I grew up a horse crazy girl in Florida. My mother wanted a girly girl. She tried to distract me with years of dance lessons which is sad because 1.) I'm a natural klutz and 2.) I daydreamed about horses even while wearing a tutu. I did have one talent--art. My fifth grade teacher wrote in my report card: "Susan draws well but she only draws horses." Sorry Mom. In ninth grade, I wrote to racehorse farms in Ocala hoping to convince them to hire me as an exercise girl. I had no qualifications. The only horses I'd ridden were docile rental beasts. I did get one nice response telling me to write back when I turned sixteen. By then, my dream had come true--a horse of my very own. I named her Cindy and I spent every weekend riding her through orange groves and the backroads of central Florida. After three awesome months, I lost Cindy to Swamp Fever.

The summer before I enrolled in Junior College I bought a honey gold buckskin called Omaha. Buying a horse before college is probably not the best idea. Imagine trying to concentrate on your first college courses while your mind is cantering across a grassy field. I managed to finish two years of art studies. Then I took a summer job on a horse farm. That led to twenty years of teaching horse crazy girls--and some boys and adults, to ride hunter jumpers. I never stopped drawing. In the early 1990's, I did a sketch of a well-known horse trainer. She showed it to others and by 1995 I had enough portrait requests to convince me to set aside the horses and return to my art. Five years later, I returned to school to finish my degree. The moral of this story is don't deny your passions. You'll get where you're going. If it takes decades--well, it's all part of the journey.

Oh...you're probably wondering how a horse crazy artist became a writer. In July of 2007, my household was disrupted by a new rescued dog...Hobbit, the Jack Russell terrorist. We had adopted Ella, the catahoula leopard hound mix, three years earlier. She's a sweet-natured girl, eager to please. Hobbit is a typical terrier...smart, energetic, and always looking for the next adventure. Add to that his anxiety disorder and you have a monster headache. I need a quiet space with no distractions to do my art. By January of 2008, my typical day went like this:

1) Feed the dogs. (Make sure Hobbit gets his Prozac.)

2) Feed me

3) Twenty minute brisk walk with dogs.

4) Let dogs out.

5) Set up easel.

6) Let dogs in because Ella ( who has found her hound voice) won't stop barking at squirrels.

7) Sit at easel.

8) Rescue pen Hobbit has stolen from desk. Clean up ink on floor.

9) Take a deep breath. Put on favorite CD.

10) Chase Hobbit off dining room table, bedside tables, coffee table...

You get the picture.

In frustration one day, I picked up a notebook and went outside with the dogs. I started writing a story about some whimsical figures I'd drawn in my sketchbook. The words poured out on the paper. When the dogs interrupted, I put down my pen but that old daydreaming practice came in handy. The story kept playing in my head while I took care of the dogs, did the dishes, took a shower...it even woke me in the middle of the night. Now that story is a young adult novel. I look back and realize I've been trying to tell stories with my art all along. I do miss the horses. They're occupying my head again and nuzzling their way into my books.

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