Read my Interview for the FEI

Well, I always knew I’d be featured on the FEI’s website.

I just assumed it would be to celebrate my gold medal in the Olympics. I think “equestrian author” has a nice ring to it, though!

One of the best things that could have possibly happened to me in January, when I’d just found out my job was ending and I was trying to sort out What Happens Next, was receiving an email asking if I could schedule an interview for the FEI website.  Getting a feature story at the governing body of all equestrian sport? I felt much better after that, thanks! Timing can truly be everything.

The interview itself was a really lovely phone chat, in which we discussed everything from my childhood notebooks filled with pony stories to the current state of racing. I’m quite happy with the way it turned out (although I could live without some of those pink-cheeked selfies that were lifted from my Facebook page).

There are some tips for equestrian authors in the piece, but if you’re looking for more meaty stuff, do stick around here as I’m going to be continuing to write about the business of equestrian fiction at nataliekreinert.com!

So take a look at the interview, and please share it on your social media networks to help get the word out to readers who haven’t found out about equestrian fiction yet!

Link – FEI: Reading and Writing

Don’t Hate the Side-Hustle

The side-hustle is getting a lot of grief these days.

Having a side-gig is getting blamed for everything from millennial burn-out to the accusation that we’re turning our hobbies into jobs because of online/offline peer pressure (and thus hating our hobbies for being our jobs).

And while it’s true the entrepreneurial mood right now is focused on eradicating the toxic “always be hustling” culture we were taught to adore in the first fifteen years of this awful new century, the fact is, gigs and hustles and multiple hats are part of our culture and our economy now. Let’s be real: we live in a very disappointing simulation most of the time. Ah, 2019: wage stagnation, financial inequality, and an expectation that if we need anything in an emergency, or even the very basics of healthcare, a for-profit corporation will handle it… providing your job still fits into their latest business plan. We should be so lucky as to have a passion we can monetize, if that’s our society’s status quo.

So don’t hate the gig economy, hate the game — then learn to play it well. Start off by knowing thy enemy: it’s not the work.

Cross-stitch pattern "don't quit your day dream"

Photo: Brianna Santellan/Unsplash

The root cause of both burn-out and of hating your passion-turned-job is a lack of balance, not simply the monetization of hobbies.

Here’s the thing: there is nothing more important than work-life balance. While it’s really common to get burn-out just from working your nine-to-five, it’s also true that side-hustles, even the ones you are passionate about, can easily upend whatever tenuous grasp you might have had on work-life balance–especially when they’re added to a nine-to-five day.

When I was working a full-time job and writing fiction and freelancing and trying to ride just a couple of days per week, my life was a series of precariously balanced appointments, with meticulously monitored commute times to make it all possible.

I had to give up freelancing, but even that wasn’t enough. I barely had the energy to write anything after work, I didn’t have time to work out so I could feel healthy and good about myself, and getting to the barn was an exercise in resilience and not going crazy in traffic jams.

One person calling “Hey Natalie, quick question?” from the office next to mine at 4:03 PM was enough to mean that, fifteen minutes later, I was sadly slogging out to my car to drive home, knowing I wasn’t going to get to ride that night. It was absolutely important that I stick to my timetable, from leaving my apartment at 7:20 AM to beat morning traffic, to getting out at by 4:10 to almost beat evening traffic. A few minutes’ diversion either way meant an extra 20 minutes or more of time stuck in the car, while daylight waned. (Orlando notoriously has some of the worst traffic in the country, so that was part of it.)

I don’t know if keeping to that strict timetable was work-life balance or a slowly soul-numbing descent into hell, but either way, once my full-time job was over, I realized I didn’t have to clock-watch in order to get to the things I loved. So I turned back to my passions and sorted out what parts of them I could monetize (or in some cases, hyper-monetize) and found actual control over my day. It is my day, after all.

It’s all about balance. Photo: Thomas Peham/Unsplash

Of course, there’s work to be done at balancing all of my side-hustles, turning my work day into one big succession of hustles.

At first I asked: can I write for a certain website I enjoy writing for and produce a novel in 90 days and pick up a freelance social media campaign and plan travel and teach riding lessons and have a family life? It turns out that no, I can’t. I’ve been back in the hustle life for less than two months and I’ve already had to make some adjustments to my expectations of myself. I had to do some calculations, figure out the ROI on the work I was doing, and choose to prioritize the work paying the highest ROI and eliminate the work paying the lowest.

As a result, I’ve now completed the first draft of a novel in record time (six weeks, thank you for asking!), booked some very cool vacations for some very cool people, started teaching riding lessons so we can rock a new generation of horsey kids, started working out (I can run three miles now without stopping, thank you for asking!), and spend what is probably too much time with my family, no seriously, I think they are tired of me.

And what I love most? This can change. I can change this up tomorrow. I could add a freelance gig, pick up a part-time job so that I can remember how to interact with other humans, jump on a contract and work in an office for a few months making something cool happen, write another book, write a series of short stories, start a podcast (okay that probably won’t make any money) — but the point is, my life is mix-and-match right now, and I’m running around the candy shop, picking my favorite flavors.

Let your hobby earn you some breathing room. Let your passions run your life. Let your side-hustles give you new meaning.

Just keep it balanced. You can do this.

The Internet gives us the opportunity to market ourselves with almost no effort. Want to sell your dressage-themed cross-stitch pillows, but don’t have time to market them? Start an Instagram and a Facebook, and spend an hour on Saturday evening scheduling posts for the week while you’re ignoring Netflix. (You’re on your phone anyway.) Tag some horsey influencers and ask if you can mail them a couple. There, you did some marketing for the week. No craft shows, no tack shop cold calls, no fuss. Now you can get back to ignoring Netflix in peace.

The gig economy is here and we can let it empower us, or we can let it burn us out. What we can’t do is deny it exists, and that it’s taking over our lives. How are you going to hustle it?

PS: if you’re marketing dressage cross-stitch pillows, I want to see them. And if you’re making something awesome – contact me! I’m going to start a monthly feature on equestrians with side-hustles!

Valentine’s Day Hearts

Happy Valentine’s Day, horsey friends and book friends! You’re my favorite overlap on the Venn Diagram of my obsessions.

I don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day with chocolates or flowers, or anything, because I’m a snooty kind of person about holidays in general… I need a better reason to buy things or demand things than “this aisle at Target is even more red than usual,” but there are some traditions no one should turn their nose up at. I am, of course, referring to candy hearts! Which are disgusting in real life! But are fun to turn into memes!

equestrian valentine's day hearts

Happy Valentine’s Day, you crazy horsepeople!

The other tradition is tomorrow’s half-off candy sugarthon. There better be some Reese’s Hearts left over at Walgreens!! (I will make this a healthy tradition this year by riding my bike there. Maybe.)

It’s true a big chunk of my disregard for all commercial holidays comes from my non-holiday-celebrating youth (I belonged to one of those religions at the time), but any chance I had at being a normal American consumer was also stymied by my status as an equestrian. Holidays? What holidays? Every day is the same when you have horses to feed and stalls to muck.

Back when I was riding in the New York City Parks Department, one of my colleagues was upset because my partner and I took the horses out on a short patrol of Central Park on Christmas Day.

“But the horses need to go out and stretch their legs,” I argued. “Why would I skip riding just because it’s a holiday?”

In actuality I should have skipped riding because it was about twenty-two degrees and windy that Christmas Day, but we managed to do a turn around the lower park loop without losing any of our extremities. And the horses seemed to enjoy themselves.

But the food element of any holiday is something all equestrians can get behind, so three cheers for chocolate hearts, and I’ll see you in the check-out line tomorrow, my arms overflowing with sweetness.

Thanks everyone for making 2019 such a special year so far! You all deserve a fantastic Valentine’s Day – and as much chocolate as you can carry tomorrow.

Lots of love,

Natalie

New Equestrian Fiction Coming in 2019

Having closed out 2018 with two new equestrian fiction novels — Horses in Wonderland and Luck, I’m really excited to say there will be plenty of new fiction in 2019! This is going to be a very big year of goals, deadlines, and lots of frantic typing… in other words, it’s a dream year for a writer.

new equestrian fiction in 2019

It’s a big year for new equestrian fiction!

If you’re looking for more of my equestrian fiction coming in 2019, the first place to start will be Patreon. If it goes live on Amazon, it will start its life at Patreon. And this year, Patreon will also be home to exclusive fiction.

Exclusive New Equestrian Fiction at Patreon

I’ve started the year with A Thousand Tiny Bites, a novella featuring split narratives from Jules (The Eventing Series) and Alex (The Alex and Alexander Series). Jules and Alex are together on the horse-shopping trip from hell! Every other week, Patreon supporters who subscribe from $1 per month get a new chapter of this unique novella — one week it’s from Jules’s point of view, and the next week it’s from Alex’s. This novella will remain exclusive to Patreon users after its conclusion, so if you want to read it, Patreon is the only place to find it.

Plus, as a special bonus, when I reach $200 per month in subscriptions, I’ll create a special ebook edition of A Thousand Tiny Bites, just for Patreon supporters!

The new Eventing Series novel is coming to Patreon

new equestrian fiction in 2019 - book 5 of the eventing series

The next update on Mickey and Jules is coming in 2019!

First draft fans who loved reading Horses in Wonderland as I wrote it are in for another insider look as I begin work on the fifth installment in The Eventing Series. Featuring the latest drama/adventures of Jules and Pete, a trainer couple with big dreams and little bank balances, this novel is going to be a wild tale with some new challenges for the team and their beloved horses, including Dynamo, Mickey, Regina and more.

Patreon supporters with a $5 per month subscription will get to read the new Eventing Series novel in its first draft form as I write it, plus receive a download of the finished book upon ebook publication. Plus, the first draft chapters of Horses in Wonderland are still in the archives, and I’m not planning on taking them down–enjoy!

More to come

This is just the start of 2019’s writing agenda, so if you’re looking for new equestrian fiction in 2019, stay tuned! There are a lot of new words and stories coming from this writer.

Be sure to explore the tiers at Patreon — I’ve added a lot of variety so that there is plenty of content and value for everyone. It’s the best way to get first access to my writing, plus help support the creation of new stories. Without my Patreon supporters, I would not have been able to publish Horses in Wonderland last year. It’s just an incredible way to connect and gain the financial support I need to put aside commercial work and focus on fiction.

Visit my Patreon Page for details.

First Read: Horses in Wonderland

Horses in Wonderland Kindle CoverThe sequel to Show Barn Blues is now on pre-sale at Amazon! Thanks to so many readers for making it a number one horse book in several categories! Lots of early readers at Patreon have been loving the updates to the story of Grace, Kennedy, Anna and the other riders, grooms and boarders at Seabreeze Equestrian Center. If you’re not a Patreon member, no worries! Here’s the first chapter of Horses in Wonderland, just to give you a taste of what’s coming.

Just for reference, this book takes place about two years after Show Barn Blues. If you read The Eventing Series, you’ll know that the summer after Show Barn Blues takes place in Pride, Book 2 of The Eventing Series. This action, while it doesn’t overlap with The Eventing Series, picks up the summer after Luck, Book 4 of The Eventing Series.

Grace has been dealing with the increasing construction around her farm for years now, and she’s the last hold-out in what used to be an equestrian neighborhood. A luxury resort is going in right next door, and the construction noise is taking its toll on daily life at the equestrian center. What should she do? Grace thinks it might be time to move on.

Take a look…

Horses in Wonderland

Chapter 1

Summer was in the air, and in Florida, that feeling was more like a warning than a promise.

The morning’s heavy humidity had settled onto my skin like a cloak the moment I left my little bungalow. The wooden porch steps, gently rotting into slivers and chips after living through eighty seasons of dry winters and wet summers, squeaked a good morning beneath my boots. All of the wood—the floorboards, the porch, the stairs—had more give on humid mornings. More pliable, more squeaky. I could tell the new season had arrived from the moment I put my feet on the floor this morning. The longer you lived somewhere, the more you became aware of the barometers all around you. Nature forecast the weather every day, in chirps and frog-song, in locust chorals and soft westerly winds, in spiraling leaves and creaking wood. I paused at the foot of the steps and stretched, dew-drops clinging to the hairs on my arms. A spiderweb glittering from the little crooked light by the front door. A dark early-May morning at the end of a short spring. Perhaps my last spring here, in the house my grandfather built. I paused at the bottom step, swept my gaze around, and soaked in my surroundings.

The pre-dawn sky had just lightened to cobalt, a blue growing richer with every passing second. A swirl of fog wound its way through a small glade of live oaks. Just beyond it, the blue-white light over the barn’s side-entrance hummed away, swooping moths orbiting its moon-glow. I pointed the toes of my well-worn paddock boots towards the barn, brushed a few unruly strands of gray and brown forelock from my eyes, and started off to work. My footsteps were softened by the wet leaves piled up on the sparse grass and sandy patches beneath the trees, but the horses would still hear me. I imagined them turning their heads all at once, ears pricked, gazing into the darkness, ready to turn on their whinnies and neighs at precisely the right moment.

My gaze shifted to the right, towards the construction site next door. There was a model villa going up over there, with just a thin belt of pine trees left to shield the future residents from the smelly, noisy reality of equestrian life. Just wait until the first morning someone left their windows open all night and heard my barn’s wake-up song, belted out in three dozen or more untrained voices, each more shrill and lusty than the last.

A tree frog peeped in the gutter above the open barn door as my feet hit the pavement, but he was quickly drowned out by those thirty-some roaring horses. From across the driveway, the night turn-out horses neighed and pushed at their paddock gates, adding the rattling of chains to the morning music recital.

“How quickly you forget,” I announced to the barn at large, flipping on the lights. “Twelve hours ago you were a herd of cows in clover.”

The barn’s overhead lamps were huge, the kind you saw in school gyms, and they’d take a good fifteen minutes to warm up to full capacity. For now, the broad barn aisle ahead of me was washed in a cool dim glow. The horses blinked at the sudden shift from nighttime to twilight, and then went straight back to whinnying. A few kicks were added here and there, fore-hooves shoved against stall doors, hind hooves slammed against side walls to prove some point to the neighboring horse.

“Your percussion section is out of rhythm,” I observed.

No one listened to me. They never did.

“Good morning,” I continued the greetings to my left and my right as I proceeded down the wide concrete aisle, horses on either side of me stamping and shouting for my immediate attention. I alternated between pleasantries and protestations. “Good god. Yes, I get it. Hello, Ivor. Yes, you’re hungry. Good morning, Splash! Oh, please, all of you shut up, it’s too early for this.”

No one listened. Two long aisles of horses sang the song of their people. It was me against the herd, and I’d given up trying to shout them down years ago. Everything I said these days was for my own benefit.

At the end of the aisle, just past the school tack room where the heaps of battered riding lesson tack and brush boxes perched on top of weathered old tack trunks, I turned left and unlocked the feed room door. It was odd, and a little pleasant, to be here alone. Usually there would be grooms here throwing down hay and getting everyone’s bellies settled with some roughage before their grain, but this morning I’d started early, so it would be just me out here for a while. I didn’t feel like listening to the barn complaints for the next twenty minutes while I went out to the hay-shed and loaded up the Gator with bales of timothy, so they could eat their grain first for once. The magazines promised dire consequences for horses who were fed grain on empty stomachs, but I was already several decades deep into housekeeping before those veterinary studies had come out, and I felt comfortable breaking their rules from time to time.

I had to rummage through two trash cans full of pellets and sweet feed before I found the feed scoop in its shallow grave, buried under the alfalfa pellets. One of my employees, Kennedy, had been in charge of refilling the feed bins last night, and she could be a little scatterbrained. I dug it out with a sigh, glad she wasn’t around right now. I wasn’t up to Kennedy’s bright-eyed enthusiasm at this time of morning.

Six o’clock was early for me, but I would be short on help today and figured I’d better get a head-start, because the afternoon tumult of riding lessons and trail rides was not going to take a vacation just because my groom head-count was down by three. Not so many months ago, there had been enough grooms for the endless work of keeping a massive show barn ticking over smoothly, but the threat of moving properties was hovering over our heads, and grooms were not known to stay aboard sinking ships. As they went on to greener pastures, one by one, I waved bon voyage to the tail-lights of their pick-up trucks, then trudged back into the barn to take on a few more of their abandoned responsibilities. There was no point in trying to hire people when I couldn’t promise whether their job would be here or an hour away in six months.

Beneath the sterile gleam of fluorescent lights, I pulled out the morning supplement packs, individually packaged for each horse, and stacked them in order on top of the grain cart. I dumped what was left of the pellets in the trash can into the grain cart’s well and topped it off with most of another fifty-pound bag. I grabbed a couple of old Strongid buckets’ worth of alfalfa pellets and sweet feed from the other trash cans. Then I threw the feed scoop on top of the whole pile, dragged the heavy cart into the aisle, and stopped immediately at the first stall on my left.

A bay Hanoverian mare named Catarina eyeballed me, and then the grain cart, with barely contained excitement. She whinnied explosively and kicked her door. “Stop it,” I snapped, the words blended into one fierce command, and reached down for the first supplement pack.

Moses, the name on the pack read.

At this moment, I realized I’d stacked the supplement packs backwards. I redid them. There were thirty-seven in all. The horses were not amused with this delay. Catarina, with her front-row seat to the proceedings, nearly had a fit. “Here,” I sighed, throwing a scoop of grain through the little feed door above her bucket, and dumping the supplements on top of it. She dug in with her mouth wide open, like a lion going for the kill, before I had even pulled back my hand. I whacked her with the plastic supplement pack for being so rude, but she ignored me. Food was more important than a puny slap from a puny human.

By six forty-five every horse was finished with grain and nosing through fresh hay, and I was exhausted. Well, not exhausted from the work I’d done, precisely, but at the thought of so much more to come, with the same routine yet to come tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, forever and ever. I’d been the manager for so long, and I’d done precisely that: I’d managed. You, go handle feed. Carole, go handle hay. Mike, start filling water buckets. Liz, pull off blankets. Me, I’ll be in the office, going over the day’s schedule. Carole, Mike and Liz were all part of the past now. Tom had been gone even longer, off to work with his first love, marine mammal rescue. I had Margaret, Kennedy and Anna full-time still, and part-time help from some Ocala castaways. Ricky and Nadine were young but battered, in that way a poor Southern upbringing can mark a person. Ricky drove a rock truck most days, hauling dirt to the construction site next door. Nadine worked part-time at a Hair Cuttery. Both of them spent Saturday through Monday here, mucking stalls and being generally useful while they gave the full-time grooms a much-needed day off.

I looked up over the central rank of stalls to the windows overlooking the barn floor. My dark office window looked blankly down, useless without me peering out of it, watching the barn live its own measured life.

My phone rang from somewhere down the aisle and I ran for it.

“Kennedy?” I answered, breathless from my sprint to the feed room where I’d abandoned my phone on a shelf next to a tub of bute. “Please tell me you’re coming today. We have six horses going out at two and—“

“Of course I’m coming,” Kennedy laughed. She was always so awake. Kennedy was twenty-six and had a naturally chipper attitude which had made her perfect for the role of princess at a long-running dinner show on the other side of the theme park district. This also made her perfect for teaching little girls to ride and for leading trail rides. She put on a very convincing cowboy-themed ride, which was especially impressive when you considered we were operating in a rapidly developing section of Florida and the trails were based out of an English show barn, about as far from the Wild West as one could go. “I just wanted to know if you needed help early this morning. I’m up, so…”

I looked outside, across the empty parking lot towards the pine woods at the farm’s eastern border. The sky was just turning pink above the stark longleaf pines and the spike-edged palmettos, and a hint of morning light was creeping into the barn, brushing the stalls closest to the end, inching across the feed room floor towards my boots. At my far right, the hay shed stood dark and forbidding, stacked high with bales. I still had to throw down bales and get everyone fed up. The night horses had to be brought in, and the day horses turned out. The night horses were watching me steadily over the dark fencing, occasionally belting out a fresh chorus of whinnies in case I’d forgotten them. Behind the paddocks, along the farm’s southern fence-line, a red-tiled villa was catching the first glints of orange sunlight, a morning glow highlighting its fanciful arches and mosaic tile-work around the windows. The model home for the new resort village going in next door, somehow closer to my barn than my own house was. The sight of it was enough to make me droop.

“I need help,” I said honestly, and I remembered that not long ago, I couldn’t have admitted that, not to Kennedy, not to anyone. As more years went by, the more thankful I was for people like her. People who got up at six-thirty for no apparent reason and thought, I should go into work early today.

“I’ll be right over,” Kennedy promised. “With breakfast. Hey, when is Anna coming back?”

“This afternoon, I hope,” I said. “I haven’t seen her car here yet.”

“I hope so. I miss her so much.”

Something about Kennedy’s tone made me pause. She was given to extravagant emotions, so I would always expect her to react just a little over-the-top when someone close to her did something basic and expected, like go home and visit her parents for a week as Anna had done. I missed Anna, naturally; my sweet and unruffled barn manager had been part of my barn family for years, and she was certainly the calm glue that held us together when ridiculous situations—hurricanes, wildfires, a skunk in the feed room—threatened our sanity.

But Kennedy sounded as if she was absolutely pining for Anna to come home.

“Look for her when you’re back from your trail ride,” I suggested. “I better get back to work now. There’s a lot on this morning and just me right now.”

“Okay, I’m leaving now. And I’m bringing breakfast,” the optimist said. “Just relax.”

I slipped the phone into the back pocket of my jeans. Just relax. Just relax. Kennedy was out of her mind if she thought I had the luxury to relax for one damn minute. I hadn’t spent all these decades running a show barn for my health and mental wellbeing.

I hustled out of the feed room and up the barn aisle, ready to start swapping turn-out horses with stalled ones before the construction clamor started up next door. I’d gotten through two paddocks and had two horses in hand, just leading them through the gate of their paddock, when the first rock trucks started roaring by on the other side of the back fence. The horse on my right spooked forward, the horse on my left spooked backward. I was splayed out like a scarecrow, hauling on both lead-ropes in an effort to reel them back in.

“That noise is hardly new,” I scolded, tapping a wide-eyed warmblood on the nose once I had him heading in the right direction again. “Why don’t you get a grip?” With that, I released them both into the paddock so they could bolt around like idiots, snorting and snapping their tails, as if they hadn’t been living next to a construction site for the past six months.

“Might as well get over it,” I advised, snapping the gate closed. “Because it’s not going to change any time soon.”

I walked across the driveway and back inside the barn for the next two horses, thinking again that it was time to get over myself, get a new farm, and get out of here, forever.

Read more at Patreon with a subscription, or pre-order your copy of Horses in Wonderland at Amazon

Horses in Wonderland Now on Sale

If you’re looking for something new for your Kindle, pre-order Horses in Wonderland and it will download automatically on December 26th, 2018. That’s perfect if you’re looking for a good excuse to hide out from family after the holiday… just let them know you have some very important reading to do!

Just to catch you up, Horses in Wonderland is the sequel to Show Barn Blues, and yes, I can totally use “long-awaited” to describe it. After all, Show Barn Blues came out in 2015. That’s three years ago. And I’ve been getting requests for more about Grace and Kennedy and all of Seabreeze Equestrian Center ever since.

Horses in Wonderland Facebook Cover.png

With this book, I decided to have some fun with the surroundings. Seabreeze is located just outside of the tourist mecca of Walt Disney World Resort, which makes for a very strange equine experience. I based the barn itself and a lot of its unique problems on my time as a manager at Grand Cypress Equestrian Center, an old central Florida institution which closed its doors about ten years ago (making me officially old). I also took inspiration from some of my favorite places around Walt Disney World, including Disney’s Fort Wilderness Resort & Campground, Disney’s Boardwalk Inn, and, of course, the Magic Kingdom.

Horses in Wonderland Kindle Cover.jpgThe result, I think, is a lot of fun.

If you’re dying to take a look at Horses in Wonderland right now, every blessed page of it is available to subscribers at Patreon! At the $5 a month subscription level, you can read the entire first/second draft, plus you’ll receive a copy of the finished Kindle book in your email on publication day. (And you’ll get to read whatever I start writing next, as I write it.)

If you’re ready to pre-order the Kindle, hop over to Amazon and get that bad boy set to download on Dec. 26.

And if you’re waiting on a glorious paperback to hug and love and admire on your bookshelf, please stay tuned for the release date! (Viva physical media!)

Thank you for your support and the encouragement to continue Grace’s story!

Get HORSES IN WONDERLAND here.

Join me at Patreon here.

 

Equine Affaire and New Equestrian Fiction Alert

November is somehow always my busiest month, and this year is no exception. I have two huge announcements for readers!

1. Equine Affaire 2018 Booksigning

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I haven’t been to Equine Affaire since 2016, so I am thrilled to come back November 10-11 to sign books and chat with readers! I’ll be at the wonderful Taborton Equine Books on Saturday from 1 – 4 PM & 5 – 7 PM. Then again on Sunday, 10 AM – 1 PM.

Please come over to say hello! Bring your books if you’d like them signed, or there will be plenty on hand from Taborton’s inventory as well. This is always one of my happiest weekends of the year, because we all come out from behind our computers and actually get to chat and maybe hug and it’s just wonderful.

2. Read HORSES IN WONDERLAND right now

Photo by Kira auf der Heide on Unsplashkira-auf-der-heide-488405-unsplash.jpg

I’ve just uploaded all thirty chapters of the sequel to SHOW BARN BLUES to Patreon. These are the unedited chapters of my manuscript, the same ones that go to my editor and beta readers for fixing and commenting. You can read them right now, plus get a download of the finished edition on publication day, when you subscribe to Patreon for $5 a month. Chapters 1-15 are available now, and Chapters 16-30 will upload every day, tomorrow through November 19.

I haven’t decided on a pre-order date or final publish date yet, so if you’re looking for early access, plus lots of other unpublished bits of story and chapters, Patreon is the place to be!

Finally, a huge thanks to all of my current Patreon subscribers, of all levels. Your support has allowed me to give up freelancing, spend all of my “free time” on writing this novel, and even covered my expenses in getting to Equine Affaire this year. There is simply no way I could have finished HORSES IN WONDERLAND this year without you. Equestrian Fiction is powered by readers!

Visit Patreon here to see what it’s all about.