Be careful what you wish for...

So, after the last post I made about babies and writing, apparently the respective gods of both took note. At 5:50 Am April 16 code name Roja arrived at the farm, albeit with the sort of drama that only babies, young children and old people can manage. Look up the term 'red sack' or 'red bag' birth along with the word horse, and you'll get all the info you need and more. But at the moment, things are looking good enough that I feel confident to list a time line for little Roja: 5:50 arrived with much fanfare (and a TINY bit of help) 8:00 Mom had no milk yet and I was hungry and minus colostrum, got stomach tubed 10:30 Got slathered in milk replacer that was supposed to be ingested, officially earned the certificate for achieving status of "Pain in the Ass" 12:00 Mom's still slacking, got the damn stomach tube again 2:00 managed to actually consume some of the milk replacer, even kind of liked it 3:45 Drank milk replacer, and dang, it was pretty good, pooped on A. Grey's sister, code name Fenris "Revenge is mine!" status upgraded to "Real pain in the ass" 4:30, officially reached, bucking, farting, kicking, galloping circles situation pretty damn normal stage. Hoping to avoid getting poked with plasma when the vet gets here....

Having Babies vs Writing

I've spent the last week staring at a very swollen, very contrary, very uncomfortable horse waiting on her to decide that it's time for her to disgorge the tiny-tot she's been busy growing the last eleven months. I haven't gotten much written, I've slept about eight good hours in the last hundred and eight, and neither I nor the horse have anything to show for it. But I have come to a few conclusions, the primary of these being that when someone says 'writing a book is like having a baby' they are absolutely correct. I have never had a baby myself, but I've raised my share of babies of the equine kind and really, they aren't all that different from the two legged variety, and all babies are just like books.

You spend months, maybe years, growing your ideas to adulthood, trying to guide them to become the best that they can be, the most well rounded and self-sustaining. And then, just when you deem them perfect, you have to release them to other people, like sending a child to college, letting them out into a world where they'll be subjected to things you never wanted them to face, opinions you never wanted them to hear. And just like a child, you can't protect your book from everything bad, not if you want it to mature so that it can make its own way in the world. And no matter how you've raised your book, you can't stop other people from seeing things in it that you never saw, or never thought you'd see. All you can do is be true to your book, give it all that you can, bless it with a strong voice and strong characters, a gripping story and then stand back and allow it to go its way. Do your best and leave the rest, as the saying goes.

So now I'm going to head back out and stare at the reluctant baby-mama some more as if I could send out a tractor beam from my eyeballs and draw the foal into the world by sheer will power. Once the little thing does make it's appearance, of course, there will be only so much I can teach it before it's grown and I have to let it go its own way and be a horse. Just like I'll have to eventually hand over the stories and books I've spent so long creating to other people, people who hopefully will introduce them to the rest of the world...

The Adoration of Jenna Fox

I got 'The Adoration of Jenna Fox' last night. I read it in three hours, counting bathroom breaks and two cat fights. (My Ari and my dad's immense Griffon are mortal enemies, except when they aren't) I absolutely loved the book. It was well written, well thought out, gripping and yet easy to read and understand. In a way, A of J F reminded me of a book I read way back in my school days called 'Eva' the difference being that in 'Eva' the girl's brain was transplanted into a chimp. I'm forced to say that A of J F was, in my opinion, a much better book.
'Eva' left a great deal to be inferred and came across as far fetched, even though it was supposed to frighten you with the possibilities. A of J F managed the task flawlessly. I'm a funeral director's daughter. Death does not scare me. Living trapped scares me. Loosing my humanity, to a computer, scares me. Living forever, scares me. I'm already wary of all our 'breakthroughs' and medical feats. People scoff if you buy into alien abductions or unicorns and dragons, but go online and pull up a picture of the mouse with a human ear growing on its back and tell me I'm crazy to believe in other worlds. I dare you to look at that picture and then turn around and try to convince me of what isn't going to happen and isn't possible. Anything is possible, even if it shouldn't be. And humans will never stop exploring possibilities. So in short, I LOVED 'The Adoration of Jenna Fox'. I loved how it made me consider, not 'if' but 'How would I feel if it were me?' And 'How will I feel WHEN it happens to someone?'