Pony Essay Writing Contest Coming Soon!

My apologies for the delay in keeping up with my blog. Life doesn't always make room for all we hope to get done in a day, and as fellow horse people, I know you know what I mean.

COMING SOON! The second annual writing contest for all horse or pony people! Winner gets a $15 gift certificate to Barnes and Noble Bookstore and their essay will be posted on this blog. Check back on July 4th for the full details.

ReRun Thoroughbred Adoption

The Horse Park of New Jersey is proud to announce the addition of ReRun as the benefactor of the 2010 Jersey Fresh International Three Day Event scheduled for May 6-9, 2010. This event will also serve as a selection trial for the 2010 World Equestrian Games this coming summer in Lexington Kentucky

RERUN, is a 501(c)3 organization that was founded in 1996. ReRun’s mission is to provide rest, rehabilitation and retraining to Thoroughbred ex-racehorses who are no longer competitive at the racetrack. ReRun pioneered the concept that racehorses need not be retired but can be retrained for productive careers in a variety of riding disciplines. ReRun has placed hundreds of ex-racehorses in adoptive homes to do dressage, jumping, foxhunting, trail riding and even barrel racing.

ReRun maintains farms in New Jersey, New York, and a smaller chapter in North Carolina. The program cares for approximately 45 horses awaiting adoption and relies primarily on grants, donations and volunteers to operate. In 2009, ReRun was selected as the on site program for Monmouth Park and is responsible for assisting NJ owners and trainers with placing more horses from NJ racetracks. This program is partially funded by the New Thoroughbred Horseman’s Association and the Monmouth Park jockey colony.

ReRun conducts other fundraising efforts throughout the year, including a Day at the Races at Monmouth Park, an Annual Charity Horse Show at the NJ Horse Park and eBay auctions of its trademarked “Moneigh” ® horse paintings. This year’s holiday Moneigh auction was held November 29 to December 6. Over 40 famous Thoroughbreds, including such greats as Cigar, Funny Cide and Rags to Riches, have painted unique pieces of art using their muzzles, whiskers, tails and sometimes a paintbrush.

For more information about ReRun Thoroughbred Adoption, visit their web site by clicking here: ReRun

Ponies of the Heart, the Novel

The NEW title of my completed middle grade pony novel is:

PONIES OF THE HEART

Confessions of a School Pony
by Nanci Turner Steveson

The photo was taken last year after the real Tugboat's first Beginner Novice event and shows a heart clipped out of his fuzzy hindquarters. This was done long before I started looking for a new title for the novel. When his owner wrote and reminded me of this clip, and of the short story I wrote by the same name that was published several years ago well.... it was just so obvious.

Thank you to everyone who gave suggestions. I will keep you posted on the progress of the manuscript!

P.S. Sorry for the delay in posting over the last two months. My older son just went through more surgeries and I have been quite preoccupied with all of it down in Austin. Hopefully we have that behind us and we are eager to move forward.

The Tugboat Chronicles Needs a New Name!

I have spent the last few years writing a middle grade pony novel which has been called The Tugboat Chronicles ~ Confessions of a School Pony. I now need a new name and am asking for your help.

The editors who have worked with me over the years say I need something a bit more "bouncy," and fun. Something that will say it is a pony story by the title, which will be seen only on the spine of the book. I am also told using Tugboat's name in it implies it is for boys, and my market will be more girls (although I would HOPE there will be some boys who love the book, too!)

The book starts out when Tugboat is 4 years old and arrives at a new farm to be trained as a school pony. He isn't quite sure what a school pony is, and he doesn't know why he was taken from his home to this new farm. He would have been terribly lonely except for the friendship he has with a young homeless girl named Elizabeth, who visits him only at night when everyone else has gone home.

Tugboat is trained by Joe, the manager of the riding school, and soon becomes the most beloved lesson pony ever to trot around the ring. But even with all the human adoration, what Tugboat misses the most is the friendship of another pony because the stall next to him remains empty.

When a new pony finally arrives , Tugboat is taken back by how ugly and old Rusty is. He initially feels disappointed, but soon realizes Rusty is good and kind, and Tugboat becomes his devoted student and friend. It is through Rusty's life that Tugboat learns about the special bond between a pony and a child, and it is Rusty's death that plants the seeds of longing in Tugboat's heart to find the one child who will be lucky enough to call him "mine."

Throughout the book several different horses and ponies move in and out of the stall next to Tugboat and become his friend. Each horse/pony arrives with their own history, and each ones life turns a corner and goes off in a new direction when they leave. Through it all, Tugboat watches as one person after another claims his friends as their own, leaving him to wonder why no one picks him.

Now it would be silly of me to tell you the ending, so I won't. But it isn't what you're thinking.

So let those pieces of information noodle around in your head for a while, and if something clever, bouncy and captivating comes up, why please let me know!

When Your Daughter Says She Wants To Ride A Pony

Once upon a time a little girl named Emilie who lived in the city told her family she wanted to ride a pony. The family was very busy and knew nothing about ponies, so they scratched their heads and hoped if they didn’t mention it again the little girl would forget and pick another activity. Like soccer. Or playing with dolls.

But the little girl didn’t forget and every time they drove past a stable with ponies grazing in a field, she pressed her nose against the window of the car and dreamed of wrapping her tiny hands in a mane and galloping through the woods. She went to the library and checked out books about ponies. She learned all the different breeds, the assorted colors, what ponies ate, where they came from, and most importantly she discovered the yearning she felt was not going to go away. So she asked her parents again if she could please ride a pony.

The parents loved their daughter, so they made arrangements to take her to a free lesson at the local stable on a Sunday afternoon. Before they knew it, their daughter was enrolled in a weekly class. Every Saturday morning the Mom, Joy, drove her daughter to the stable and watched from outside the ring as Emilie learned to go up and down, up and down, and soon their car smelled like leather boots and mud and hay and peppermints.

Joy noticed that Emilie’s whole week was planned around the one hour lesson she took on Saturdays, and she saw how her quiet daughter laughed when she cantered around the ring. When Emilie started jumping and could speak of nothing but the excitement and happiness it brought her, Joy thought there must be something to this horseback riding thing and signed herself up for lessons, too.

Meanwhile, back at the city house, the very busy, high powered attorney father named Norm woke up one Saturday morning and realized he was alone. His family had all gone off to do their various activities and he had become an “accidental hermit”. The Dad thought of how each night at dinner his wife and daughter chatted happily about the horses they loved, the new things they learned together at the stable, and the way their favorite ponies warm breath felt on their hands when they lifted treats from their palm. So he put on his boots and drove to the stable where his wife and daughter were riding.

As soon as he took his first lesson, the Dad knew he was hooked. So he signed up for more lessons. He and his wife and daughter rode together in the evenings, and now at the dinner table, when they joined the son named Jed, they chatted together about horses and ponies and hay and mud and boots and bridles and horse colors and cantering. The brother Jed listened carefully and was happy for his family. But he was so busy with his own life he decided not to try riding himself, and that was okay.

One day the Dad found out he had a disease called MS, or Multiple Sclerosis. His doctor said he couldn’t run anymore, but for exercise he could still ride horses. So the Dad bought a horse for himself, one for his wife, and another for his daughter. Now the family included the Mom and the Dad, the little girl named Emilie, the brother named Jed, and three horses: Music, Jewell and Jake.

When the horse named Jake became sick he was retired to a farm with lots of grass, and the Mom and Dad bought the daughter another horse named Katarina. When they found out Katarina was going to have a surprise baby, they scratched their heads and wondered what to do. The high powered attorney and his family realized they didn’t want to live in the city with the traffic and the noise anymore, so they bought a house in the country and moved their horses across the bay. Music, Jake, Jewell, Katarina and her foal, who would be named Conan, made their home at a new farm across the lane from the country house where the family now lived.

Every morning when they left for work and school the family waved at their horses, grazing happily in their fields. Emilie, who was now a big girl, wondered if little girls pressed their faces to the window when they drove by her horses in the field and wished they, too, could ride a pony. Each evening the family walked across the road and spent many happy hours together at the stables with their horses.

Years later the daughter became a veterinary technician so she could help ponies who were sick. She raised and trained Katarina’s foal by herself, and lived surrounded by the horses she loved. The Mom, Joy, lost her beloved horse Jewell, so she bought another horse and decided she wanted to ride her new horse in competitions, like her daughter had so many years before. Norm, the high powered city attorney with MS, became a professional bird watcher and amateur photographer, and worked to save the land on the other side of the bay while riding his best friend, Music, through the fields and down the lanes. And in the evenings, when they gathered together, the family all laughed and scratched their heads and wondered what they would have been doing if the daughter hadn't asked to ride a pony.

The moral of this story is ~ when your little girl says she wants to ride a pony, remember all the possibilities life has to offer and embrace them. Then go buy the best pair of muck boots you can find, because you’re going to need them.

Many thanks to the St. Landau family for including me in their journey.

Ponies of the Heart, the Short Story

One of the best parts of my job as manager of a riding school was getting to play Santa and delivering ponies to the children for Christmas. The following story is a compilation of many different magical Christmas mornings. Please note, this was written and published before the "real" Tugboat book and is not connected in any way except for my never ending love for that pony.

Ponies Of The Heart

By Nanci Turner Steveson

I found Lemon Lane and made a wide turn to the right, clearing the side walk by at least a foot and leaving three sets of tire tracks in the fresh snow. Elizabeth didn’t know I was coming. Or at least, her father and I hoped she didn’t know. It had been a year since her mother left, and the sadness hung on.

Every Tuesday and every Friday eight year old Elizabeth came to my riding stable for her lesson on Tugboat. And every Tuesday and Friday she told me the same thing: “Tugboat is the pony of my heart.” Today he would become more than the “pony of her heart,” he would become “Elizabeth’s,” and I played the role of Mrs. Santa Claus.

Walking towards Tugboat’s stall yesterday, Elizabeth in her pink jacket with blonde hair tumbling down her back, and Tugboat in the pink saddle pad she had bought him, his golden tail swishing back and forth against a deep chestnut rump, the pair had an ethereal quality. Elizabeth cocked her head and whispered something, then put one tiny, pink-gloved hand out, offering him a sugar cube. Tugboat lifted it with his lips and crunched as they turned into his stall together, like water dancers.

The trailer fit snugly into the cul de sac parking spot, and the door rattled as I opened it and pulled down the ramp. Tugboat stared at me, baffled, the red bow I had tied in his forelock still in place. Our feet made tracks in the snow as we followed the path behind the row of suburban townhouses. Elizabeth’s father, Dan, told me to count past four back gates, and the fifth would be his. He was going to tie a red ribbon to the outside. It would have been embarrassing to end up waiting in the wrong yard, a pony in a red blanket by my side, most likely leaving a steaming gift behind in the snow.

The crimson ribbon had fallen to the ground, but I knew it was the right yard when I saw an old broom laid across the top of two trash cans. It was every horse-girl’s signature, a make-shift obstacle in the backyard to jump on their imaginary ponies. Through the sliding glass door I could see the Christmas tree, all the decorations hung on the lowest branches. Dan saw me and quickly turned away. This was the moment! Any minute now Elizabeth would see us, and one of her dreams would come true.

I warmed my hands under Tugboat’s mane. Soon something pink appeared by the tree. It was Elizabeth. Everything in her life was pink, except her pony. “Her” pony! The thought sent a shiver from the top of my head to my toes and I put my arm around Tugboat’s neck. Elizabeth’s head tilted back, her eyes studying the tree as she searched for something. Her father stood at her shoulder giving clues, but not once looking out the window to where I waited with Tugboat. Kneeling down, Elizabeth looked up the tree from underneath, her pink bunny slippers with pom-poms on the toes about three sizes too big for her feet. I suspected Dan hadn’t quite gotten the hang of buying clothes for her just yet. There had been so many things for him to learn.

Elizabeth pushed herself up off the floor and brushed stray pine needles from her hair, glancing outside for a split second before turning back to the tree. Suddenly her body twirled around to the glass door, her face blank, eyes wide, and her hands stretched out in front of her, forgotten. Tugboat’s breath fluttered from his nostrils like sheets of ice crystals. He stood so still I thought, “He must know.” Then his ears pricked toward the pink image and his body tensed.

“Be still,” I whispered. “It’s only Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth’s right hand touched her cheek, and when it landed she inhaled sharply and mouthed the words, “Daddy.” Dan stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder, the other unlocking the sliding glass door. When he pushed it open snow filtered down from the gutter into the living room, landing on Elizabeth’s pink bunny slippers.

“Daddy?!” I could hear her this time.

“It’s real, Elizabeth, it’s Tugboat, he’s here … for you…. for Christmas.” Dan’s words stuck in his throat. His eyes were damp. There was a momentary hush, then a noise escaped from Elizabeth that must have released a years worth of anguish. The stillness shattered, Elizabeth tripped out the door, skidded across the slippery deck, jumped into the snow and raced across the yard. Behind her, one pink slipper hung by it’s pom-pom from the edge of the deck; the other came off about half way across the yard.

“Tugboat! You’re mine! Forever and ever, you’re mine!” She flung her arms around Tugboat’s neck and buried her porcelain face into his mane. Laughing and crying, her feet continued to dance in place, her tiny toes barely touching the ground. Dan struggled across the yard, picking up her scattered slippers while trying not to slide on the snow. “Elizabeth! Your slippers! You lost your slippers!”

I heard a boy’s voice from the house next door call out, “Hey! Look! Elizabeth got a pony!” A family, still dressed in pajamas, peeked over the top of the fence. A muffled voice coming from the side of Tugboat’s neck proclaimed, “Not just any pony. I got Tugboat! The pony of my heart! He’s mine forever!”

Epilogue:

That night after I tucked the horses away and pulled the barn doors tight, I walked home across crunchy snow. A single light shone through my kitchen window. Inside, my grown daughter stood in her white flannel nightgown stirring a pot of our special Christmas hot chocolate. I remembered the pony of her heart the year her father died, a brown pony we called Coco. Looking up at the endless blue-black sky heavily laden with white lights, I knew that each one of those stars could represent a girl whose life had been made more secure, even for just one moment, by the “pony of her heart.”

Tugboat's Heart Butt

This was too cute not to share. Tugboat and Ceara did their first Beginner Novice Event last weekend. If you look closely at his hindquarter, Ceara scooped a heart shape out of his trace clip.

Congrats to Tugboat and Ceara for their success! What a truly happy pair. :-)