Where did that idea come from?

Mr Fudge (and me)

In the past few weeks, my writing group, the Inkwells, have been doing a 'November Instagram Challenge’ in which we shared writing news, tips, inspirations and a number of other insights into our writing lives. And that made all of us think - what types of things do inspire our writing? I think we all shared a story that made us appreciate how particular life events become so important to us. They might end up being a prompt for a story, or merely something that we want to share in our books. I’ve found that to be the case in quite a few of my novels, where I’ve written about re-homed racehorses. What happens to a horse (that might be purchased for a fortune because he or she has the potential to earn a lot of money on the track) if it turns out the horse, through injury or lack of speed, is retired from racing and becomes, to some owners, more or less worthless?

Oval Office the racehorse

Some owners, privately or through excellent organisations that work with the racing industry, find very happy homes for ex-racehorses. My childhood friend’s horse, Oval Office, a very successful racehorse, is one example of this. Rina re-schooled this wonderful horse, who became very successful (and much loved!) as a dressage horse. Other horses, sadly, end up in the knackers yard because they haven’t got the right look or temperament to be sold, and the original owner isn’t willing to pay for the re-training required.

My personal story of a horse I owned for many years, being given a second chance, was discussed in one of my Instagram posts:

Oval Office the dressage horse

Every picture paints a story.... the picture above is me on my pony Mr Fudge, who had quite a story of his own. My first pony was a young mare called Susie. I was around nine when she bit my cheek (I still have a tooth mark scar) and my parents thought another pony might be more suitable… At that time, the (now) legendary horse trainer Heath Harris (involved with films such as The Man From Snowy River, Gallipoli, Phar Lap and many others) was on the look out for mares - and we did a direct swap. Heath had rescued Fudge, who was destined for the knackery. Fudge had been a riding school horse, Prince, for about 15 years and had been pretty well ridden to death, but Heath believed he deserved another chance. It was winter when Fudge came to us, and his coat was so shaggy and white that I called him Snowball. But within weeks his golden palomino colour emerged and we changed his name. Over the next few years, Fudge competed in pony club (including State level) and horse shows. He was such a character and we became quite adept at hiding his bad habits in the show ring! Fudge had arthritis by the time my family moved to Victoria but we took him with us and he lived for many more years in his retirement. I never really grew out of him though, and in warmer weather I’d leave my big horses at home, saddle him up and we’d relive our glory days (or so we thought!) together. I’ve known quite a few rescue horses - and tend to re-home quite a few of them in my novels. Fudge was a testament to what can happen when horses are given a second chance, and that, in fact, is one of the themes in Starting From Scratch.