A Day Late: My Idol

On March 24, 1603 the greatest queen England has ever known, Elizabeth I, died in Richmond castle. After nearly 45 years on the throne Elizabeth had made England a stable country by bringing Britain to world power after defeating the Spanish Armada. She is remembered by most people taught British history as the stoic virgin queen who staunchly refused to marry. I know her as a survivor. Despite that many parts of her soul were damaged and fragile because of the tragedies in her life she succeeded in being the Queen she knew she could be.

She was a princess, and then wasn't a princess. She had a mother who was killed on her father's execution orders. She was forgotten. She was molested by Thomas Seymour. She had a sister who abhorred her and locked her in the tower. She couldn't marry the man she loved because of his family history and his wife's mysterious death. People plotted against her, she was betrayed, she loved, she hated, and she faltered, and then carried through with her actions. She survived.

When she died the Councilors found a ring that was a locket containing portraits of herself and her mother, Anne Boleyn. She wore it all the time. Although she was only two when her mother was beheaded, here is the evidence Elizabeth knew she was loved by her mother. Perhaps it was from this love she found the strength to carry on at all times in her life. 

I admire Elizabeth for her independence and will to persevere. Nothing would stand in her way to take the country she loved and make it great, which indeed she did. When her goal had come to pass, she was able to draw her last breathe with at least that comfort.

GOLDEN SPEECH 1601

To be a King and wear a crown is a thing more pleasant to them that see it, than it is pleasant to them that bear it.

I were content to hear matters argued and debated pro and contra as all princes must that will understand what is right, yet I look ever as it were upon a plain tablet wherein is written neither partility or prejudice.

There is no jewel, be it of never so rich a price, which I set before this jewel; I mean your love.

Though God hath raised me high, yet this I account the glory of my reign, that I have reigned with your loves.

I have ever used to set the last Judgement Day before mine eyes, and so to rule as I shall be judged to answer before a higher judge.

You may have many a wiser prince sitting in this seat, but you never have had, or shall have, any who loves you better.

It is not my desire to live or to reign longer than my life and reign shall be for your good.

First Book

The snow is melting and according to the calendar spring is upon us. I don't know about other writers, but there is something about the spring that makes me write more. At night the ideas and lines creep into my mind and take over my thoughts. In reflection of past springs, I remembered the first book I had ever asked for as a child.

I must have only been four years old, and it was late spring or perhaps early summer, and my mother had brought me to The Toadstool Bookshop. I stopped off at a table because a book had caught my eye. There was a brown horse on the cover, and the book was titled The Wild Horses of Sable Island. My mother indulged my new fascination with horses and bought the book for me, which told the story of a wild stallion as he struggled to survive and form his own band on the Sable Island.

What everybody thought was a passing childish interest became a passion and that book fed my passion. Unable to access real horses, I became obsessed with horse stories and soon I had books such as The Wild Horses of Sweetbriar, Seastar: Orphan of Chincoteague and Brighty of the Grand Canyon. Christmas and birthdays I requested more books and toys with horses. I found reading and writing as my only link to horses since my parents did not have the money for riding lessons and my mother did not know horsey people.

Fast forward 18 or so years and I now have my own horse and I write about horses in novels, poems and short stories. Yes, I have greatly expanded my reading subjects, but nothing is still better than a well-written novel capturing the magic of the horse to me be it "realistic fiction" or a high fantasy novel. 

My life has been molded by the story of the horse. By the way, I still have the book The Wild Horses of Sable Island tucked safely away in a drawer. Perhaps, someday, I will read it to my own child. 

Writing About Horses: Human Truths

As writers we explore many different human truths through our writing and try to make sense of the things we can never have an absolute understanding of.  Have you ever found yourself coming back to the same human truths repeatedly through different poems and novels you are writing? I do, every single time.

The majestic bond between human and horse and the elements that can form or shatter it bleed from the pages of my writing. Even when I am writing a story or poem that is not horse related I find myself bringing it back to horses somehow in my mind. Another element I pursue either knowingly or subconsciously is the loss of innocence. When is that defining movement when the character loses another piece of their childhood shield? Tied together these two elements are the driving forces in my writing to create stories where growing up is reflected in the spirit of the horses and their owners.

There is something about the horse that cannot be expressed quite right in words, because there are no great words to convey the feelings they produce in humans. The story about the relationship between human and horse can be told countless times because of the abundant ways to convey the beauty of it all. So, that is why I will keep writing about the horse, no matter what other human truths I may explore through my writing.