Congratulations to Linda Phillips for winning a copy of Grace Ocasio's book, The Speed of Our Lives.
In August I reviewed Maggie Dana's book, Turning On a Dime. When I asked her if she would share about her love for all things equine, she sent me this post which first appeared on Tudor Robins' blog. I know you will enjoy this glimpse into how Maggie used her life experiences to inform her writing.
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As I writer, I am often asked, “What got you started and how
do you come up with ideas for stories?”
The first question has many answers; so does the second, and
writers have covered most of them, such as: I’ve
always wanted to write . . . my high-school/college English teacher told me I
was a natural . . . friends can’t wait to read my next story . . . I have so
many ideas, I can’t keep up with them.
And they apply to me, too. But my favorite questions,
though, are these:“How old were you when
you learned to ride?” and “Where did
you do that?”
Being a rider and a writer, I couldn’t wait to answer.
* * *
Back in the dark ages, when helmets weren't required and we
all rode in whatever outfits we could cobble together, my first riding lesson
scared me so much that I didn’t try again for another three years. But all it
took was the right instructor at the right stable, and I was hooked on horses
for life.
My new riding teacher, Tom Taylor, was strict, but he
understood kids. He drilled us on the flat and over jumps, relentlessly,
without reins and stirrups — we knew better than to complain — and when we
flubbed up, Tom climbed onto our horses and showed us how it should be done. No
matter how cranky our horses had been, they were complete angels with Tom.
A humbling experience.
On top of all that, Tom's stable was slap bang in the middle
of Pinewood Studios, England’s version of Hollywood (now home of the James Bond
films, Superman, and several other blockbusters)...
In addition to horses and ponies, the stable boasted a
Jersey cow, two belligerent sheep, and a gigantic pig that had one litter after
another. Added to this mix were numerous chickens, ducks, and turkeys that
pecked at your feet if you weren’t super careful.
Us kids -- the stable rats -- took care of them all. To pay
for our riding lessons, we also mucked stalls, groomed horses, stacked hay
bales, helped beginners tack up and mount, and made sure the animals didn’t
escape.
So, of course, they did.
One afternoon, Mother Pig and her ten piglets got gloriously
loose among tea roses, herbaceous borders, and topiary trees at Pinewood's most
prestigious garden party.
Picture, if you will, starlets with flowery hats and
six-inch heels. Imagine film producers in tuxedos, sporting gold chains and
Rolex watches, glad-handing gossip columnists and wealthy investors. Think
about starched waiters circling with trays of chilled champagne. Then conjure up
Mama Pig and her exuberant offspring zooming among designer-clad legs, upending
buffet tables, and disappearing into the well-ordered shrubbery . . . all
pursued by us delighted stable rats.
We made it last as long as we could. The last piglet wasn’t captured
until well after supper.
But my best memory is about Maud, the Jersey cow, when I was
put in charge of leading her from the stable and onto the set of a war film
that involved rescuing a valuable cow from the German-occupied Channel Islands.
Only one problem.
The story (based on a best-selling book) called for a
Guernsey cow — brown with white patches — and Maud was a Jersey (think Exmoor
pony for color, as in beige). Now, this was a black-and-white film. The shade
of brown wasn’t crucial, but the white patches were. So the film crew got to
work with brushes and buckets of white paint while I held the cow … and it took
rather a long time.
All this was heady stuff, especially for me — an awkward
eleven-year-old — and I was beginning to relax when Maud ruined her moment in
the spotlight by relieving herself all over the sound stage’s concrete floor.
A cow plop would've been bad enough, but this was urine.
Oh, horrors.
It splashed, it ran everywhere. I thought I would die of
embarrassment. Everyone doubled up with laughter, even the tight-lipped
director. David Niven, the movie's star, collapsed into his canvas folding
chair and insisted the scene be written into the script.
It wasn’t, thank goodness.
A few years later, when I wound up working at the studios
for Richard Attenborough and Jack Hawkins, I worried that someone would bring
up the Maud incident, but nobody did.
Now that you’ve heard all this, you might wonder how I’ve
used it in TIMBER RIDGE RIDERS,
my horse books for kids. Mostly, I’ve pulled on my riding experience, the
lessons I learned from talented instructors, and the experiences I’ve had at
horse shows. But in the third Timber Ridge Riders book I was able to use my
knowledge of the movie industry. The book is called RIDING FOR THE STARS, and it’s one of my favorites of the series.
Leave a comment by 6 PM on November 20 for a chance to win an autographed copy of RIDING FOR THE
STARS. It would make a great holiday present for your daughter, granddaughter or niece!
Maggie Dana also writes women’s fiction. Her novel, Painting Naked, published by
Macmillan, is available on Amazon and other e-book sites.
