Artistic temperament 101: Everything I need to know about writers I learned from a miniature horse

It’s true. I had this epiphany while bringing up yet another example from driving Bullet in a conversation with my husband, Sean Murray. Sean is working on his second novel right now, which means that there are only two kinds of days I have– good days, when his writing is working, and bad days, when it is, well, not–and to help get through the latter, I find myself reaching for equine parallels.

Thus, here are some Bullet-points:

• When your work is easy, you are not trying hard enough. Anyone who has seen a mini just trotting along–or a writer just scribbling casually in a coffee-house–know: they are not doing their best work. Blue ribbons require effort, discipline, and hard work focusing on the task at hand.
• New scenery keeps you engaged. If you just keep driving in circles in the arena, the horse gets bored and stops paying attention. One needs to get out — few things (see below) get Bullet’s attention as quickly as the need to greet horses he hasn’t met before, watch where he plants his feet and an occasional baby-stroller, with a baby in it. A stroll down a different street may not produce the same effect in a writer, but then, writers are generally harder keepers than minis.
• Food is very important. Sometimes, food is the only thing that can get a mini’s attention. With writers, one might have to resort to alcohol as a lure.
• When the going gets tough, get into draft. When Bullet has to take a hill, or pull through some mud, or faces some other difficulty, he doesn’t stop. He goes into draft mode — head down, chest into the collar, legs pumping like pistons. He stops when he’s through. Rough places is where he shows his strength and ability. That’s where he beats other ponies.
• Have instincts you can trust. No matter how well Bullet follows my direction, he reserves the right to make his own decisions. He will swerve and jump to avoid a hole in the ground or a suspicious-looking log — regardless of my intention to go straight. He knows the driver can’t see the hole. Writers, ultimately, must do what they do alone, and it is a lucky writer who has complete trust in his/her instincts. Without absolute confidence in one’s ability to tell good writing from bad it is unwise to enter unfamiliar and difficult terrain.
• Roll.

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