Why I Write

When I was ten, two life changing moments occurred:

One: I used pocket money to purchase the Scholastic publication of the classic horse story, Black Beauty, through the book club catalog we received in Primary School.

Two: I became the sudden owner of a rescued, yearling black Shetland pony colt.

I’d watched the 1994 adaption of the book so many times, I knew the story by heart, but it was the book, and the little back-note of just why the author wrote Black Beauty, which has forever stayed with me. Anna Sewell began the momentous task of writing the story of Black Beauty in the hopes of improving the understanding and treatment of the working horse. She said, “A special aim was to induce kindness, sympathy, and an understanding treatment of horses.”

When Toby came into my life, he was an angry and scared monster, unused to kindness or a gentle hand. I read that damn book to him three times from start to finish, at first beyond the reach of his teeth and flailing hoofs, and then, as he came to trust and see all was well, sitting with him in the grass beneath the almond trees. Ten year old me hoped to impart Black Beauty’s wisdom upon the half-wild pony.

“I hope you will grow up gentle and good, and never learn bad ways; do your work with a good will, lift your feet up well when you trot, and never bite or kick even in play.” ~ Anna Sewell, Black Beauty

Toby is now in his early twenties, and the above quote stands true. Okay, not quite, he nips in play, but I would not deny him all his mischievous Shetland antics!

By this point, you, dear reader, are probably all wondering why a single book, and a half-wild turned gentle pony have anything to do with why I write? Anna Sewell, who had fought progressing health issues since childhood, published Black Beauty in 1877, in the hope of changing the treatment of horses. Five months later, she passed away. Her book however began to change the treatment of working horses, with the decline in the practice of using a bearing rein on carriage driven horses, among other horse husbandry, improving their quality of life.

I’ve always loved writing, but it was not until, ironically, after a serious horseriding accident, I took it up in earnest. In those early days, I was much like Anna Sewell; bedridden, and unable to walk. At first writing was an outlet for me during those dark days where I had no idea if I would be running, let alone walking, ever again. Those days are thankfully over, and I'm still writing, and thankfully still running! There isnow there is purpose behind the passion, and that sad and sorry stint being bedridden re-awakened my imagination in a big way.

I write to hopefully bring to readers what I as a reader have experienced from books; an escape when real life is not so flash, but also a spectrum of emotions which ignite compassion, empathy, and a new view on the world. Just like Anna Sewell did,

I write to change the world.

~ Jessa

Excerpt below from Black Beauty, regarding the bearing rein.

‘As for me, I was obliged still to go in the carriage, and had a fresh partner called Max; he had always been used to the tight rein. I asked him how it was he bore it.

“Well,” he said, “I bear it because I must; but it is shortening my life, and it will shorten yours too if you have to stick to it.”

“Do you think,” I said, “that our masters know how bad it is for us?”

“I can’t say,” he replied, “but the dealers and the horse-doctors know it very well. I was at a dealer’s once, who was training me and another horse to go as a pair; he was getting our heads up, as he said, a little higher and a little higher every day. A gentleman who was there asked him why he did so. ‘Because,’ said he, ‘people won’t buy them unless we do. The London people always want their horses to carry their heads high and to step high. Of course it is very bad for the horses, but then it is good for trade. The horses soon wear up, or get diseased, and they come for another pair.’ That,” said Max, “is what he said in my hearing, and you can judge for yourself.”

What I suffered with that rein for four long months in my lady’s carriage it would be hard to describe; but I am quite sure that, had it lasted much longer, either my health or my temper would have given way. Before that, I never knew what it was to foam at the mouth, but now the action of the sharp bit on my tongue and jaw, and the constrained position of my head and throat, always caused me to froth at the mouth more or less. Some people think it very fine to see this, and say, “What fine spirited creatures!” But it is just as unnatural for horses as for men to foam at the mouth; it is a sure sign of some discomfort, and should be attended to. Besides this, there was a pressure on my windpipe, which often made my breathing very uncomfortable; when I returned from my work my neck and chest were strained and painful, my mouth and tongue tender, and I felt worn and depressed.’

~ Anna Sewell, Black Beauty