Anna Blake's Blog, page 51

Quote-Hoarding as Therapy.

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It was called The Book of Quotes, curated by two guys in my high school. They were skinny/tall, a bit too smart, and not remotely athletic–way before that geek title was claimed with pride. Back when a dork’s best defense was his intelligence. The Book of Quotes was their prized possession; a spiral notebook carried everywhere, poised to immortalize the key words, when the world became bizarre. Entries were made daily, of course.

I was friends with the dark-haired one but definitely not smart/male/cool enough to hang with these guys on a regular basis. We were self-segregated in those days. Okay, that part hasn’t changed much. But one day when we were sitting in the library, they opened the sacred book and read a quote–obscure and out-of-context. It went splat out on the table, followed by snorting, giggling, and faking sophistication while pushing my glasses back up my nose again. We all just wanted to be in on a joke instead of the butt of one.

I had a secret. I kept a book of quotes, too. It wasn’t like theirs; mine was meant to be an oracle for lost girls. Like this:

“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”― Eleanor Roosevelt

You catch my drift. Mine didn’t involve arcane jokes or adolescent innuendos. Mine was literary and heartfelt. The quotes were my battle cry because if a good quote is repeated enough times, it becomes an internal tattoo.

 “Assume a virtue if you have it not.” Shakespeare

The habit stuck; I’ve been a quote-hoarder all these years but never so much as when I was starting to write my memoir, Stable Relation.  My studio was wallpapered with tape, thumb-tacks, and hand-written quotes that I relied on like a professional therapist. Every morning, I rolled out of bed hours before breakfast, let the dogs out, and started writing. I had no idea that birds were up in the dark, too, but they warbled and chirped a soundtrack to my book. I typed on, in the shadow of the quote that was my long-time favorite:

Faith is the bird that feels the light when the dawn is still dark. –Rabindranath Tagor

When an old-friend-quote shows up in real life, take it as an omen.

This blog started out as wishful thinking. I’d just finished my book and I was strangely confident. Sink or swim; Stable Relation was just what I wanted it to be. Every word of it.

The problem was what to do next. How had it not occurred to me that writing the book wasn’t going to be enough? Now what? I had no confidence in the process.  I was still that girl who chanted the magical words from other books. In a world of literary giants, my little book was invisible…unless I spoke up for it. A daunting prospect, so I recycled an extremely well-worn quote for that:

“The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.” – Lao Tzu

Or in my case, one blog post. Here’s where I thank you, dear reader, again and again. It’s been a wild hike this last eighteen months.

The full-circle-crazy part? It happened while scrolling through Facebook. I came upon a quote that I thought about copying for an instant… but then I recognized the attached photo. It was one of mine, and now that I looked closer… I hadn’t recognized the words out-of-context. For all of the editing and word arranging needed to tell a story just right, I’d never once thought of dissecting my writing into a small bite. But umm, now that I think about it, that is how a quote happens, isn’t it? What a world!

Are you a quote collector, too? Words are free magic. We share them like our breath, our experience, our mutual lives. Words come from teenage boys, or ancient texts, or our own imagination, to remind us we are more alike than different.

The magic happens when a printed word takes flight, and carries us along.

Shrews for Shakespeare

I was an above average student, as long as I could avoid any science class involving frogs. Then in junior year English, we had to read a play by Shakespeare. I joined the chorus of moaning and whining. For crying out loud, what language was this anyway? But then a crazy thing happened; something that I couldn’t explain because in 1970 we hadn’t invented the word GEEK yet. At first the Bard’s language was intimidating… but it dawned on me that I understood most of the words. Even more bizarre, I liked the writing. Then in true teenage fashion, I really liked liking it. No one was more surprised than me. Well, except for my family.

My father ruled our home with a strong hand and no one was smarter than him. Not the stupid people on the news or the stupid politicians or the stupid rich people. And most certainly, not his daughter.

His rant began when he saw my school books. What a waste of time to read something that old! He said schools didn’t teach anything worthwhile and when I defended reading Shakespeare, he accused me of trying to get above my raising. Not actually good news in his world view. You would have thought I was pregnant with Shakespeare’s baby. My response was, well, shrew-ish.

Public school had been a godsend. While books might have been the passport to the world, we didn’t have them at home; without school I would have been lost. And reading Shakespeare was how my particular rebellion began.

After graduation, I took a trip with my boyfriend but that wasn’t the worst part. I did something that proved I was a smarty-pants. We went to a Shakespeare festival in the next state. The response from my father was predictable. Other kids wrecked cars or had drug problems but all that paled in comparison to my father’s problem: A daughter with the beginnings of an education and a desire for a bigger life.

“My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart concealing it will break.”   

Shakespeare, The Taming of the Shrew.

Surely every parent feels this rub. My father was defensive and I almost understood. He was a product of the depression, holding onto a feeling of lack all his life. He believed in the class system that put him down; that had never given him what he felt he deserved. It wasn’t that my father wanted me to fail; he just didn’t want me to do better than he had. He didn’t want to be shown up by a girl.

I wasn’t the first and I won’t be the last. It’s still all the rage to try to intimidate girls and women into silence. In 2012, Malala Yousafzai reminded the world there is nothing as scary as a school girl with a book. She survived an assassination attempt and was awarded a Nobel Peace Prize; extremes on the continuum that all women walk.

I recently read that the most prevalent human rights issue in the world is the oppression of women. I can believe it; the impact of sexism crosses lines of race, age, education, and income–across cultures and down through time. Insidiously common because it starts at home, misogyny is just an inbred superiority complex, and as common as dirty laundry and dishes in the sink.

When college didn’t happen, I home-schooled myself. I spent my twenties with an endless line of Penguin Classics in my backpack, sometimes writing unsolicited papers on them. An artist by vocation and an English major by avocation.

I learned to own my words and to translate other words in my favor. Society called men ambitious, while the name for same traits in a woman was not nearly so flattering. I wish that B-word that rhymes with witch would be replaced with Shrew. It’s a nostalgic word that reminds me of the first time I consciously became aware of my own intelligence. Shrew. Just hearing it makes my shoulders straighten a bit.

Understatement: I’m no Shakespeare.

Sometimes at book-talks, people ask me who my favorite authors are and I rattle off a list–mostly women, I notice. I never mention the Bard. I sound like an elitist even calling him the Bard. As if I can still be shamed for exercising my brain. As if being a geek shouldn’t be something to brag about.

Well, I’ll raise my shrew-ish hand high and proclaim it: Shakespeare was my first.

Chime in; who got inside your brain and stirred it up? How did you first get above your raising?

We Had a Book Club Before Oprah.

We formed a book club before it was popular. You can tell by our dated name: Women who read too much (and the dogs that love them.) We were an eclectic group of women, of varied backgrounds and status, with jobs that ranged from engineers to doctors to tech queens to research scientists and everything to the left and right. In the beginning we didn’t all know each other but we did have one huge commonality: we loved books. I read the best books of my life with those women.

The Parliament of Eight Wise Owls book club, with two readers off screen.

Our first book was Angle of Repose by Wallace Stegner. It set the bar high but I could list another fifty just as good. In the beginning I was a dyed-in-the-wool fiction reader, but being in the club meant reading books that you probably wouldn’t have read otherwise. Every time it was Lauren’s turn, she picked a non-fiction book. I’d silently grumble, then end up wild about the book, until I finally switched sides entirely.

We took turns picking authors from around the world, and then matched our potluck dinner menus to the book theme or nationality. We began each meeting with a glass of wine, but it was the book talk that I valued the most; first reasoning out my opinion, then seeing that book from other perspectives, and then enjoying the routine every month for a few years. There was always a delicious feeling walking up to the door with a covered dish and the latest read, anxious for our particular brand of bookish sisterhood.

And the elephant in my brain the entire time; the un-named what-if was always behind me, leaning against a wall. He whispered, “What if it was your book? What if you ever wrote yours??” It was a dream so precious and improbable that I made up an imaginary sarcastic loner to poke me, rather than share it out loud to my friends.

Life happened; there were weddings and divorces, members transitioned in and out, and eventually I moved away. For a while I commuted back but there were changes in my life that made returning difficult. Some of the other original members fell away that next year as well, but I understand the book club is still reading on. Long live the Women Who Read Too Much; thirteen years later and I’m still curious about what they’re reading.

It’s been a hectic month here, crowded with events I would never have dreamed of in my book club years. I was invited to take part in an event for local authors at the Pikes Peak Library District. Libraries are a sacred place, you know. Then traveling to the Midwest Horse Fair and meeting readers there was amazing, as well as having a day at Main Stay Farm. I gave a webinar I created from a blog post, and I just generally talked with authors and met readers. I’ve been busier with book work lately than my day job. (Which isn’t saying much if your day job is outside work and it’s springtime in the Rockies.)

Then this week an email informed me that Stable Relation had been selected as a finalist in the National Indie Excellence Awards. It’s not a well-known as a Pulitzer but it’s special to me and I’m very grateful. It comes with a promotion. Now I’m officially an “award-winning” author. It means I can post this sticker. With a big smile.

But that isn’t the best thing that happened this week. I got another email, this time from someone trying to find examples of my goldsmithing online. I assumed she was an old client and I told her that I was out of the business. Then she told me that her book club, The Parliament of Eight Wise Owls, from Livermore, CA, had chosen my book. They were meeting that night. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard of a book club reading Stable Relation, but it was certainly my first invitation to join the conversation! I downloaded Skype, tidied myself up, and sat quietly at my computer. At the appointed time, and by the grace of the internet, I joined them. It started with cheers and laughter on all sides. I asked if they had wine, and my computer screen was instantly filled with glasses. So I lifted mine as well and we started by toasting book clubs.

They each introduced themselves with wit and candor, and I was warmly included in their circle like an old friend. We talked about authors we liked and the value of memoir and Stable Relation might have come up. I spoke as an author part of the time, and a longtime book-clubber the rest of the time. My smile muscles were exhausted by the time I said good-bye, but just before that, I offered to send them bookmarks, if someone would send a list of the names for spelling. Susan sent me that list, with a short paragraph describing each member with such affection. They are a group rich in experience and kindness–the perfect bookish sisterhood.

(The Owls found my book online, largely because of reviews. So thanks to you, if you left a review, and if you’ve meant to leave one, a gentle reminder. It makes all the difference on this side.)

And thank you, Owls, from your honorary member! Here’s to book clubs; sharing books is a great way to build friendships. Books have opened unexpected doors for me, connecting the past and the future, in ways that fiction can’t imagine. Because for me there’s nothing that joins people like a good dose of real life non-fiction.

When I Met You.

Welcome to the Rocky Mountain Horse Expo. Let me start by saying it was never my fantasy to spend a few days standing on the cement floor of a convention hall, under fluorescent lights with no windows. It came with the extra tease that people walked by all day long, on the way to the barn where the horses are stalled, while I stood behind my book table.

The other authors did a great job of hawking their books, confidently asking people passing to stop and look, and I just couldn’t start the conversation with buy mine!

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not retired and I don’t have a trust fund. I need book sales just as much as anyone. At the same time, I can only do this selling thing the way I can do it. If I start to feel like the guy at the state fair selling the Chop-o-matic… well, it won’t work for me. It’s awkward; I’m the one who hates it when people try to sell me things. Clearly, I have issues. So I was cross-dressing as an author, wishing I was in the barn where I belong, and trying to find the words that wouldn’t betray my books or me.

That was when I met you.

You were the Mom who knew nothing about horses, but came along with your daughter who was transforming herself in this horse world you don’t understand. All you could see was how beautiful and competent she’s becoming.

You were the husband of the woman who stopped to tell me she loved my blog; you were quiet until we compared dirt bikes to horses, and found we had a sense of humor in common.

You were the lonely horse owner who came back a few times to tell me again about how your rescue horse chose you, and follows you, and shares your heart in a way that has never happened before in the history of mankind.

You were the elderly woman who no longer rides, but still belonged there with us.

And maybe my favorite: the teen girl whose friends competed, while she stayed loyal to the leased,  lame, and un-rideable horse who was her best friend. What a horsewoman she’ll make!

Thanks for the reminder that authors, even a memoirist like me, need to tell the personal story that is a shared experience. Sometimes we get so wound up in our own subplot, that we can’t see the bigger story. (Replay the famous Rick-Ilsa Hill of Beans speech from Casablanca one more time!) I could have written a chapter for each of the people I met. Is this where the term Dear Reader comes from? It’s a term I’ll use will full heartfelt affection from now on. I loved meeting you.

In the meanwhile, it’s springtime on the high prairie! It isn’t green yet, but the birds are back and the hibernation is over. We’re all a little itchy to get on with Our Upcoming Events!

Midwest Horse Fair , April 15-17, in Madison, WI. I will be in the Horse’n Around Magazine booth, #2304. Drop by and tell me about your horse!
Mountain of Authors, April 23, 11-5, Pikes Peak Library District, at Library 21c, located at 1175 Chapel Hills Dr, CS, 80920. This is an informative day with speakers and a wealth of local talent.
WEBINAR Calming Signals: Are you Listening?, May 10, 7pm ET, 5pm,MT. Windrush Farm in Massachusetts invited me to create a webinar. It’s available for anyone to watch live, or taped at a later time, with proceeds to benefit their therapeutic riding program. Who knew making this presentation would be so much fun?
Horse Symposium, Oslo, Norway. October 29-30. International speakers on horse welfare. I’ll present on Leadership that Builds Confidence and Ulcers and Stress. I’m very excited about meeting the people at this event.

This week I’m off to Madison, WI, for the Midwest Horse Fair. Please stop by and distract me from myself!

For as solitary as writing is, it’s also the thing that brings so many intriguing people into my experience. I am so profoundly grateful to you, DEAR READER, for the stories you share with me, as we exchange notes on this horse/life. It’s the thing I never expect but appreciate the most–the reminder that we are all more alike than different. Thank you.

 

 

Donkey Skills for the Recovering Introvert

They say you always remember your first. Back then you were worthless for anything but daydreaming. Tossing in damp sheets at night, waking to a full moon, and playing it out in your head, over and over again. Then up in the wee hours, clutching a cup of tea, and worrying about how it would all work out in the end. I’m talking about book writing, of course.

“There is a romantic notion to writing a novel, especially when you are starting it. […] A lot of 50-page unfinished novels are sitting in a lot of drawers across this country. Well, what it takes at that point is discipline […] It’s largely an act of perseverance […] The story really wants to defeat you, and you just have to be more mulish than the story.”— Khaled Hosseini

Stubborn? Being more “mulish” than the story? Ha! We totally own that; us donkeys are the stuff that inspired mules in the first place. Let the writing romance continue!

If you ask me, writing is the easy and fun part. The challenging part–the Big Girl Panties part–came later. Yes, I created this blog to whine about my dysfunctional relationship with the scary bits–the publishing and promotional aspects.

Silly me. It ends up that experience really is the best teacher, and to my surprise, even the business parts are wild fun. I’ve become absolutely chatty. Maybe I’m channeling Edgar Rice Burro.

Here are my upcoming events. Come and introduce yourself…

Rocky Mountain Horse Expo, Denver, March 11-13, NE corner of the Expo Hall. I’ll be in the Author’s Co-op booth, signing both my books and talking about horses.
Mile High Mustang Club, Elizabeth, CO, March 22, 6:30pm: Speaking on Relationship Advice from Your Horse: Leadership that builds confidence in both partners.
Midwest Horse Fair, Madison, WI, April 15-17, with the Horse’n Around Magazine (booth 2304 in the main hall of EXPO building) signing book and still talking about horses.
Mainstay Farm Clinic. Richmond, IL, April 18th, private clinic.


Mountain of Authors, Pikes Peak Library District. Colorado Springs, CO, Saturday, April 23.
Webinar for Windrush Farm, May 10th, Calming Signals: Are You Listening? (info here: http://wp.me/p2G3Wf-66 ) Anyone can join us; proceeds benefit their therapeutic riding program!
Horse Symposium, Oslo, Norway, October 29-30. Presenter, more details to follow.

If you belong to a group that might enjoy a presentation or clinic, contact me through the link at the top of the page. I’d be happy to talk about any ideas you have.

And please, the usual heartfelt request to please take a moment and post a review–Stable Relation if you haven’t already, or Relaxed & Forward, when you’ve finished it–to Amazon, Goodreads, and Barnes and Noble. Indie books only stay afloat by word of mouth, so I count on you. Reviews keep the title alive on the search engines and that means that my books come up on other pages as a recommendation. It’s incredibly valuable in getting them in front of brand new eyes. In this way, Amazon and Barnes and Noble actually advertise for me, and in case it isn’t obvious, my advertising budget could use the help.

Whether you leave a review or not, most of all know that I appreciate each of you taking the risk on my books. Reading time is a precious commodity and sharing that means so much. Thank you for letting me be on your nightstand.

At the beginning of this adventure, I was waving a white flag and whining about being an introvert. Shame on me. I was mulish enough to write the books in the first place; I just needed to adjust my ears a bit. I’ve got some old time donkey traits that serve me well. I’ll bray it out just like Edgar, with confidence, honesty, and when required, stubbornness. Why, it’s a compliment when you look at it in the right light.

Is there some dream that your past is keeping you shy about? Because I’m pretty sure we all have an inner donkey if we look. I’d bet my ass on it.

Relaxed & Forward: My Secret Wish

I’ll say it again. The hardest part of this writing and publishing process for me is always the description of the book–that paragraph beside the cover image on the Amazon or Barnes and Noble page. Those few words are supposed to perfectly define the book and simultaneously demand it be purchased. Out of millions of books languishing in the mists.

Before Stable Relation came out, I spent a laborious week scrutinizing each word of that one measly paragraph, but when the first reviews came in, I realized that they described the book better than I had. My words failed my own words.

So a manuscript of  eighty thousand words–think about what a huge number of words that is to wrangle into a meaningful order in the first place–lost forever if that tiny preview blurb doesn’t sell hot and fast.  No pressure.

In defense of writers, sometimes there’s a gap between what we think we wrote and what the readers finds. We can never control, or even guess, how the book will be received. I did a good deal of tongue-biting when I was writing Stable Relation. I wanted to tell the story in a way that was meaningful and interesting. I thought about pace, I edited entire chapters out, and I wanted to make sense in a non-chronological way. Most of all, I didn’t want to talk down to readers; I wanted them to have their way with the book. Then those eighty thousand words got squeezed to a blurb, quickly becoming my least favorite word ever. Blurb sounds too much like burp.

Same drama for the second book Relaxed and Forward: Relationship Advice from Your Horse. Only this time it isn’t a story but rather a collection of essays. Publishers will tell you that format is even harder to sell than memoirs, if that could be possible. With that dismal vote of confidence, I spent the two weeks tweezering words and fussing with clauses until I finally sputtered to a halt at this particular blurb. I didn’t finish it so much as surrender to it, letting my finger finally collapse on the finish button. Then I waited.

Sure enough. Within a few days, one of my favorite readers referred to Relaxed & Forward as a Daily Devotional. What she said! Exactly.

Devoted is defined as love, loyalty, or enthusiasm for an individual, activity, or cause. The first three verbs define a rider and the last three nouns are synonyms for ways to commit to a horse.

One of my strongest beliefs about training, teaching, or about anything else in life, is that attitude outweighs subject matter. Horses read our intention much more than judge our technique. Riders are constantly challenged to stay fresh and new, and be, well, inspired. I wanted this book to be the middle of that conversation, not a cover-to-cover read so much as a small spark of idea to ponder an essay at a time.

NEWS THIS WEEK: **I’ve been invited to do a project that I’m really excited about. Horses and riders will benefit and it will be available to a huge audience. It’s in the planning stages right now, but expect to hear all about it. ** Plans are proceeding for the Midwest Horse Fair the weekend of April 15th in Madison, WI. We’re booth 2304 in the main hall of EXPO building. If you plan on going, I’d love to meet you. ** I’m negotiating possibly being at the Horse Expo in Denver next month with my books. ** It’s been really fun sending signed books out (link at top of page) and talking with readers. Let me know if you’d like a personally inscribed copy of either of my books.

And the usual heartfelt request to please take a moment and post a review–Stable Relation if you haven’t already, or Relaxed & Forward, when you’ve finished it–to Amazon, Goodreads, and Barnes and Noble. Indie books only stay float by word of mouth, and that is up to you. Whether you leave a review or not, know that I appreciate each of you taking the risk on my books. Reading time is a precious commodity and sharing that with me means so much.

So here is my secret fantasy: Some writers aspire to win a Pulitzer, some want their masterpiece to be an elegant coffee table book. My dream for Relaxed & Forward is to be…dare I say it…a bathroom book. In barns across the country. Just 800 words of inspiration before you ride… and most riders always make that one stop first.

You Have a Book In You

They say everyone has a book in them. At least one. Of course that opens up speculation about where that book might be hiding. Some probably live in stomachs because statistics say books about cooking are a popular genre. I’ll just pause here to give you a minute to imagine the places other genres may wait unwritten…

My first book, Stable Relation, spent years pounding on the backside of my eyeballs, until I could see nothing else. I’m visual that way.

There’s no question that we all have book inside, the real question is how to get it out!

Relaxed and forward are the words that I like best to describe the foundation of the dressage training pyramid; it’s a sweet, gliding gait where there’s no resistance between a horse and rider. It’s skating on ice with no hands. It’s wide-open possibility.

I also like the words relaxed and forward to describe a personal style that I aspire to–as a trainer, a writer, and a friend. So, six years ago, Relaxed & Forward became the name of my blog, too. Although I wrote about my farm and training horses, I used my blog primarily as a tool to get back to writing. Each week I gave myself an assignment; to be poignant, or humorous, or my personal favorite, to describe something hard to describe. I’ve never missed my Friday post time, and this is where I thank the eleven people who read my blog that first year. And the number exploded by seven or eight the next year. I was that hot.

Writing alternately feels like a floating waltz or a death march. I had to make friends with grammar. It sounds like no big deal, but spell check doesn’t fix “now” when you meant to type “know.” And don’t even start with me on word tense. Here’s where I remind you that writing, riding or anything else done well, is hard work. There’s a Hollywood dream of the horse and rider who save each other, or can jump anything, or dance in unison while the Olympic theme plays in the background–it’s all just so romantic. And such a lie.

When I see that wonderful relaxed and forward ride, I always see it as an affirmation of hours of focus and concentration… and standing in muck. Listening as well as asking, back and forth, until horse and rider are of the same mind. It takes work and struggle to make something look easy and light.

So my first blogs where short and ungainly. The spark of what my writing might become was there, but it was awkward and shy. It’s who we are; introverts saying, “Hey, look at me,” and all the while covering our ears and cringing. Looking back on those early blogs is bittersweet, but as I pulled the Relaxed & Forward book together, I decided to include them, like snapshots of me with my first pony. We all have to start somewhere.

And here it is: Relaxed & Forward: Relationship Advice from Your Horse. For those of you who know my blog, now you can blog binge, mouse-free! For those of you who haven’t followed the blog, you’re in for a treat. Whether you have a horse, dog, kids, or a spouse; this stuff works–because it’s about relationship.

THIS WEEK: I’m having a good time looking at my page on Amazon and seeing two book covers (here). This time, I’m sending signed books out (link at top of page) and enjoying the personal connection. It’s fun to send them off in all directions to readers who feel like friends. And, of course, I’m back to begging for reviews. Please take a moment and post a review–Stable Relation if you haven’t already or Relaxed & Forward, when you’ve finished it, to Amazon, Goodreads, and Barnes and Noble. Indie books only stay float by word of mouth, so the rest is up to you.

How does the book get outside of you? It starts with one single word on a page, standing against a wall of resistance, doubt, and common sense. You can stare at the wall or squeeze out a second word. It won’t be as good as the first one. And you know the wall has a name, but even saying it out loud is dangerous: writer’s block. It looms before your next word with big square shoulders, shaking its head. Naturally, it says nothing. It just casts a shadow on the page but with a distracting glittery spark that’s special. Like suffering for art is a higher calling.

Well, snap out of it. Art is work. And that’s the same killjoy bully that reminds you at every moment that you aren’t smart enough, strong enough, or special in any way–and he hasn’t evolved a lick since you met him in first grade.

Choose: Stare at that stupid wall or find the third word. Pick one that doesn’t fit but write it out anyway. It might be a halting rhythm at first and the line of travel may wander. Get comfortable in your seat, relax your shoulders, and take a deep breath. Push on ahead and ride a whole sentence–feel the rhythm of the stride. There’s a rocking motion as the air moves over your skin. Be still and give your bully a voice of judgment, or head for the horizon until relaxed and forward is your normal gait. Bullies be damned; let your words carry you away.

Relaxed & Forward: Available Monday!

 

RELAXED & FORWARD: RELATIONSHIP ADVICE FROM YOUR HORSE.

The first proof of the new book, Relaxed & Forward arrived… and my crack editorial staff have checked it out. It’s absolutely beautiful. I’m ringing the dinner bell; come and get it!

Relaxed and forward are the words that I like best to describe the foundation of the dressage training pyramid; that sweet, positive spot with horses where partnership blossoms and good work comes easily. I like the same description for people.

And Here it is! For those of you who know my blog, now you can blog binge, mouse-free! For those of you who haven’t followed the blog, you’re in for a treat. Whether you have a horse, dog, kids, or a spouse; this stuff works–because it’s about relationship. Here’s part of what it says on the back cover:

We’ve been besotted with horses since they had three toes. From the popular Relaxed and Forward blog comes training advice combining the everyday fundamentals of dressage with mutual listening skills. Blake writes with a profound respect for horses and an articulate voice for humans, blending equal parts inspiration and un-common sense. It’s serious training communicated with humor and lightness, because horses like cheerful riders.

The book is available now at all online retailers. Including Amazon, Barnes & Noble (soon), Itunes, etc.

If you are an eBook reader, you can get it on Smashwords (here).

And if you want A SIGNED COPY, click (here). It will take a bit longer, and cost more than Amazon, but I’ll inscribe it to you and your horse.

Happy New Year: It’s Still About the Tortoise and the Hare.

It seems to me that we sometimes approach this whole New Year resolution thing like school-yard bullies.

We start by nitpicking one bit of self-loathing: maybe it’s a bad hair day but usually it’s our thighs. And then we multiply it to a wide rant about fat bellies, lazy exercise, old muscles, clothes that don’t fit, sore feet, and ugly hands. Then, not to be accused of lacking vision, we add on hating our lousy job, never having enough money, and being under appreciated in our relationships. Did we leave anything out?

Next we make a strict plan that starting January first we will change everything.

Don’t even try. Focusing on what’s wrong never works. The reason New Year resolutions fail is that we cut our throats right before we start. Short of being incarcerated in a prison cell, totally changing an entire life in a day is pretty unreasonable. Sure, who wouldn’t want to be young, thin, smart, and rich in the time it takes to eat a bag of chips, but we inevitably fail. Life gets demoted to the chronic dieter’s dilemma: Losing weight fast, and then gaining it right back with an extra five pounds.

That’s when our evil twin, the part of us that’s the mean girl in school, puts her hand on her hip, flips her hair, and shakes her index finger to inform us we’re still the same loser we used to be, and a year older. In other words, we get cynical.

But I’m still a sucker for New Years. I love the idea of getting a fresh start; a do-over with a breath of optimism. The secret is to plan to under-achieve. Like three years ago when I decided I could write a book–just one page at a time.

I think there’s a reason that the fable of The Tortoise and the Hare has endured so long with its message of patience and kindness.

And so my wish for each of you in the New Year is tiny turtle-like change, small enough to accomplish with ease and self-love. Let gratitude be the cherry on top. What if real personal success comes from lowering our expectations enough that every breath is a joy? That every breeze is a spark of inspiration, until every step becomes an affirmation of the next step, until we pause from praising the path, and notice we’re at the destination. Less suffering, more gratitude.

THIS WEEK: It’s been my habit here to include an update, but in light of this holiday that I love… I’ll just say it’s crazy: I’m working on three books, writing two blogs, a smattering of articles, and doing book promotion, along with my usual occupation–boarding and training horses. And my dogs still like me. If you had told me this was even possible two years ago as I stared at page one of Stable Relation, I’d still be slumped in a paralyzed flop sweat, squinting at a blank page.

Happy New Year! Look in the mirror and thank your best friend. Then find an itty-bitty, tiny corner of a dream and sink your teeth into it like a ten-pound terrier.

It’s Not Exactly Like Seeing Dead People

My father came to my last book talk. For those of you squinting, tilting your heads, and doing the math… Yes, he departed this world twenty-four years ago, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy a good haunt. We’re family, after all.

This book talk was at the local library and the program director introduced me to a man before the talk started. He was a generation older than me, sitting in the back row wearing a ball cap. His faded eyes narrowed as he stood up. The first thing he told me was that people usually got really mad at him when he came to things like this. He didn’t smile.

That was when I recognized something familiar in this contrary old man. Lots of us have complicated relationships with our fathers. It’s a love so humorless and fierce that it can feel like hate. I’ve tried to make peace with that dark love forever, but I’ve settled for getting better at recognizing it dressed up like someone who knows what buttons to push. Not that my father would have gone to a book talk during his life. Unless it was Louis L’Amour at the local pancake house.

The book talk started by playing my book trailer on a projector. I am so sweet on that trailer; the music makes me mushy. Then I read a couple of passages and answered a few questions. After we adjourned, the old man came to me and announced that he disagreed with me on a few things. He said he was against five acre horse properties. I nodded; it would be fine with me if we all had more land. He said all he ever rode where rescue horses; that he retrained them. So I thanked him for helping the horses.

See how good I’ve gotten at this? I used to be more defensive but I’m the one who thinks you can improve family relationships post-death. It wasn’t obvious at first; I’d get aggravated by someone, or even just uncomfortable. It would stick in my brain until it dawned on me that it wasn’t them at all, but a splinter of memory, still festering. And I had one more chance to get it right.

Then the big finale… he told me that all my horses were therapy horses and that was fine for me. He was dismissive of my training methods. His horses needed to earn their feed and not just stand around, he said, and this positive training thing didn’t work. He’d seen Parelli, he said. He gestured with both hands, wet his teeth, preparing to tell me the biggest, filthy-worst thing–that he’d seen Parelli hit a horse. I wish that was news but he’s nowhere near the first person to make that claim. He was looking at me hard, waiting for a response. First, I did the thing horses taught me. I took a breath and exhaled, to slow things down. My shoulders dropped and I smiled. I told him that I grew up just like him; riding the bad horses until they were good horses. He’s like lots of horsemen who think women are too soft to train horses, so I assure him that I’m not the one who baby talks and carries treats in my pocket; I like a good working horse as much as he does. And I thanked him for coming.

Just as he turned to go, he leaned close again and whispered, “I liked that you did what you had to do. And that you said how it felt.” and he was gone. Was that a compliment? It’s crazy what you think you hear when the blood isn’t pounding in your ears.

THIS WEEK: If you’d like a signed book, there’s a link above. This Saturday, the 19th from 2-4pm, I’ll be at The Tack Collection, 104 N Harrison Ave, Unit A, in Lafayette, Colorado. (303-666-5364) It’s my first stop in Northern Colorado and I hope to see you there.

And there is a bit of finger drumming, as I wait for the new year. The second book, Relaxed & Forward, Relationship Advice from Your Horse is ready for the final proof process, but rather than letting it get lost in the holiday rush, I’m waiting for 2016. Impatiently.

BTW: If you’ve already left a review on Amazon, thank you, and if it isn’t too much, please consider asking your friends to do the same. It takes a village for an indie book to float–a boisterous, insistent village who calls all the neighbors in to help. As always, I’m in your debt. Thank you for supporting Stable Relation.

 When I moved to my farm, I wanted to tell my father. Even after he passed, seeking his disapproval was a habit hard to break. At the same time, there’s a peace that comes with realistic expectations. So I don’t wonder what my father would have thought of my book. He would never have read it. We both know I’m no Louis L’Amour.