On First Drafts of Anything

Today on social media I'm seeing references to "shitty first drafts" and "bad" first drafts, and reading comments about how hard and awful it is to drag oneself to the computer to write these terrible documents. 

I want to offer an alternate view.

Maybe a first draft - of a book, a story, a poem, or a song or a painting or a sketch, or a new dish one is cooking, or the first ride after a month out of the saddle, or the first time one is repairing the grout around the kitchen sink - maybe these first efforts of anything could be seen for what they actually are. Beginnings. Adventures. Opportunities.

The first draft of a book is the one where the writer has the most freedom. The time when the writing can soar and dive and play and experiment. When no one judges it or expects it to be cohesive and polished. It's a time when the writer is on the prow of the boat crashing through waves, feeling the wind on her face, not worrying about the finer points of the thing but simply enjoying that wild ride.

Yesterday I got on Keil Bay for the first time in two weeks. There was target shooting going on nearby and many frightened deer in the woods. The Big Bay was on high alert. The ride consisted of me reassuring him, giving him things to do that helped release the adrenalin (serpentines, figure 8s, shoulder-in, lots of walk-trot transitions), and allowing him to circle back to the barn-side of the arena where the rest of the herd was gathered. Was it the best ride we've ever had? No. Was it a bad ride because we didn't have total harmony? No. What it was: the ride that got us back in the groove after some bad weather and a busy schedule. A ride that proved we can work through some anxiety and end up stretching and relaxing. 

We must give ourselves permission to be imperfect.

That doesn't mean we have to name the first doing of a thing "shitty" or bad. 

Why not give it a more positive spin?

First efforts are proof that we're moving and shifting and trying and working. A first draft is a beautiful thing because it represents movement and intention and belief that what we're doing is worthwhile to do.

What we call a thing has a lot of power. It colors our perspective.

Try reframing that "shitty" or "bad" name to something more powerful. The first draft of a new book could be something magical happening, a place where ideas catch fire and illuminate our creative selves. Try viewing that first ride after time off as time with your horse where you learn something new, where you offer softness and maybe get it back again, something to celebrate, a victory. 

Do it and come back and tell me if anything changes. 

holidays and mindfulness

Come visit me at Talk2theAnimals and share your own mindfulness practices:

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I'll write more later this week. Today I have to get into zen mode with all the rain that's falling. :)

Giving Thanks 2014

Come tell me something you're thankful for:

http://talk2theanimals.net/giving-thanks/

a canter-bay tale

can·ter

ˈkan(t)ər/

noun

noun: canter

1. 1.

   a three-beat gait of a horse or other quadruped between a trot and a gallop.

   "he kicked his horse into a canter"

   • a ride on a horse at the gait of a canter.

     plural noun: canters

     "we came back from one of our canters"

verb

verb: canter; 3rd person present: canters; past tense: cantered; past participle: cantered; gerund or present participle: cantering

1. 1.

   (of a horse) move at a canter in a particular direction.

   "they cantered down into the village"

   • make (a horse) move at a canter.

     "Katharine cantered Benji in a smaller and smaller circle"

Origin

early 18th century (as a verb): short for Canterbury pace or Canterbury gallop, from the supposed easy pace of medieval pilgrims to Canterbury.

What is it about cantering that makes it so appealing to those of us who ride? When I was a little girl taking riding lessons that was all I wanted to do. The days we rode around the lake near the stable and were allowed to canter for long periods of time are some of the best memories I have.

Both my children wanted to canter too. We have photographs of each of them cantering with huge smiles on their faces.

Each week when my daughter rides I get to watch the beginner riders, most of them little girls on big horses, all of them asking "when can I canter?" With their short legs it's sometimes difficult to get the horses to transition from trot to canter but the desire to do so is strong and the girls will try over and over again until they get a few strides, and if they're lucky, a whole circuit of the arena in the magical gait.

For me what's wonderful about cantering is the forward motion, the connection between the horse and rider, and the sense of total freedom that I feel as a result. It's a time when my usually churning mind empties and all there is is joy.

It has been awhile since Keil Bay and I cantered. We took the summer off and have gradually worked our way back into a regular riding routine this fall. I'm careful with him when we've been out of work, and careful with myself. We start out walking, add in trot, add in the suppling dressage exercises including shoulder-in, and when it feels like we're both back in shape, I will ask for the canter.

The past few rides I have been feeling like I have my "legs" back in the saddle.

Yesterday was a chilly day here and the neighbors were out in full force in the woods behind their house, wearing white hats which were popping up at unexpected times. There were a few shrieks and the snapping of branches as they cut brush. Keil Bay was alert but very very good, and we had a lot of really springy trotting and the kind of ride where the 16.2 hand horse felt like he was 18 hands. His lifting his back lifted me as well, and for most of the very forward ride my boots were loose in the stirrups. We reached that point when my seat and legs were plugged in and the stirrups were simply hanging there. When Keil and I reach that point it's a definite sign that we're ready to move on.

Today it was quiet. Not quite as cold but very gray out. Keil was still very alert. The fact that there were no white hats popping around seemed almost scarier than when there were. What if they suddenly appeared? But again, he was very connected and very forward and it occurred to me that riding a forward canter is infinitely easier than riding a clunky one, so in a moment of girlish glee I sat the trot, slipped my outside leg back a couple of inches and off we went. We cantered left and then we cantered right and I had the same wild smile on my face that I did when I was 9. The same joy, the same giddy happiness. There was nothing in my head but undiluted joy.

Riding Keil Bay's huge and elegant canter is like riding around the lake to the power of infinity. As much as I loved it as a girl, I think I love it even more at age 54. WHEEEEEEEE!

And now, just as when I was young, I can't wait for the next ride.

*November* Hill

We're a few days out from the beginning of my favorite month and also the month that inspired the name of our little farm, November Hill.

A decade ago we moved Keil Bay and the Little Man and the Corgis to our new home. It was a dream come true for me. As October passed and we began to learn the whisperings of this piece of land, I waited for the right name to come to me. And  then November arrived, and our farm burst into color around us. 

The name November Hill popped into my head and stuck there. And so our farm was christened.

Months later I was looking through Keil Bay's papers and discovered that he grew up on a farm in Virginia. That farm's name was November Hill.

We love it as much today as we did the first year. After a hot, buggy summer and a busy and stressful August and September, I'm looking forward to being here, fully present, enjoying and relishing every single day of November Hill's namesake month.

In celebration, I'm offering a couple of freebies from my published books.

From October 30th through November 3rd you will find these two titles free on Amazon:

Don't Miss The Magic -  a book of essays on the writing (and creative) process

Search For Fox Hunting Red (Little Shoppe of Colors, 1) - a delightful picture book about two little donkeys who own and operate a shop that sells paints 

You can go here for easy "purchase" and download of the ebooks. You are welcome to gift to as many friends as you like during this free period!

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=billie+hinton