Being Real

by Lisa Wysocky

I was at the barn the other day scratching Tessie, our lead mare, in the pasture. She loves to be scratched. When one of the other horses approached, however, she pinned her ears, made an ugly face, and the other horse moved away. In that moment I wished that I could be as transparent in my life as Tessie was in hers.

That’s the thing about horses. They wear their emotions all over their bodies. Once you understand equine language, you know without a doubt which emotion your horse is feeing. From a swished tail to the tilt of an ear, horses tell us exactly what is going through their minds.

People . . . not so much. Most people hide their emotions and true feelings so deeply that we get caught up in what we think a friend, co-worker, or loved one felt or meant. Usually we are wrong. Then, after a long delicate dance of convoluted proportions where each person tiptoes around the other, one party’s true feelings might possibly come out. Or not. 

Tessie

The upshot is that our complicated human ritual of hiding our feelings is a writer’s dream. We can attach a series of facial expressions and body movements to a fictional character that is sure to confound the reader and keep him or her guessing. Our complex social rules dictate that we suck up anger, disappointment, fear and many other emotions when we are in public. I have sometimes wondered how different our lives might be if we just expressed our feelings in the moment. On one hand our close relationships might become much stronger, as we would have cut through all the red tape that keeps us from being real. On the other hand, our casual and workplace relationships would most likely deteriorate. Who wants to be around Debbie Downer after work, or eat lunch with a person who expresses all of her anger as you’re trying to enjoy a club sandwich?

For now, I will continue to be polite, even on the rare occasions I do not feel like it. I will keep making conversation and smiling, even during those few times when I’d rather be someplace else. One day, though, I’m going to do it. One day when I don’t want to talk to a person who annoys or intimidates me I am going to pin my ears and make an ugly face. I will turn around and walk away from them and if they follow, I will kick them. After that, if I manage not to get arrested for assault, I might even feel good enough to prick my ears and trot toward home. 

Lisa is the author of My Horse My Partner and Horse Country, among many other books, and the award-winning Cat Enright cozy equestrian mystery series, now optioned for film and television. When not writing, Lisa is a therapeutic riding instructor who consults with PATH and other centers about their horse herds.

Writing it Right, by Lisa Wysocky

As equine authors, we all want to get not only the story right, but also the horse part of it right, too. Everyone here is an experienced horse person, and has a broad base of knowledge that we incorporate into our books to share with our readers. However, it is amazing the number of little facts that creep into the story line that need to be researched, not once, but several times. We need to be thorough on our research because, if we get it wrong, at least one reader will step up to call us on it.

I think we’ve all read a book where the author gets a basic fact wrong and it takes us out of the story. That should never happen. Even in fiction, there are facts: a horse is measured in hands, a hand is four inches, there is no palomino color in the Thoroughbred breed. If we as authors get it wrong, we have done our readers a huge disservice.

I showed Appaloosa horses for many years, and the question of their point system came up in my newest Cat Enright cozy mystery, The Fame Equation. I knew how it worked. Or did I? After reviewing the current rulebook and a number of websites, I finally went to the source and called the person at the Appaloosa Horse Club who was in charge of their points system. Yes, I was right. But if I had not been, I would have alienated a lot of readers, and worse, my readers would have lost trust in me.

Quincy is a solid colored registered Appaloosa, but he looks so much like a

Thoroughbred that even his vet and farrier worked with him for

three years without realizing his actual breed.

Authors can never assume.

That is the real concern. If a reader cannot trust an author to get a basic fact correct, what about everything else the author writes? How many other mistakes, factual errors, or misconceptions are there in a given book? I write both equestrian fiction and nonfiction and am sure to find at least two credible sources for every fact I am not 1000 percent sure of. That is maybe a little over the top, but I have written a number of horse books and no reader has yet called me on a fact. I’m sure that day will someday come, and when it does, I will welcome it, for readers are truly the final authority.

• • •

Lisa Wysocky is an author, clinician, and registered PATH instructor who helps people learn about themselves through horses. Find her at LisaWysocky.com.

A Day in the Life of an Author

The day in the life of an author is not what most might think. Of course, it varies from author to author, just as the daily routine might vary from one accountant to another. And, when you mix horses in, the daily schedule takes on a life of it’s own.

I can’t speak for other authors, but I know that I need to write in the morning, when my mind is fresh. Usually, I do a quick read through of yesterday’s work, then dive right in. If I am writing nonfiction, something such as a book on horse training, I have an outline to follow. Those of us who publish with traditional publishers have most likely sold a proposal, a detailed outline of the proposed book, to the publisher, and the author needs to follow that outline. Nonfiction is a little easier on my brain, as I write facts, hopefully in an engaging narrative.

While other authors might outline their fiction, I do not. I know it sounds strange, but writing my Cat Enright mystery series is almost like having a conversation with my characters in my head. I sometimes even have disagreements with my characters about how the story should unfold. My saving grace on that front is that I have heard other fiction authors say the same thing.

I usually write for several hours, or until lunchtime. Then it is time to get down to the business of being an author. My booking and literary agents usually have sent some emails for me to respond to. When that has been dealt with I perform the necessary evils of social media and updating my website. I look over any contracts for speaking, horse clinics, writing, or “rights” sales (audio, trade paperback, foreign, etcetera), and sometimes speak to my co-authors about contracts and offers. In addition to horse books I sometimes co-author or ghostwrite autobiographies with well-known people. My books are published with a number of different publishers, so I take calls or answer their emails as well. On occasion, there is an interview to do.

By mid to late afternoon I am ready to head to the barn. Sometimes I teach a riding lesson or two, other times I feed, mow, groom, fix fences, haul hay, do groundwork, or even ride. After an early dinner I read over my morning’s work and make changes, then create a to-do list for my writing for the next day.

Of course, there are interruptions to this basic schedule. Conferences, clinics, book signings, and speaking engagements (and the travel to and from) happen regularly. A horse might become sick, or I get edits back from my editor and hunker down for several days to get through them. Sometimes I find I just need to take a morning to pick up and organize the chaos that has developed around my writing space. But somehow, books are turned in on deadline, horses get fed, and I can’t wait to get up in the morning to start it all over again.

Safe? Or Boring?

I recently witnessed a young woman taking a morning ride in a field. She was riding western and ponying two horses, one on each side. Also in the field were four to five other horses who were grazing. The young woman was not wearing a helmet, and was busy texting on her phone.

“Yikes!” I thought. “That is an accident waiting to happen.”

Not every scenario has to be so filled with safety hazards, but when it comes to horses, most of the people I know who have been on the injured list (myself included), were there because he or she failed to follow a basic safety principle. Stretch your arm away from your torso when longeing a horse, you might get a dislocated shoulder. Wear tennis shoes or (gasp) flip-flops in the barn, you might end up with mashed toes.

As a PATH (Professional Association of Therapeutic Horsemanship) instructor, I am all about safety. Overly so, it must seem, to my non-therapeutic riding friends. But I am proud of being safety conscious, even if some people call me boring, and claim I am no fun to ride with.

However, when it comes to writing, and specifically writing about horses, it is a different story. As writers, we often need to throw safety to the wind and get on with the amazing stories we are compelled to tell. Every reader deserves that. Readers choose to spend their precious time reading what we write, so we had better deliver.

Last week I read a highly anticipated short story. Technically, it was brilliantly written. The dialogue flowed and the plot moved forward at a good pace. But when I was done reading, I felt empty. The writer had played it too safe and the result was that the story was predictable and boring.

Not every book, article, or story has to have a grandmother riding down Main Street on a hippopotamus to grab a reader’s attention. But, the dialogue does have to shine. The plot has to be intriguing, and in nonfiction, the facts have to be presented in a narrative that sparkles.

So when it comes to safe versus boring, I choose to stay very safe around my horses. I drive my truck within the speed limit, and with alertness and caution. But, I really, really hope my writing is never boring. That determination, though, is up to the reader.

Baby

Those of us who blog here are passionate about two things: horses and writing about them. Most of us ride. We live all over the world and interact with horses in different ways, but we all love everything about the horse.

While we love all horses, some inevitably become more special to us than others. You have probably found that to be true as well. It may be that one horse has a funny personality quirk, or is kind, or is exceptionally beautiful. Those special horses get pulled into our hearts and stay there forever.

I am fortunate. My heart is filled with many special horses. I have written a lot about my first horse, the white Appaloosa mare Snoqualmie, and her son, Ben, in some of my books. Valentino, the little rescue horse who could not relate to either horses or people and who eventually became the 2011 PATH International Equine of the Year is another horse who fills my heart. I have written about him in several books, too.

There is another very special horse on the cover of my most recent book, Therapy Horse Selection. Baby is a black Tennessee Walking Horse/pony cross. At just 14.2 and twenty-plus years, she is the senior mare in her herd and plays the grandma role very well. No drama. Lots of patience. She is also polite. Each time a human comes into the paddock area for the first time on a given day, Baby whinnies in welcome. I always half expect her to pull out iced tea, lemonade, and cookies, as any Southern hostess would do.

Baby also makes her people do it right. Whether it is teaching therapeutic riding instructors how to ground drive, or a teenaged girl with disabilities to ride, or a young man with autism to longe, they have to ask correctly. Baby is the very best teacher and I love her dearly.

I use present tense, but that is not exactly correct. You see, we lost our beloved Baby last Saturday. A neighbor waved to her in the pasture while she was grazing peacefully with the rest of her herd at eight in the morning. By ten o’clock she was in the throes of a bad colic, so bad that her veterinarian could not save her. Hours later she was buried in a corner of the pasture, near a wooded area and stream where she liked to hang out on hot days.

All of Baby’s horse and human friends, myself included, grieve for her. Today when I went to the barn there was no welcoming whinny from a quiet, patient little horse and my heart did a number of sad somersaults inside my chest. Yes, Baby was, is, special, and she will always remain in my heart. My remembrances of her and all the lessons she taught me will live on through me, and in everyone else, horse and human, that she impacted so positively. RIP Baby. Good girl.

Success with Sarah

by Lisa Wysocky

As both an able bodied and a therapeutic riding instructor, I really enjoy teaching people to ride. But, as most horse people know, there is a lot more to riding than just staying on a horse. In addition to learning to care for horses and the tack, and developing stable and pasture management skills, a rider needs to learn about the horse, and that is best done on the ground. 

This concept was recently brought to the forefront during a lesson I taught a month or so ago. A young teen was having terrible difficulty getting her horse to respond correctly to her cues. It wasn’t that Sarah wasn’t giving the cues correctly, but that her horse, Tramp, was ignoring them.

It was clear that Tramp did not respect Sarah. He was generally a kind and genial fellow who was quite safe for beginners, so he never did anything to put her in danger. His disrespect took the form of making Sarah ask four or five times to move from the walk to the trot, or from the trot to the walk. If she pointed tramp at a trail obstacle, he’d veer two feet to the left or right, no matter how correct her steering was. I could see how frustrating that was for Sarah.

I had to work hard to convince both Sarah and her mother that Sarah getting had a better chance of learning to ride off her horse. But, convinced they finally were. With no round pen in sight, we spent the next lesson doing leading exercises. Walk, trot, turn, stop, move the hips, and back. At first Tramp was sluggish, but as Sarah’s focus increased and her body posture became more businesslike, her giggles and frustration decreased and Tramp's ear focused in on her and he began to respond quickly and correctly.

The next lesson we did walk/trot reining and Dressage patterns on the ground, and Tramp became engaged and responded so well, that by the end of the lesson, she was able to do the exercises without touching the lead rope. When Sarah got back on during the third lesson, Tramp was a different horse.

Most of us are just like Sarah. We love to ride, but do not take the time to do foundation work with our horse. A riding instructor once told me, “if you can’t do it on the ground, you can’t do it in the saddle.” That is so true. Groundwork is consistently a part of my interactions with my horses.

I am so proud of Sarah. I am honored that she trusted me enough to try something different, and excited that she listened and took direction well, even though she was out of her comfort zone. Students like Sarah remind instructors like me why we do what we do, and I can’t imagine doing anything else.

If you'd like a copy of some of the leading patterns Sarah did, they are a free download on my website. Enjoy!