Saddles and Parachutes

We were driving past a new little commercial sector near our house and I saw that one of the businesses coming soon was a Saddlery.
I mentioned it to Bill and he immediately began talking about a saddle he’d once owned. It was beautiful black leather and was made slightly smaller than a typical western saddle as if was designed especially for Arabians. At that time he had a gorgeous white Arabian named Tex. Tex was retired carriage horse that Bill trained for a saddle. He’s long since gone to horse heaven or wherever the souls of such creatures go.
The saddle is gone as well. Thieves broke into the tack room and stole it. Bill sounded mad about it as he remembered.
I tried to be philosophical. We live in town now. He no longer has horses, so he would have gotten rid of the saddle anyway.
Bill agreed. He had other saddles, all of which he sold or gave away years ago. He doesn’t even remember what happened to them. So what was so special about the Arabian saddle?
It was beautiful, of course. But truly what makes it memorable was having it stolen.
There is something about us, something in human nature, that absolutely decries injustice. When we see something wrong, we rarely can keep our mouth shut about it. That’s a very good thing. This compulsion to stand up for what is right and what is fair has been irrevocably woven into the fabric of our civilization.
And if it doesn’t resolve, which happens so often, we can never actually let go.
At this point I can almost hear my dad’s deep bass voice admonishing me with a useful piece of working class wisdom, "You might as well just get over that."
He was right, of course. But it’s never that easy. Not even for him. Remember that story I told you about the bad sorghum. (Check out MORSI MOVIE REVIEW from July 15th). However, I think making the effort to just chalk it up to experience and move on is worth it.
So this week, when we look at all the trouble on Wall Street and we get so riled up about what these knot-heads have done with their unsatiable greed and golden parachutes, I think we may all just have to take a deep breath. We have to get over being mad about it and try to figure out what the next step should be.
It’s going to take a smarter person than me to answer that question. But at least I won’t be wasting my passion and brain power on low-life thieves. I’m going to let justice be meted out by heaven, where they have much more experience with that sort of thing.

Didn't she say she was blogging and she couldn't shut up?

Wait a minute, you’re saying to yourself. Didn’t she say she was blogging and she couldn’t shut up?
Yes, it has been almost a month since I’ve posted anything. Did ya miss me? Okay, don’t answer that. I’m sure most of you didn’t notice.
The truth is, I haven’t been avoiding the computer, I’ve been finishing up my next novel. I guess we’d call that my "day job". Anyway, I sent it off to my editor at 11 p.m. last night and now I am in that perfect state of bliss between when I write THE END and the initial reaction of my first audience, my editor.
Without sort of sucking up, I’d like to say that my editor is a pretty cool gal. She’s smart and sassy and old enough, as we say in the country, "to know come here from sic ‘em". But being an editor is not an easy job. Because...they have to deal with authors.
Being an author is a really cool job. That’s what I say to high school kids on career day. And I believe that. Unfortunately it puts me in the mind of that Bible verse that says, "I believe Lord, help my unbelief!" It is a cool job, but most of the time it feels very ordinary. I sit alone in my office for hours on end. I work on something that I really can’t discuss with anyone else. Some authors have writer friends or brain storm with readers or editors. I can’t do that. If I talk about a work in progress and an offhand comment is made, it can really throw me off. My confidence in my own talent is not very strong. I continue to think, even after twenty years of proving otherwise, that my career is a total fluke and that somebody is finally going to read my next book and say so. Self doubt is a problem for a lot of writers. Frequently we are introverted folks and the outside world can be harsh. Writing, especially fiction which portrays so much of our inner being, exposes us in very scary ways.
But scary can be good, right?
Truthfully, I’ve never been a big fan of the scary. I don’t like heights, fast driving, haunted houses or horror novels.
I’m also not eager to get out of my comfort zone.
Now, avoiding ledges and parachutes, race cars and things that go bump in the night does not, I don’t believe, impact my life negatively in any way. No, I can never reference any well-known lines from Silence of the Lambs, but I rarely need to.
However, keeping myself in the cocoon of my knotty pine office walls, snug in my little bungalow, that is not a good thing.
In order to write about the world, I need to be out in it. I’m gearing up for some exciting, out of my comfort zone adventures. I’ll keep you posted.
BTW, the just finished book is called RED’S HOT HONKY-TONK BAR and it’s currently scheduled for release in July 2009.