So I found this lovely little post by A. Victoria Mixon through the invaluable Adventures in Children's Publishing and I couldn't resist sharing. Part of my excitement is because I'm nearing the end of finishing the first draft of Amarok and the Gone Missing Girl (AGMG) but part of it is because I honestly fit into several of the 'personalities who WILL succeed in writing. And part of it is because it's been a really long time since I wrote a funny post and this gives me an excuse to because one of the personalities listed is:
THE IMAGINATIVE: those who are always looking for ways to liven up the party.
You know why so many writers have such great biographies? Because the best ones never know when to leave well enough alone. They pull up their socks and yank on their shit-kickers and go out there to face life with all their innocence and guilt and huevos shining in all directions. They pay their dues and take their chances. They shoot the rapids. They wrestle the angel. They throw themselves on the mercy of the lion.
And when they sit down to write, they approach it the same way, with recklessness and bravado and sheer, uncontrolled, brain-bursting inanity. That’s how they get themselves into the tops of trees and under the bowels of the earth, on the extreme end of adventures they can’t possibly get out of in one piece, hurtling lock, stock, and barrel into outer space. And that’s how they have the stamina and endurance to drag a whole galaxy of readers along with them.
Yep. That would be me. Not to toot my own horn. I'm just saying that I can't manage a trip to the bathroom without some sort of adventure. Honest truth. For example, I recently ended up in a sink hole on a trip to the bathroom. I kid you not. Okay, so the bathroom wasn't a conventional one anyway. Alright, alright, it wasn't an actual bathroom at all. Let me explain...
My BFF otherwise known as Pippilotta or Pippi, to save typing space, and I delight in getting ourselves into and out of all manner of adventures. Our most recent excursion was to the Eastern Shore, where we hauled her two foals who were born earlier this year to what's know as an 'Inspection' for the Oldenburg breed. This is too complicated to explain fully, but basically, Pippi bred her mares to registered stallions and the offspring gets judged by German (where the breed originated) judges and are given ratings and approved to be registered within the breed. So, Tuesday evening we loaded up two mommas and two very enthusiastic babies and started off for the Eastern Shore of MD, about four hours away. Now mind you both Pippi and I had already worked full days, me at the farm and her at a very stressful white collar job. We had an uneventful trip, and pulled into the farm where the inspection was being held around 11pm. Or I could say we skied in... thank you Google Maps for giving us a road, that hadn't been a 'road' in years and had been flooded out by the evening's thunderstorms. I can quote myself as actually saying 'Don't slow down Pippi or we'll end up swimming'. But we made it, although I think the horses were questioning our sanity by then.
The excitement carried on after our arrival. Twenty minutes before our timely entrance, someone else had arrived with an extra unregistered horse... taking one of our reserved stalls. So there we were, no one in charge (one of the ladies in charge was just diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, tragically, so management was spotty, understandably) and no stall for one momma and one baby... Eventually we managed to secure a single stall in the stallion barn. You know those movies where they always show the new guy being paraded down the halls in prison and men are cat-calling and such? Now picture the men as 1300 lb stallions, screaming and diving at their stall doors... Luckily Cat (the momma horse who ended up in that barn) is the equivalent of Milla Jovovich in horse form and didn't bat an eye at the boys. But I digress.
After all that driving (which required just a smidgen of coffee) and the stall drama, both Pippi and I needed a little bathroom break... but we hadn't yet been able to find a real bathroom. So in typical 'us' fashion, we just headed around the side of the barn into the utter blackness of the lightless Eastern Shore night. It was 12am by that time, and it's just water anyway right? It was still raining so no one would ever even know. And that's when yours truly found the sink hole.Luckily, I had my trusty plaid rubber boots on because of the rain... unluckily, the sink hole went well passed my thigh... Honestly I can't tell you it even had a bottom because my butt hit the ground and saved me from being entirely swallowed. My rubber boot filled right up and though fast reaction thrashing got me out of the hole quickly, I had to dump about a gallon of water out of the boot. Meanwhile, Pippi is laughing hysterically, and I still have to pee...
We ended up getting into bed (which was an air mattress in the horse trailer) at roughly 3am... and were up at 6:45 to start getting the horses ready. The babies hadn't quite recovered from the trip there as evidenced by this picture of me braiding one of them... The day ended up going amazingly. We had a great time, Pippi's colt was given a 'Foal of Distinction' award and we met oodles of nice people and one very cute pig.The trip home was quiet and we got back with no injuries. Although it took us a few days to recover sleep wise, we were both ready to hit the town for dinner on Friday.
My point here is that you can find adventure anywhere... even on your way to the bathroom... and if you can find it there, you can write about it in your stories... just be open to it when it arrives and never be afraid to admit to it when it finds you unexpectedly...