|me and Rusty|
I adored horses. I read anything and everything, both fiction and nonfiction. The Black Stallion books by Walter Farley, the Chincoteague books by Marguerite Henry. I knew the language, the lingo. I went to horse camp. I picked and groomed and had absolutely no fear. All my writing from those years is horse-centric. I thought I would always have horses in my life.
Yet that horse girl still lives inside me. I still love a good horse book. I still love to watch horses, and do ride occasionally -- though my girlish fervor is now tempered by fear. (I did break my arm after falling off a horse, after all.) Horses still pop up in my writing all the time.
Which is why this summer I am traveling with a couple of my writing buddies to see the annual Pony Swim from Assateague Island to Chincoteague Island. And just like that little girl I was, I can't wait!