Wrangler Dani

I wrote a little picture book called Buzz the Not-So-Brave about my quirky, loyal, hard-working and yes, not very brave Quarter Horse.

We’re deep in book-editing, illustration-layout, marketing-planning at this point. It’s exciting, thrilling and LORD HAVE MERCY terrifying. I told a friend recently that I should have titled my book Dani the Not-So-Brave because putting my story out there, even if it is clothed in cute illustrations and horsey talk, isn’t easy for my little faint heart.

Yesterday we took Buzz’s shoes off for the winter. When my farrier walked around his truck to put away his tools, Buzz spooked as though a bear was lunging around the corner, intent on horse-meat for breakfast. I chuckled and said, “Poor Buzz. He’s always surprised by his life.”

I have empathy because I too, am spooking at every-day occurrences and surprised by my life. Although it has been my singular goal for years to put a book in the world and I know the industries well (both the publishing and the horsey one) I am quaking in my non-proverbial boots. What if no one likes it? What if this is a giant waste of everyone’s time? What if I was never meant to write a kids book?

Yes, yes I hear myself. Now this whining is indeed a waste of everyone’s time, thinks my inner critic.

But what if it’s not. What if the point of creativity is this exposed nerve, this daring to exist. what if I am publishing a little book about courage because I cannot teach something I do not know.

I hate it when people watch me ride horses, and admit that I am not the most beautiful rider. This isn’t a plea for sympathy or a self-deprecating joke – it’s simply a statement of fact. But sometimes my students ask me to ride for them, or sometimes I have to work something out on a horse, and yes, I have to be watched, even though I feel my every mistake with clarity and my mombod jiggling in unflattering ways. But even though it’s humbling, even though I am exposed, it isn’t hopeless. I can ask for help and coaching because we are dealing with reality, not a facade of perfection. I can be encouraged in who I really am and not who I wish I was, encouragement that reaches my soul instead of landing impotently on the mask I hold in front of my face.

The point isn’t perfection but progress. Lying about my weaknesses isn’t strength, it’s deception. Cowboys used to advise me to not be afraid because the horse would know – which I translated to “lie about your weakness and pretend to be fine”. (Spoiler alert, I got trampled and broke some ribs after that advice.) I’ve learned that pretending to not be afraid is a great way to get hurt – acknowledging the fear and tacking up anyway is real stalwart courage.

So I’m giving myself (and you, and our sweet Buzz) a pep-talk. It’s OK to be not-so-brave. Together, we’re saddling up anyway, daring to dream, to exist, to assert that we have a story to tell.

(Buzz the Not-So-Brave gallops into a bookstore near you May 2022. If you want to support us, please share this with your friends and follow @buzzthenotsobrave on IG.)