Category Archives: blather

September 17, 2020 · 11:29 am

Life in perpetual smoke

First of all…I am (at the moment) nowhere near any active big fires.

However, the Oregon wildfires have had some impacts on me–emotionally, as places I knew as a child and young adult either went up in flames or have been under threat. But I’ve had a lot of friends affected by the fires. Some have lost homes and vacation cabins. So far no deaths. The Holiday Farm fire near Eugene was very visceral, especially as my old high school was first an evacuation center, then was under assorted evacuation warnings. The small valley northeast of Eugene where I lived from ages 9-20 was evacuated and under threat. One of my favorite places in the Eugene-Springfield area, the McKenzie River corridor, was hard hit by the fires. And while I knew places up the Santiam, I just never have had the same connection to Detroit etc that I did to Blue River. Difference between childhood and adult lives, I guess.

There’s been a more tangible affect from the fires, though, and that’s been heavy smoke. Ever since the winds shifted back to a normal seasonal flow of sorts, my small town three hundred miles from those big Cascade fires has been buried in smoke. Not to the same degree as Portland, Seattle, Salem, and Eugene…but still hovering around 200 AOI for nearly a week.

One problem is that my sinuses (but fortunately not my lungs, apparently) are very reactive to smoke. Legacy of growing up with heavy cigarette smokers and then spending several weeks every summer experiencing smoke from grass seed field burning in the lower Willamette Valley. Back in the 60s and very early 70s there weren’t many regulations about field burning, and it was considered necessary to sterilize the field against weeds and other problems after harvest. I do remember the awful day (Black Tuesday? Friday?) when Eugene and Springfield got socked in with smoke so bad that the skies were a lot like we’re seeing in pictures of the Willamette Valley under 500+ AQIs.

After that, there were plans to only burn when the winds blew in a certain direction. But…that brought the smoke from the Willamette Valley into that little valley where I lived. It wasn’t at the same sustained level as the current wildfire smoke–that is, it would clear out from day to day. All the same, I had a lot of smoke exposure. When I became an adult, my reactive sinuses kept me from doing a lot of barhopping because…well, I’d get nailed by cigarette smoke. Going to a bar to hear a band–or just about any venue in that era–meant dealing with smokers and exposure issues.

When the wildfire smoke settled in here, in NE Oregon, at first I wasn’t too worried. We’ve dealt with heavy smoke before and I wasn’t reactive.

Not so this time. By the second day of heavy, choking smoke, my sinuses were shutting down and I was having problems. Oh, the pulse oximeter said I was all right, so it was just the sinuses flaring bad. I ended up grabbing one of the N95 dust masks with valves to wear inside to see if that helped, and started running a small essential oil diffuser with just water in it to see if that helped (note: I CAN’T DO OILS WHEN MY SINUSES ARE LIKE THIS. PLEASE DO NOT START RECOMMENDING THAT I USE OILS OR HERBS OR ANYTHING AROMATIC. THE SCENT MAKES THINGS WORSE IN A SINUS FLARE. I WILL YELL AT YOU IF YOU DO.). It did, and I didn’t need to take any decongestants–yay.

That was a week ago. I’m still wearing the mask during the daytime because my sinuses are much happier with me when I do.

Yesterday, I took advantage of diminished levels to ride my horse from one pasture to another. It knocked me out afterward because “diminished levels” still meant an AQI of 170 or so.

But progress is happening. The AQI is declining by ten points a day now. We have an air purifier on order, as well as a bigger humidifier/diffuser.

I can even go for short periods during the day without wearing the mask.

All the same, this is one thing from my childhood that I really am not thrilled about reexperiencing. Sigh.

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September 30, 2019 · 9:44 am

Autumn, and miscellaneous blathering

We got hit with the trailing edge of the early autumn snowpocalypse here in Northeastern Oregon. No snow on the valley floor that lasted for very long (a skiff at higher elevations in the valley that melted off), but snow in the mountains–not that we could see them all weekend. This morning, though, I came out of the bedroom to the full glory of snow-covered Wallowas–always a stunning sight.

One of my Facebook friends commented this morning that she has reverse SAD, and the coming of cooler weather and cloudy skies always seems to reboot her brain to be more effective. I’ve found that to be the case for myself as well. This summer was one of my better ones, thanks to cooler temperatures and the Summer Ritual (basically, going out in the back yard about 9 pm with chair and drink, and staring at the Milky Way for an hour or so while waiting for the evening cooling breeze to kick in. Only works when we’re not choked up by wildfire smoke–and yes, it’s quite visible. The advantage of being in a small town). All the same, the brain wasn’t quite kicking in like it should, even though I was cranking out an average of about 2000 words a day on Judgment of Honor. Judgment has been about the only thing I’ve been able to write. No essays. No blog posts. No promotion for Choices of Honor (though I’m also focusing on getting a big promotion prepared once I release Judgment).

On the other hand, the Summer Ritual included a lot of thinking about the development of Judgment, followed by journaling what I’d been thinking about. It does seem to be a useful pattern, and something I’m going to try to carry on (not the sitting outside staring at the sky part in winter, nope!). Journaling on both paper and pixels really does help my writing process.

But much of what I’ve been thinking about lately has been the march of time and savoring the best parts of nature around me. For some reason I seem to be able to be more in the moment this year. That’s been a good thing.

Meanwhile, we’re getting a lot of action at the bird feeder. A family flock of about ten evening grosbeaks is coming to forage on the ground underneath the main feeder, along with a similar-sized flock of white-crowned sparrows. The quail come in occasionally. Siskins and goldfinches are arguing over the nyger feeder, and finches, chickadees, and juncos fight over the sunflower seeds. Then there’s the four-legged visitors. During the Summer Ritual, I’d occasionally startle up the town deer drifting through the yard to feed. They were not happy about the human sitting in the yard and I got several disgruntled looks. Last night I looked out the window to see a forked horn buck lying down under the feeder. I spooked him off–no need for him to develop that habit.

Mocha is getting back to her old self in many ways. I seem to have discovered the way to keep her from going lame in the arena only to be sound the minute her hooves leave it. Part of it is getting very strict about riding in contact and collection again–she finally seems to have the strength to do that again. Another part is schooling even on the roads. We did a lot of short but intense works at walk and trot on the gravel roads, with lateral work being a big part of it. I finally figured out that she has shoulder issues, and the way to combat those issues is to keep her from slopping around on her front end, but also doing the lateral pieces–working on counterbend and two-tracking, primarily. Two-tracking serpentines on the road as well as standard two-tracking (two-tracking is moving sideways and forward. Straight is just how it sounds, while two-tracking serpentines means working in curving lines while going forward and sideways). Now that we’re back at the ranch, she gets a short period of bitting up in the round pen at walk and trot, because she’s also been getting heavy in my hands while doing this work. Bitting up helps her get off of my hands.

At first she was grumpy about the contact (for about three rides). Then muscle memory kicked in. We had much less stumbling riding downhill on gravel, even when I rode her down from the pasture in just a halter and lead. And she seems to be happy with the work.

The other piece of keeping her arena-sound? Support boots on her forelegs. Now I know that conventional wisdom says those boots don’t do much. However, my old trainer used to swear by them, especially for older horses. It’s in part a psychological piece for Mocha because she spent many years working in boots. But between collection and boots, we have much fewer incidences of her catching her toe (usually the right one) and hobbling along (something she also did on the roads but would recover from). One of the issues is that she was struggling with pain when we moved here, and she had memories of working in pain in the arena. So I have been working on creating new memories of successful, painless arena work. Seems to be effective so far.

This summer I also have been developing a collection of science fiction-themed quilting things. Table runners, bowl cozies, and potholders, mainly, but I’ve also made an apron and a wall hanging. From a survey of Etsy, I’ve found that there are a LOT of science fiction-themed oven mitts and aprons (more mitts than aprons) but not so many table runners, bowl cozies, and potholders. A lot of those are also media tie-ins. So I’ve been sewing table runners, bowl cozies, and potholders. One cozy earned a blue ribbon at the county fair. A potholder set earned a red, as did a wall hanging. The table runner didn’t place, but hey, it was only the second one of that design. I’ve decided to start putting things in convention art shows and start up a shop on Etsy. That should launch by the middle of October. I just need to get pictures of the current stock.

In any case, I am hoping that now that the heat is going away, I can be productive.

Boy am I going to be in bad shape as climate change progresses. Guess it’s a good thing that I am old, because I’m clearly one who is not going to adapt well to these changes. Le sigh.

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April 21, 2018 · 9:34 am

Well that was a week

An exhausting, at times exciting, but still tiring week. Husband had some eye appointments in Portland that bracketed the weekend, but there was enough stuff up in the air that I only could really plan one get-together with someone I’ve missed except for tiny grabs for the last few trips. It was probably a good thing I didn’t overplan the Portland time, as I ended up down flat sick from an allergic reaction to all the damn pollen. The same thing happened last year, and I had a less extreme reaction in March, so….yeah. I suspect this means that this is now a thing. On the other hand, I found a cromolyn sodium nasal spray and that’s really helping with things, much better than its steroidal cousin and much less harsh. So I now need to find someplace other than the Kaiser Pharmacy to buy it OTC.

We did spend two days skiing. The first day was lovely in spite of the stormy weather, and the second day was full of the heavy deep powder the Cascades is known for. Three runs and not only was my back done in but my knee was complaining. So we stopped. We’d considered skiing on our way home yesterday, but I was so tired and hurting that I determined it wasn’t a good idea. All the same, everything works really well on the slopes again. I’ve got my control back and I’m not struggling like I was so much of the time last year. I’m now thinking that everything I’m doing to address the lower back pain is paying off in this respect. Yay!

Then we spent two days hunting razor clams. OMG. Both days were hard clamming days. Lots of false shows to fake us out, which meant a LOT of digging. The first day wasn’t too bad as we were four clams shy of a full limit. The lot were amongst the biggest clams we’ve ever dug, though, consistently large. I found a medium-sized cockle on the beach, still alive, and claimed it. That day was also good for finding hermit crabs, a live snail, and sandpipers. At one point I stood still as the sandpipers scurried around me, several coming within five feet of me. Sweet.

It was also a lovely day for April on the Oregon Coast. Very light wind, sunny, and relatively warm. A good day to be down on the beach, but after the hard work clamming none of us felt like following up with fishing like we had planned.

The second day was tougher. We never did get any good clam shows, and ended up with just one limit between the three of us. It was another gorgeous warm day on the beach, though. Not as much bird action, nor did I find any crabs. My back ached so bad that I went back to the truck and brainstormed the latest rough draft work, including a quick sketch on a short story idea.

 

Then we packed up, went back to Portland, and headed back to Enterprise yesterday. Three short story ideas mugged me on the way back. I’m not sure why that part of my brain is waking up again–perhaps being finished with Netwalk, and two-thirds of the way through Goddess’s Honor is a factor? Dunno, but I’m not going to ignore it. I sketched the three stories out last night. They’re all tied to some other stories I’ve been working on, contemporary fantasy or Western fantasy.

And now for the first time in a week I’m not having to wake up and rush around to go somewhere. Later on today I’m going to introduce Miss Mocha to the wonderful world of saddlebags. But spring is erupting in Wallowa County and I’m itching to get on the front porch for a porch writing session. Ah. Lovely.

 

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November 23, 2017 · 9:38 pm

Another busy day

Whew. Still a little tired from the week of Orycon. A full week? Well, yes, given that we’re based in Enterprise. The drive down on Thursday, then three days of the con, then a quick run to Clatskanie which turned into an extra trip because our friend’s stuff got mixed up with ours…on what is now being called a totally crazy holiday driving day…I believe it! Then back to Enterprise on another heavy traffic day. It was an intense time. Orycon deserves its own post but not happening tonight.

Today was a bit of a laid back day. I got up, looked at the forecast, and realized I needed to hustle and get out to the ranch to ride before the deluge hit. So I did. Miss Mocha actually walked most of the way up to me instead of making me come to her. Guess she missed the week without grain or treats. The roan filly is attached to her pretty strongly and followed us throughout the ride with occasional plaintive whickers. When I took Mocha out of the field she kept crying for Mocha. Mocha wasn’t particularly fretful, though. I did catch her licking the salt block with the roan filly and another weanling, so I guess Miss Mocha and Marshall the gelding are taking over babysitter duties. Or something.

Then I went and set up the table for Jingle through Joseph. Books, crafts, and jewelry. Hoping to do well over the next two weekends.

Still tired and very, very grateful for the new back massager. One way or another I’m gonna beat some of this pain syndrome I’ve been fighting. I can tell it makes a difference, just in how balanced I feel on my feet. But damn, sure is time-consuming. Oh well. If it works….

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November 12, 2017 · 9:08 pm

Riding into fall and getting into the writing mode again

If someone had told me as recently as three years ago that I would be galloping Mocha in a stubblefield with gopher holes scattered throughout, I’d have said they were nuts.

So guess what I was doing today? Well, besides galloping, we did a bit of schooling. Little mare was energetic and ready to go, and we not only galloped but did some regular schooling. She was having problems with left to right flying lead changes in midsummer in the arena. Once she moved back down to the ranch and into the stubblefield pasture, I started working on some of our old schooling moves, including inside and outside bend in circles at the walk, two-tracking, and serpentines at trot and canter. Over the course of the last month, she’s gotten smoother and better at those changes.

I’m still trying to figure out what is going on with her. At one point I thought she might have a metabolic syndrome. These days, I’m leaning more toward a long-term, chronic pain problem caused by improper angles in her front feet and her SI joint and her hocks fusing. Somehow, last November, all of a sudden some movements became easier for Mocha and she’s now running sound on a regular basis. She gained weight back in her topline and she is relaxed and happy. I think everything stopped fusing and she finally remodeled her muscles to fit the new angles–whatever it is, I’m grateful.

She doesn’t necessarily act like a 17-year-old mare, except for the way she responds to schooling. Otherwise, the energy levels remind me of Mocha as a younger horse. I’m the one who has to remember to cool her out and spend time warming up. Left to herself, I think she’d take off and be a real wild woman at speed.

I also spend time trying to figure out what her herd dynamics are. She seems to be a lower-level trickster, liking to get her friends moving and stirred up when she feels like it.

All in all, though, it’s fun.

The last two weeks have played havoc with a lot of my writing stuff, as well as my recording of the books I’ve read on Goodreads. I met my reading challenge over there–150 books. I think that’s a bit of a push for me, but we’ll see what my final count for the year will be.

I finally sat down today and started fixing some of the short story submission stuff that got mucked up in the SpiritOne debacle. Fortunately, it appears that I got a bunch of stories rejected before the old email went belly up, which is good. The remaining market is…swamped, so I think I can assume a rejection. Whew. That’s back to normal. But it’s still just seven stories, so at some point I need to sit down and write some spec stories to be sending out to markets. Then I need to work on the anthology, as well as put together the Learning in Space: Bess and Alex compilation. At one point I thought I’d have that book ready for Orycon, but really? I don’t do a lot of sales there. If I can get it ready for even the last part of Jingle thru Joseph, that would be good. Otherwise…

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November 11, 2017 · 9:27 pm

Hurricane Creek hike

So today was pretty much a decadent, no craft, no writing sort of day. It was nice, sunny, and a bit cold. So we went up Hurricane Creek for a little hike of about six miles total, three out, three back.

I had to contrast today’s hike with what we were doing in the Southwest just two and a half weeks ago. Then, I struggled up slickrock to reach Delicate Arch, and fretted because my hips didn’t like me, my feet hurt, my knees hurt, and it seemed harder than it should be to make that climb with that elevation gain. It was a pattern that seemed to be constant in Arches National Park, and I eventually decided it must be due to the texture of the sandy portions and the nature of slickrock.

Today I hiked farther, in snow and ice, with much less effort even though there was a comparable elevation gain. The only touchy places were on the return, in several icy downhill pitches. My knee started aching a little, but overall? Much easier to hike three times as far than it was in the Southwest.

Still scratching my head over that. Granted, the last night in Moab, I had something weird pop up in my dreams–this is not your place. That floored me. I’ve liked the Southwest and it was a nice trip, with lovely fall colors against the red rocks and all. All the same, that dream kind of coalesced…something…that kept coming up even though I kept denying it. Granted, Montecello didn’t sit well with me for some reason, somewhat echoing the feelings I had there the last time we stayed in that town. But Moab? There’s a small literary scene, an art scene, I bought new snow boots at a serious discount in Moab…and yet there was that continuing theme throughout my dreams that night.

This is not your place.

Maybe that’s why Hurricane Creek felt so good, because since we’ve been back in Enterprise I’ve felt even more at home. My boots grabbed into the soil, giving me needed traction as we hiked along. I decided along the way that maybe I needed to invest in some hiking poles. But I didn’t struggle the way I did hiking in the Southwest. It was a perfect late fall day to hike up the creek, and we were far from the only ones hitting the trail. Patches of snow intermittently covered the trail, icy in places but nothing too bad. We examined the remains of the Falls Creek fire, studied several impressive avalanche remains, and otherwise had a nice hike.

In contrast, this is definitely my place. Not stark, steep red cliffs but rugged mountains with a whisper of snow on the tops. Gray, white, and brown cliffs with narrow ridged columns instead of flat iron-red slabs. Clouds skittering high over a narrow treed valley with baretopped mountains.

Hubby forgot the sandwiches so we only had a banana for lunch. That was okay. I forgot the big camera so no pictures.

And afterward, we did make one concession to craft and went to Joseph where I got more backing fabric for pillows. I’ll have pillows available to sell at Jingle thru Joseph, some Christmas-themed, others not. The first ones came out pretty well so I have hopes that I’ll have more nice ones.

A nice day. I probably should have worked on compiling Learning in Space but I didn’t.

Sometimes you just gotta goof off. After the past two weeks, I’ve earned this.

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November 10, 2017 · 9:47 pm

Contemplating a three day weekend

This morning I commented to the husband that it felt like I had finally come through the other end of a very intense and busy time. He looked at me. “You have been going full speed for the last couple of weeks. And next week is Orycon.”

Oh yeah. Orycon, then Jingle thru Joseph for two weekends, and then…it’s December, yeehaw!

But for some reason the past few weeks really feel nuts. Well, okay. Driving trip to the Southwest. Working while traveling. Trying to get the short story done for the anthology (for which I have to start doing edits). Facing this week of work, which involved cramming twice my usual work time into four days (thinking about this, um, yeah. 24 hours worth of work in 4 days is three days worth of a full time schedule. And I was sick two of those days. So. Yeah. Guess things have been a bit intense). And then last week was getting back from the Southwestern trip, getting ready for the Harvest Sale, then doing the Harvest Sale…okay, I can see why I was feeling a bit stressed and crazy. DUH.

The brief flirtation with snow appears to be fading. Oh, there’s still bits of snow and ice around, but it’s warmed up outside. Mocha worked up a respectable sweat but part of that was looking for an excuse to be Miss Drama Queen because she hadn’t been ridden in five days, and it was nippy. Her new pasture friend is clingy but…when I call, she comes to me and brings Mocha. So I give her a cookie. The two of them seem to have a nicely mellow friendship, though it’s hard to say for how much longer that will go on. All the same, they seem to be positive buddies. Mocha called to her when I turned Mocha loose, and her friend answered. Mocha galloped halfway out and her friend galloped to meet her. They sniffed noses, walked around a bit, then settled to graze. One of the two geldings in with them decided to come join them, while the other gelding who’s been a butt to Mocha was odd one out.

Riding today was pretty decent, at least until we went off on a new direction and Miss Drama Queen decided she needed to be…well, Miss Drama Queen. Not sure what set her off but she was skittery at a lot of stuff. I ended up taking up contact and making her collect up, which I usually don’t do when road riding.

Ah well, it’s good that she’s sparky and energetic at her age. It gives me hope that we’ll be riding together for a few more years.

Then home, and making two pillows.

But I’ve lost one of my SW Native American horse earrings. I had to search and search to find that pair. Went to brush my hand across my ears while at the computer earlier…and one earring was gone, the other one partially out. I hope that means I lost it here in the house and not at the barn or on the road. Darn it. It’s annoying because it is damnably hard to find Native horse figures, and I can’t seem to hand onto them (a turquoise pawn horsehead ring disappeared, too. A sign?). I looked and looked on our Southwestern trip, and the only thing I could find were horrifically spendy turquoise pendants, which weren’t what I wanted…I wanted a nice little pair of silver earrings like I have. Had.

Sigh.

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June 27, 2017 · 11:22 am

Lots of stuff going on….

As usual, June is flying by. Between MisCon and 4th of July, it always seems like I’m flying around getting things wrapped up for the end of the school year and then jumping into summer stuff. It’s no different now that I’m working online instead of in a classroom. OTOH, I’m less tired from working online, so that’s a win.

The late spring meant we’ve been dragging on getting the garden running and getting in the wood. But at last, we got the garden finished off in early June and it is happily growing at our friend S’s place in Clatskanie. This past week in Enterprise, we did get two loads of wood hauled, plus horse show stuff…

But there’s so much to blog about and I keep putting it off because, well, who wants to spam the linkage? I’m thinking now that I need to write some things but just not publish them. The alternative is not blogging at all…and I am discovering that I really don’t like that option, either.

So yeah. Time to start writing blog posts and timing them. I will post one soon talking about the two short pieces I have available on preorder right now. I also want to post about politics, because I’m contemplating a few things. I also want to write and post something about a few things I’ve been considering about writing process that has solidified to some extent by now. And then I also want to blog about the horse.

Meanwhile, I’m putting this one up. Hopefully we’ll see a flurry of posting soon.

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April 19, 2017 · 11:18 pm

Coming up on two years

Two years ago we were on the final stages of beginning our new retirement life split between two houses, and contemplating the Big Scary Move hauling the horse on the longest trailer ride she’d had in her life. While we still had things to do with both houses to reflect our changed lifestyle, including moving the son around in the Portland house, and setting things up there, we were taking the big leap and going back part-time to the place we had fallen in love with thirty-four years ago–the place where we started our post-college life, the place where we committed to each other and began our walk together through life. We knew that the transition would take time. In small places like Enterprise, you can’t force your way into the local scene. While we still had friends here, we knew that it would take time to settle in and get to know people and make connections.

What we didn’t know was if we would miss the urban life, or what shape our lives in Enterprise would take. I knew that I needed to do some sort of work, but what, I wasn’t sure. I had hopes of substituting in the local schools, but soon found that there was a lot of competition. I’d considered trying to tutor and offer classes, but early overtures didn’t quite mesh. So I settled back, focused on my writing, and adopted a “let it flow” mentality.

So far there’s been no regrets. I’ve been working online for my old school district for a year and a half now, an endeavor that started when I was called back to do special education assessment to fill in a big hole that circumstances popped up in February of 2016. Sub jobs are starting to drift my way. I may have some other things coming but haven’t signed any paperwork as yet…so….possibilities abound.

And there are more things. Today was the first day this spring where I took the laptop onto the front porch to write, finishing off the Exile’s Honor novelette that I hope to release by late May. I wrote and watched birds at the feeders we’ve finally gotten set up, and kept an eye on a storm moving across the mountains. Yesterday I took Mocha on one of the long road rides we are starting to do again this spring. We saw bald eagles, redtailed hawks, magpies, red-winged blackbirds, a blue heron, California quail, a ringnecked China pheasant rooster, and lots of deer. We went down a road new to us so she was on her toes, full of energy and lining out in a big, bold, forward walk with her head and neck level, ears pricked forward on a loose rein.

Is it the life I’d visualized and anticipated during all those years in Portland dreaming about returning? Yes…and no. It was a different place between then and now. In many ways it is much sweeter–our little house on the hill has a gorgeous view and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed studying the mountains in all their moods. There are more artists and writers here than there were before. We’re not involved in one of the small town businesses as employees. If we want to hole up and be antisocial for a few days, we can. Or if we want to get out and do things (mostly me), there are things to do. I’m starting to take up quilting, and have discovered that I can be somewhat decent at it. I’ve joined the Soroptimists, and am getting caught up in their activities locally to improve things for women and girls. I’m getting to be known as one of the local writers, and have had a couple of occasions where someone has asked me how my writing is going when out and about in the local shops. The past two Christmases I’ve participated in local craft shows, and hope to do more of it.

My asthma is happier here. I’ve adapted and enjoy the slower pace of life, which includes the possibility of running into people we know at the grocery store and stopping for a chat.

Not all is sunny and perfect, though. The son has had health problems. We fret about making it down to Clatskanie to cultivate the garden with our friend, especially in a damp and cold spring like we are having here. Sometimes the six hours between here and Portland seem like forever.

But then the sun comes out between the clouds, and we get a different glow.

We go down to Portland and get our taste of urban life, and then retreat. Right now we seem to have a decent balance, and I hope that continues. There are times when I think I should be more driven, more ambitious, and fill my days with more activity…and then I look at what I’ve actually been doing, and decide that perhaps I’m all right after all.

Summer will soon be here, with the frenetic activity that comes with it being the main money-making/food cultivation/food harvest/woodcutting season.

I think it’ll be all right.

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April 12, 2017 · 9:00 pm

Rant: Why aren’t there more good horse novels for adults?

This particular rant got set off by my reading of Lord of Misrule, by Jaimy Gordon. It’s won some literary prizes, is highly acclaimed and…it pissed me off so much when I read it that I’ve spent some time this afternoon composing this particular little rant in my head.

The problem with Lord of Misrule for anyone who has grown up reading any standard juvenile and later on adult horse fiction is that it hits damn near every. single. solitary. cliche in the hardbitten adult horse novel subcategory. Broken-down racehorses at a bush league track, so of course you have corrupt trainers and grooms, fun and games with claiming races, doping, Magical Negro grooms, at least one gruesome horse death, a girl determined to save a broken-down horse, and, and….yeah. Except, of course, it’s all done in a particularly artsy literary style where there are no marks to delineate dialogue (no dashes, no colons, no quotation marks), no character whether human or horse is redeemable, and it attempts to replicate the writer’s perception of racetracker dialogue. And, dear God, the particularly gloomy portrayal it has of horses and humans involved with horses would send a sane person screaming away from any sort of involvement with the equestrian world. There’s damn little joy in the relationship between human and horse, much less love between human and horse or the ongoing nonverbal communication that exists in a good horse/human relationship.

Not that this book is a singular offender. With few exceptions, primarily in genre, when horses show up in adult novels, they’re either poorly written, part of a Spiritual Experience, are unrealistic adult versions of juvenile horse novels or are gritty hardbitten looks at the dark side of commercial equestrian industry. The horses don’t get to show up as horses, complete with equine humor and varying temperaments. Good grief, dogs and cats get better representation than horses in adult fiction. You’ve got to pick up Rita Mae Brown, Natalie Keller Reinert, or perhaps even Jane Smiley to get a more balanced look at the horse world in non-genre fiction, and Brown is more crime fiction, ergo, genre, than mainstream when it comes to her horse lit. And don’t get me started on The Horse Whisperer. That was another book I wanted to throw across the room (but was saved by it being a library book). Yes, you can find good horse fiction in genre–fantasy and romance in particular (though I’m not much of a romance reader).

So why aren’t there more good horse novels for adults? I’ve tried. I picked up one Western-themed romantic suspense novel that was part of a series and ended up wanting to chuck the book across the room because of the inaccuracies in it. Currently my top favorite adult horse book is actually two books, Rider at the Gate and Cloud’s Rider, a short science fiction series by C. J. Cherryh. The nighthorses in these books are carnivorous (and have a love for bacon that any horseperson who’s seen an equine reaction to peppermints will recognize). They’re a telepathic protection for humans in a world where telepathic wildlife would drive humans insane–and the nighthorses associated with humans due to their own curiosity about human minds. The nighthorses are fascinated by human minds–and Cherryh’s nighthorses are a heckva lot closer to horses I’ve known than many non-genre horses I’ve read. Judith Tarr also writes some dang good horses, especially in A Wind in Cairo.

Is it because there are only so many plots that can be told about horses and humans? Somehow, I don’t think so.

What I find myself missing are the stories where the horses are there as companions for their people. Not Companions as in supernatural beings in horse form, but horses as the opinionated, quirky, humorous beings they are. Horses that are well-treated, that have jobs they enjoy doing (yes, there are horses who like to work and be ridden), and empower their humans to succeed in everyday, regular ways. Stories that show the ordinary part of horse world where you spend more of your time mucking, grooming, and schooling than in cutthroat competition. Where the drama of human life that drives fiction is not dependent upon something awful happening to the horse.

I mean…today on Facebook I watched a video clip of a horse kicking butt on an alligator in Florida. Horse saw gator lurking near its herd in a park, and…aggressive horse stomping ensued, with gator slinking away. How likely are you to see this scene happen in a story about horses? Or a story with horses in it?

So, you may ask, why aren’t you writing these stories, Joyce?

Answer: I am, just mostly in genre. And I break my own rules because I’ve done horrible things to my horses in fiction–but the horses are performing heroically before the Awful Thing happens, rather than being forced to perform and getting hurt because of human frailties. They are in partnership with their humans. They’re joined with their humans in battle. Missy in Alien Savvy is not taking any guff off of those aliens, by golly, because she can herd them like she can cows. Mira in Pledges of Honor is fighting right alongside her bonded human Katerin. Narasin in Beyond Honor provides emotional and magical support for her human. Sox in my as yet unpublished ghost story “Lost Loves” confirms for Joni B that what she is seeing is real. Drinker of Wind and Sleipnir in “Tricksters, Horses, and Beer” have an agenda of their own, and who’s to say is manipulating whom…the horses or their Trickster owners?

I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m sick to death of depressing and poorly researched adult horse books, and there ain’t enough of the other stuff around unless I dip into my stash of horse juveniles. Or racing stories from the 1930s. Somehow along the way, the horse stopped becoming what it is–a quirky, opinionated being with an interesting sense of humor–and became an item to exploit in literature. Instead of being a generous companion, it became a shadowy icon representing the baser nature of humanity.

Somehow I think our literature is poorer for this lack.

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