Earbrassian Reflections

Brought on by matociquala 's post today on post-novel ennui.  I've been in it since the end of November--and we are now at the Screaming Hysteria stage.   Life is too full, calls on my time are too many, I have a deadline and there's no longer any choice in the matter.  I write, or I (figuratively;  my bank balance literally) die. 

This is a normal abnormality.  Novels happen, for me, about the way foals happen: a quite wild and very happy generation of ideas in season, followed by a long, long, slow,  mostly internal gestation, culminating in a lot of pacing in circles, groaning, and leaving little poop piles of frustration, followed by a sudden drop and a relatively brief but quite concentrated burst of parturition.  Or to put it in laypeople's terms, a year and more (sometimes a lot more) of backburnering after the initial idea/proposal/outline/synopsis/whatever,  about three months of pacing in circles,  snarling, and kicking the walls, then finally,  three or four months of writing blitz.  Complicated by the fact that ideally I would write a book a year, but reality requires that  I write at least two.  So gestation and foaling are often happening simultaneously.  And the three-month pacing-and-circling stage is necessarily and painfully combined with the three-month postpartum stage. 

Not assisted by the fact that these stages usually coincide with something equestrian--at this point, breeding season is getting underway, people are writing and asking for video and our unusually and wonderfully wet winter is making it impossible to get  Pooka out there to strut his stuff, and meanwhile he's having himself a wonderful time with his new mare. 

Well,  technically not his, she's booked to another stallion for this season, but they sure are enjoying themselves across the fenceline.  He's getting plenty of mares--just not this one.

Rain and riding do not mix, and this continues to be an issue.  I ride when I can, which is about half as often as I want to.  Camilla is Not  Amused--she came cantering up Monday when I went to get keed for his Teacher Torture, but I had to tell her it was too wet and slippery for her still very unbalanced self to be or feel safe under saddle.  Even Pooka sat that one out.  Capria and  I consolidated basics instead--contact, thigh aids, maintaining straightness and balance throughout the horse  ("Make sure she stays upright through changes of bend").

To add to the preoccupations, Spot is now  Perfect--a condition of my adopting her (as usual with  adopting retired showgirls) is that she be spayed.  She had her surgery on Friday and came home Saturday.  It was raining when I went out,  rained all day and then  really rained all night.  By morning the main route to town  was underwater--about when I was heading down that way, a woman's  car was swept away and she clung to a tree until she could be rescued--but I saw the  Road  Closed sign just in time (they would put it on the wrong side of a blind curve) and managed not to skid into the rapids.  For those who saw and worried about the Flood Reports--that was a Flood.  Turned around and did the 20-mile detour instead,  which ran through some puddles  but no raging rivers.  Spot was woozy and out of it but glad to leave the vet clinic.  She's been recovering rapidly, still is on restriction  (no running,  jumping, climbing,  or getting overexcited, no stairs, and no getting wet) but has graduated to supervised yard time and is OK with being lifted up steps or onto the sofa.  We had our Westminster-watching session, cheered on  the Cardigan, and generally enjoyed the show.

Meanwhile,  we had a nice Adventure on Sunday: an  Arizona History class from Ottawa University (Phoenix, not Canada) came by to visit the Lipizzans.  They had originally been booked at the ranch in Elgin, but a family emergency took the owner out of town, so she handed them off to me.  I did a spiel on history, characteristics, and types of  Lipizzans, then was asked a few questions about being a Dotty Lady Author on a mesa in  Arizona.  There were 20-odd people in the class, which  keed and the Girlz thought was great, but Pook was not sure about at all.  He needs more exposure to crowds and applause, clearly.  He's not wild or terrified--just unsure.  Pandora  was Show&Tell Exhibit B (with Pook as Exhibit A)--nice opportunity to show the modern or carriage type versus Pooka's old-fashioned Airs type, with her 16 hands (yes, she is that tall) to his 14.2.  She ate up the attention--she's a very sweet mare, and very calm.  

Apparently the session was a success;  some students stayed on for a while, and one could not tear herself away from Pooka.  Pluto Love Vibes strike again.

This week has been strictly, well, meh.  Grey and blah, little or no sun (unheard of for us), and  I've been getting a new novel started which is always a strain.    I haven't had any energy, or anything much to say,  really.  Today I kicked myself out and made myself go and visit casacorona , along  with Spot, who insisted strongly that she not be  left behind.  That helped a great deal with the mood and the energy, though the planned hippotherapy didn't happen--it was raining when  I got home, and set in fairly hard fairly soon.  Sigh.  But We Need The Rain. 

It is wonderful rain for the desert: soft, steady, ongoing for six weeks now.  The land loves it.  There should be a lovely bloom of wildflowers in another few weeks.   Coinciding,  I would hope, with a lovely bloom of prose in the novel, which is currently still in the groan-and-poop stage.