdown. We’re less anxious now as we work behind sheets of plastic and faceshields and it seems that we’ve even become accustomed to this new way of life. Writing stories has always been a dream of mine.  A dream I first fully realized in seventh grade when my home room teacher asked me what I’d like to be when I grow up. I answered, writer, without hesitation. Even though in my area in north Texas, restaurants and such are open again, I don’t feel comfortable going out yet. At first that led to depression, but then I realized I could use the opportunity to write. 

Timmy Tales is the first of many series I plan for Channillo. I came late to owning horses too. When I was growing up in an apartment in California, with no horses in sight, I read The Black Stallion series and any other horse books I could get my hands on and dreamed of one day living on a farm and owning my own horses.

I now live in north Texas in the suburbs. I didn’t make it to farm life, but I did finally realize my dream of horse ownership.  My horses live 45 minutes away from me on a 200+ acre ranch. I love all animals, so I have many. 

I board 4 horses at the ranch affectionately known as The Franch (Frances’s ranch). Two of them are rescues (one of which is Timmy) and the other two are Arabians. I live in the burbs with my daughter, four cats and 3 dogs, all of which are rescues. Well, except for my daughter. 🙂

I placed my Timmy Tales series on Channillo and plan to add The Red Filly once it’s accepted. All proceeds from both series will benefit Becky’s Hope Horse Rescue. Here’s the link to the series:

https://channillo.com/series/timmy-tales-the-adventures-of-a-rescue-pony/

Sheila Varian-Dreamer and Doer

Sheila and Farlotta

Not too long ago a fellow horse loving friend loaned me the DVD, “The Legacy of Sheila Varian”. He said, “You’ll love this because it’s all about Arabians,” or something along those lines. I didn’t watch it right away because I figured it was a boring documentary about some rich lady and her horse farm. I finally popped it in a week or two later and found myself drawn in by this woman, who was the quintessential dreamer of dreams!

Sheila Varian did not come from a rich family. She fell in love with Arabians the same way I did, through reading the Black Stallion series by Walter Farley. Her parents weren’t horse people but supported her dreams and at the age of eight she started riding her first horse, a Morgan/Percheron mix and because money was tight, learned to ride bareback. She didn’t acquire her first saddle until the age of twelve.

Horses were in Sheila’s blood, heart and soul from the start and while working as a high school physical education teacher, she worked toward her dream. Farlotta was her first Arabian and most beloved of all. When Farlotta passed on to the rainbow bridge at the young age of seven due to health problems, Sheila was holding her cherished mare’s head in her arms.

Sheila later acquired the mare Ronteza, who would set Sheila on her way toward creating her legacy. In 1961 Sheila and Ronteza won the Open Reined Cow Horse Championship at The Cow Palace in San Francisco, California. She was the first amateur, the first woman and had the first Arabian to take the title.

Through acquiring mares from Poland and careful breeding over the years, Sheila Varian created the dynasty that is now known as Varian Arabians. Her is a link for the video that tells the story of this great lady and her legacy:

The Legacy of Sheila Varian

At one point in the documentary Sheila talked about following your dreams. I can’t remember the exact quote, but what she said really made an impression on me. This woman was not rich, or beautiful (in the traditional sense), but she was driven. I’m sure she encountered pain and roadblocks along the way, but she didn’t let that stop her. She lived the life she wanted and that is inspiring!

Sheila and Ronteza

Marwari-The Desert Horse of India

The Marwari is a rare and ancient breed of horse that originated in the Marwar region of western India. The breed is easily recognizable due to its inwardly curved ears. The Marwari is believed to be descended from the warhorses of the Rajput warriors of the Marwar region.

The origins of the Marwari horse are uncertain, but the breed is likely to have been influenced by Turkoman type horses brought to the area by Mughul invaders, as well as the Arabian horse. There is an Indian legend that seven Arabian horses of good breeding were shipwrecked off the shore of the Kachchh District and were taken to the Marwar region to be used as foundation bloodstock for the Marwari. Like the Arabian, the Marwari is know for its hardiness and also like the Arabian they were bred as warhorses. They were renowned for their courage in battle and loyalty to their riders. It was said that a Marwari horse would only leave a battle under three conditions; victory, death, or carrying its master to safety.

Maharana Pratap on Chetak, Moti MagriUdaipur, by Ankur P

Chetak was a legendary Marwari horse. The grey stallion purportedly carried Maharana Pratap to safety after he slayed the last of the Moghuls in the battle of Haldighati. The courageous stallion was said to have been brave enough to take on an elephant and reared so that Pretap was able to kill the Moghul who sat atop the war elephant. Chetak was mortally wounded by the elephant’s tusks, but he carried his master to safety, traveling many miles before dying near a river.

The Marwari were almost eliminated during the British rule of India during the early 1900s. The British preferred their thoroughbreds and polo ponies and ridiculed the horses with the inward turning ears. Even after independence from Britain, the Marwari horse was still endangered because war horses were no longer needed and many of the Indian nobleman who bred them had lost their land.

The Marwari horse was on the verge of extinction until Maharaja Umaid Singhji stepped in to save them and his work was continued by his grandson, Maharaja Gaj Singh II.

Later in 1995 a British horsewoman named Francesca Kelly founded the group, Marwari Bloodlines. Then, along with her husband, Raghuvendra Singh Dundlod, they led a group in 1999 that founded the Indigenous Horse Society of India which helps promote and preserve the breed.

Ashwarya aka Rae Rae

Ashwarya who is named after a Bollywood actress is currently residing at The Kentucky Horse Park and she was donated to the park by Francesca Kelly. She’s the only Marwari horse in the U.S. presently as far as I can tell due to the fact that India does not allow the export of the breed at this time. According to my research, Francesca Kelly has since moved the rest of her Marwari brood to the UK. If anyone is aware of others in the U.S. I’d love to hear from you.

Mary and Becky’s Hope Horse Rescue

Maryjune 2020

The sweet Tennessee Walker in the picture above is a horse that I’m currently sponsoring at Becky’s Hope and her name is Mary.

Like many people, I became fully aware of the impact Becky’s Hope has had in the animal rescue world when I heard about, Bubbles, The Rescue Horse:

Bubblestherescuehorse

His story is inspiring and full of hope. He was obviously a horse who had led a rough life, but he was still brimming with love and hope when Becky’s Hope found him. This is the short version of what led to his rescue, “Bubbles, a smart old horse with frostbit ears, escaped a kill lot by hiding with a group of mini donks being rescued from slaughter and hopping a ride on the Freedom Trailer bound for Becky’s Hope Horse Rescue!”

Sweet Bubbles has since passed away, but he found great joy and happiness in his final years at Becky’s Hope, even falling in love with a mare named, Muffit:

BubblesandMuffit

Check out his Facebook page, which is now run by another sweet rescue horse named, Pops:

Pops

Here is Pops with Bubbles and Muffit:

BubblesMuffitandPops

Horse rescue is dear to my heart, in fact all animal rescue is important to me. It’s only 50 dollars a month to sponsor a horse at Becky’s Hope and any donation is welcome. Thousands of people view the FB and Twitter posts for Becky’s Hope as well as the FB page for Bubbles The Rescue Horse, so if everyone just donated one dollar that would make an enormous impact.

For more info about Becky’s Hope Horse Rescue, Inc and Bubbles The Rescue Horse, check out the following FB pages, Twitter and their website:

On Facebook:

Becky’s Hope Horse Rescue, Inc.

Bubbles The Rescue Horse

Twitter:

Becky’s Hope

Website:

Becky’s Hope

#BeTheChange #RescueWorks

 

 

 

 

 

The Red Filly-Chapter 2

ApolloMarwariPic

“So how was it? Did you have fun?” asked Helene as she pulled their old pickup onto the two-lane country road at the end of the long gravel driveway.

“Yes, I had fun,” answered Chelsea.

“How about some details?” Helene again prodded.

“Mom, I had fun. I wish you wouldn’t interrogate me.”

Helene sighed and then said, “My new boss, Mr. Singh, invited us for dinner tonight.”

“Mom, I just want to go home. I don’t want to go anywhere,” Chelsea whined.

“Chelsea please, this is important to me. I really love my new job. You’ll like him. I promise.”

“Okay. I don’t have a choice, do I?” said Chelsea.

Helene laughed, “Not really.”

Chelsea didn’t respond and just looked out the window as they drove down the country road into town.  Her view consisted of field after field of mostly cows, occasionally horses and wood frame houses.  Many of the houses needed repairs and a new coat of paint.  There wasn’t a lot of money in Dale City. Most people lived off the land or paycheck to paycheck, except for the lucky ones that worked at James Corp, the best employer in the small town.

As they pulled into town, some of that prosperity could be seen.  There were better houses, even brick, ranch style types, which were popular among the rural, middle class.   Over the years several businesses had cropped up in town, including several chains like McDonalds, Burger King, and such.  Helene slowed the rambling truck to 35 mph as she pulled into the old downtown.  She pulled into one of the angled parking spots in front of a shop which bore the sign, Singh’s Antiques and Curiosities.  At first Helene had been a little worried about coming to work for a “foreigner”, not because she was xenophobic, but because there were rumors of white supremacist groups still operating in the small, Texas town.   Helene was well read and had dreamed of traveling the world, so she welcomed the chance to get to know Amir Singh. But she had been working at the shop for a month now, working on the daily operations and helping with the books and had seen no sign of racism from the townspeople who frequented the shop.  Maybe the fact that James Corp was owned by a black family had had a positive impact on the town.

Amir stepped out onto the walkway in front of his shop to greet them as they exited the truck, the heavy metal doors of the old truck screeching as they slammed them both shut.  Amir Singh was Helene’s age, but unlike her, he was fit. His black hair was cropped short, but was full and a bit wavy, complimenting his olive skin.

“Helene, so happy you and Chelsea could make it for dinner,” he greeted them with a smile.

“Hello Amir, this is Chelsea,” Helene said as she waived an arm toward her daughter as they both stepped onto the sidewalk.

“You call your boss by his first name?” Chelsea blurted out.

“We’re informal around here,” said Amir with a smile as he extended his right hand toward her.

Chelsea looked at his hand for a moment, then reached out and took it. She shook it firmly as her Dad had taught her before he left them. It was the only thing she ever learned from him.

Helene sighed as her body relaxed from her tense posture, which did not go unnoticed by Amir. He smiled toward Helene as if to say, “See, I told you everything would be fine.” She smiled back and the three of them headed inside.

They walked through the shop, which was full of the standard antiques found in any small, Texas town. There were old wooden dressers with chips and scratches, ancient looking garden gnomes, decorative plates on little metal stands depicting women with big, old fashioned dresses, and ceramic figurines in the shapes of cats and roosters and the like.

“Everything is so old in here!” said Chelsea.

“Chelsea!” Helene admonished.

“It’s ok Helene. She’s right, everything is old,” said Amir.

“Well why would people want to buy old things? Asked Chelsea.

“That’s an excellent question, Chelsea. I think sometimes old things, comfort people. They remind them of a simpler time, I assume,” Amir answered.

“That makes sense,” said Chelsea as they reached a door in the back that Amir opened and led them through.

“It smells funny in here,” said Chelsea.

“That’s because you’ve never smelled Indian spices before. I’ve made us some butter chicken and some naan,” said Amir.

“Just chicken with butter? And what’s nahn?” asked Chelsea.

“Come I’ll show you,” said Amir as they followed him to the back of the apartment to the kitchen. On the stove there was a large silver, metal pot that Amir walk toward and then lifted the lid. “Come look,” he invited.

Chelsea and Helene obliged, and they could see chicken covered in a brownish sauce inside the pot as they peered into it. “Oh, I like chicken and gravy,” said Chelsea.

“And here is the naan,” said Amir as he lifted a thin, white cloth from a plate on the counter.

“Oh, it’s just flatbread. I love bread!” said Chelsea.

Amir placed the cloth back over the bread and as he did that, Chelsea was distracted by a photograph on the wall just past the stove and near the kitchen table. It was a picture of Amir, although younger, smiling and standing next to a beautiful golden colored horse, with a blaze running down the length of its face. Chelsea walked closer to the photo and said, “What’s wrong with that horse’s ears?”

“There’s nothing wrong with Apollo’s ears. He’s a Marwari horse, their ears are supposed to curve inward.”

“Mahr-wahr-ee? How do you spell that?” asked Chelsea.

“M-a-r-w-a-r-i,” Amir answered.

“Marwari,” said Chelsea softly to herself. “Apollo was beautiful, he was your horse?” asked Chelsea.

“It’s a long story. Let’s discuss it while we eat supper,” said Amir as he began to scoop the butter chicken onto three plates. He handed one of the plates to Chelsea and he carried the other two to the table. “Helene, could you get the water pitcher from the fridge and fill three glasses for us?”

Helene retrieved the Britta water pitcher from the fridge and poured water into the three glasses that Amir had already placed on the table. Amir placed the plate of naan on the table after having microwaved it for a few seconds to warm it.

The three of them sat down at the table, which had already been set with forks and napkins. Amir reached for the plate of naan and removed one of the flat breads before passing the plate onto Helene. He then ripped off a small piece of naan and used it to pick up some of the chicken and then began eating.

Chelsea asked, “You’re not going to use a fork?”

“I’m eating in the traditional Indian way, but sometimes I use a fork too. I set the table with forks because I know that’s what you are used to.”

Chelsea copied his technique and used a piece of bread to eat the butter chicken. “I like eating this way,” she said.

“Well, I hope you two won’t be offended if I use a fork,” said Helene, smiling.

“Suit yourself, mom,” said Chelsea.

Amir smiled at Helene and then turned his attention to Chelsea. “Your mother tells me, that you got a job riding horses. I used to work on a horse ranch in India,” said Amir.

“You did? Is that where you met Apollo?” asked Chelsea.

“Yes, he was a prized Marwari stallion in those days. I miss him very much.”

“What happened to him?”

“He left this world some time ago. That picture was from another time, many years before you were born. Tell me about your job,” finished Amir.

“Oh, I’m going to exercise racehorses for Wisdom Racing Stable. But I’m most excited about the beautiful filly, my mom and I saw running in the pasture today! No one has ridden her because they said she can’t race because she’s half Arabian. But Mr. Castillo said if I can win her trust, they’ll let me ride her one day!”

“Why can’t she race because she’s half Arabian?” asked Helene.

“Mr. Castillo says that the Jockey Club won’t allow horses that aren’t full Thoroughbred to race,” Chelsea answered.

“That’s too bad because Arabians are excellent racehorses. They possess both speed and stamina. Marwari horses were infused with Arabian blood early in their history. According to legend, an Arabian ship containing seven Arabian stallions wrecked off the coast of India and were taken to the Marwar region to be used as bloodstock for the Marwari breed. The Marwari and Arabian horses are the most ancient breeds in the world, and both carried warriors into battle,” said Amir.

“Warriors! That’s so cool!” said Chelsea.

“Very cool, indeed. My ancestors were Rajput warriors, so I believe I was born with a love for the Marwari horse,” said Amir.

“So, what is the filly’s name and why did a Thoroughbred ranch breed a half-Arabian in the first place?” asked Helene.

“Her name is Fyrestorm and Mr. Castillo said her mom jumped the fence and got bred by the black Arabian stallion next door,” answered Chelsea.

“So, it was fate, that she was born and that you came into her life. I believe great things are on the horizon for you and Fyrestorm,” said Amir.

Timmy’s Best Friend

TimmyinfrontoftheRedBarn

“Of course, I’ll help your little sister, Lucas,” said Renata.

“Thank you, Renata. I knew I could count on you. Kobi will be so happy! She’s already in love with this horse.  I know you’re not running a boarding facility, but I’ll pay any monthly fees you require.”

“Lucas, you’ve helped me on so many occasions, I owe you,” said a smiling Renata face raised, looking into his hazel eyes. “I’ll expect some work out of her though,” Renata continued, still smiling.

“Of course,” said Lucas looking down at her and smiling too.

Renata reached out and took Lucas’s right hand in hers.  There was a strong bond between the athletic, bronze-skinned deputy and the lovely dark-haired lady from Brazil. Renata broke the moment by stepping back and asked, “So when can I expect my new border?”

Lucas cleared his throat and said, “I’ll call Strider and let him know you agreed, and they can go pick up the horse. They purchased him at the auction last night to save him from the “killer buyers.”

“What breed is the horse?” asked Renata.

“He’s a thoroughbred. He apparently has a minor injury and was therefore deemed no longer useful by your neighbor, Kirk Robertson,” answered Lucas.

Renata frowned and said, “Horses are a lifelong responsibility. Just because they can’t be ridden anymore is no excuse to betray and abandon them.” Renata’s fists tightened as she said it.

“I knew you felt that way Renata. You keep old Ambush around and even Timmy, who’s never been ridden. It’s one of the many things I admire about you,” he said smiling.

 

It was late evening when the truck and trailer pulled into Kuhaylah Arabians. School was out for the day, so Gina was at the ranch and standing next to Renata as they watched the truck pull the trailer up the long drive.

“Let’s meet them at the small barn,” said Renata as she started walking toward the small red barn on the corner of the property.  There were no horses in it at the moment. They had just been using it to store hay.

Renata and Gina arrived at the front of the barn just as the truck was reaching the bend in the driveway right in front of it.  Renata signaled to Strider to stop the truck. Strider had been driving the rig at a snail’s pace, but it was very dry and there was a slight breeze on this cool, crisp, autumn evening, so a little cloud of white dust wafted over them. Strider stepped out of the truck and was immediately joined by a slim, brown-skinned girl with black hair in braids as she slid out right behind him on the driver’s side, shutting the door behind her.

“Hey Gina, hey Renata,” said Strider as the new girl looked on. “This is Kobi Remington, Lucas Remington’s younger sister.”

“Nice to meet you, Kobi,” said Renata smiling.

Timmy, the ever-curious golden pony, came trotting up from the big pasture to check out the new arrival.

“Nice to meet you too,” answered Kobi. “And thank you so much for doing this. I really love this horse!”

“I’m always willing to help a fellow horse lover! We are kindred spirits.”

“Hi Kobi,” said Gina. “I haven’t seen you at Dale City High. Do you go there?”

“You haven’t seen her because she’s in eighth grade,” laughed Strider.

Kobi smiled at Gina, but then turned toward Timmy, “What a cute pony.”

“That’s Timmy, he’s the head of the welcoming committee at Kuhaylah Arabians,” laughed Renata.

As if on cue, Timmy walked straight up to Kobi and nuzzled her neck as she giggled.

“He likes you,” said Renata, “and he seems to like your charge too. Let’s get him out of the trailer.”

The trailer was a small, white, two-horse affair. The horse was on the left, so Kobi opened the right rear door after lowering the ramp and stepped inside.  “It’s okay Charlie Brown, you’re safe now,” she said to the horse. He softly nickered to her as if he understood.

Strider opened the left rear door after she reached the head of the horse.

It was obvious Kobi had a bond with the horse because she just tugged back on the lead rope a little while lightly tapping on his chest and he began to slowly back out as she talked softly to him.

He was a sight to see as he stepped out of the trailer into the evening sunlight. He was a well built, bay thoroughbred with a blaze running down his entire face. Kobi turned him around to face the group and said, “His name is Charlie Brown.”

“Charlie Brown? What a weird name for a horse,” said Gina.

“His sire is Big Brown, the 2008 Kentucky Derby winner,” said Kobi.

“But unfortunately for him, he didn’t take after his sire. Too slow,” said Strider.

Timmy walked up to Charlie Brown and they touched noses. They immediately bonded, no squealing or pawing at each other.

“Looks like Timmy found himself a best friend. Let’s take him into the small barn and check him over,” said Renata.

Kobi began to lead Charlie Brown toward the barn and he limped a little on his front right leg.

“Stop a moment, Kobi, so I can check out his leg,” said Renata.

“He has a suspensory ligament injury,” said Strider.

Renata walked up to the horse, bent down and placed her hand on his leg. “His leg does feel warm and there is a little swelling. It’s a common injury in horse racing, but it seems minor. Just a little stall rest, anti-inflammatories, and support bandages and he should be fine. Why was he sentenced to certain death?” asked Renata.

“Like I said, too slow. Wisdom Racing Stables has no room for a slow racehorse,” said Strider.

Renata’s body tensed with anger as she straightened back up. “Ridiculous! This horse would make an excellent dressage prospect. He’s young and healthy. Besides, animal ownership is a lifelong commitment!”

“We knew you would feel that way,” said Strider with a smile.

“What’s dressage?” asked Kobi.

“It’s an elegant style of riding that this beauty would be well suited for. I used to compete on horses like this when I lived in Paris,” said Renata.

“Paris, Texas?” asked Kobi.

Renata laughed, “Paris, France.”

“Paris, France?! Wow! Could you teach me dressage?” asked Kobi.

“I can,” said Renata, smiling and continued, “Let’s take Charlie Brown into the barn and get him settled for the evening.”

Gina opened the white, metal gate to let Charlie and his entourage through to the small paddock area in front of the little, red barn. Timmy tried to bring up the rear, but Gina gently pushed him back and closed the gate. “Sorry buddy. You can see your new friend later,” she said as she rubbed his nose.

Timmy stood guard at the gate as they all went inside the barn to help their new resident settle into his forever home.

Timmy and Charlie Playing Video

Pictures of Timmy and Charlie Brown:

 

 

 

Mary-My Sponsor Horse

MARY (1)

I’ve been following Becky’s Hope Horse Rescue on Facebook for some time and when they posted that they needed a sponsor for the beautiful, Mary, I couldn’t resist.  She’s a Tennessee Walker and here is her bio:

MaryBIO

Animal rescue is important to me and I’d like to dedicate my life to it through my writing.  As I’ve mentioned on my home page I have several rescues of my own. I wish I could save all of them!

Becky’s Hope has saved countless lives and continues to do so.  If you sponsor a horse (which is only 50 dollars a month), you get this cool certificate (and the above bio and thank you card):

CERTMARY (1)

They are a wonderful organization!

Check them out on Facebook: Becky’s Hope Horse Rescue, Inc.

or their website: Becky’s Hope Horse Rescue

Hard at Work on the Next #TimmyTale

WritingaTimmyTale

On the surface, writing seems like it would be easy. I mean, you just sit there in front of a computer or relax in a chair while you write in a spiral notebook… How hard could that be? It’s not like laying concrete in 90 degree heat after all.  Yet so many of us writers seem to find it so hard to do.

When I was in my twenties, I couldn’t understand where writers got their ideas. But now in “middle age” (I’m 54), I have more ideas than I can possibly put into book form in one lifetime, so that shuts me down.

too-many-choices-paralyzes-progress

Too many choices paralyses progress.  Here’s a good article on the subject:

Too Many Choices: Problems With Searching for an Extraordinary Life

And for me, it’s not just writing, but being interested in so many things (like I think a lot or writers are), such as; astronomy, artificial intelligence, physics, it goes on and on…

Unlike the guy in the article, I didn’t have a childhood with choices or support, in fact, I mostly just had to survive my childhood.  But now, I do have choices, which has become a problem.  So because I can’t choose, for now, I’m going to keep writing Timmy Tales or other horse related short stories and horse related articles, because one constant in my life has always been horses.  Not that I had them growing up, but I read everything I could get my hands on about them, fiction or non-fiction and I watched every movie and tv show that had horses whether or not I liked the show itself.

So for now, I choose horses (and all my other 4-legged loves).

Joey and Chandler approve of this post:

JoeyandChandlerwriterhelpers