Hey Roses and Readers, please welcome Liz Flaherty today!
I
don’t think I can write another word.
It has been the winter of
discontent. Of family illnesses and surgeries, and as February finally came to
an end, loss. But time and publishing wait on no one, and my new book, Every Time We Say Goodbye, came out April
1. You all know what happens then—you spread yourself around, holding up a
figurative hand with a figurative book in it and saying Here I am! You blog, you sign books, you do giveaways, you talk
wherever anyone will listen, and you keep smiling even on the days you feel
heartbreak nipping at your heels.
I’m working on two manuscripts,
which I hardly ever do, and making sketchy progress on them both, because I
tend to think too often that, as I said above, I can’t write another word.
But it’s a pretty day here today.
I’m looking out the window beside my desk at the awakening lawn. My husband
mowed it over the past couple of days, all three acres of it, and the grass
lies in bright green beautiful strips.
That he mowed one at a time. When
the wind was blowing. When his hip hurt. Or his knee hurt. While he grieved the
loss of his mother. Or while there were a thousand other things he wanted to
do.
That is the way of it then, isn’t
it, when we feel as though one more word or one more strip of grass is one too
many. We just go ahead and do it. One at a time.
When I visited Roses of Prose in
January of 2015, I’d just signed a new contract, and I said, “The book...was
shockingly difficult to write. It took ten months or so, not a really long time
for me, but it seemed longer.” What a blessing it is that now that the book is
out with a different and better title than I gave it and a cover I’ve grown
used to, I don’t remember how hard it was to write. I don’t remember how many
days I thought I’d never finish it. I don’t remember, although I know it’s
true, that I wrote it one word at a time even when I thought I couldn’t.
***
He had her at “hello again…”
After the prom night accident that had stolen the
innocence of his small lakeside hometown, Jack Llewellyn had run. The
guilt—especially facing his high school sweetheart, Arlie Gallagher—had been
too much. Now he had no choice. He was back in town, and on Arlie’s radar.
Arlie couldn’t believe that after all these years, she
still had him under her skin. He was such a changed man…a responsible business
owner, a single parent. Would he understand the changes she’d gone through, the
secrets she lived with? She was ready to forgive him but was he ready to
forgive himself? And did they have to say goodbye this time?
Buy
links:
B &
N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/every-time-we-say-goodbye-liz-flaherty/1122822597?ean=9780373367863
Harlequin: http://www.harlequin.com/storeitem.html;jsessionid=9C747F81499204563E22D33236264F89?iid=64137&cid=
***
Liz Flaherty thinks one of the things that keeps you young when you
quite obviously aren’t anymore is the constant chances you have to reinvent
yourself. Her latest professional incarnation is as a Harlequin Heartwarming
author and she is enjoying every minute! She’d love to hear from you at lizkflaherty@gmail.com or please come and see her at http://www.facebook.com/lizkflaherty
24 comments:
Beautiful story, Liz, about the creation of a beautiful story. We've had a similar year to yours, also ending in a similar loss. So true when we feel we can never again go on....we do! Thanks for the heartfelt reminder and best of luck with this latest one.
Thank you, Margo. I'm certainly grateful spring always comes.
Lovely, heartfelt sentiments from a lady who is still dealing with loss. This takes time. We don't often get to crawl into bed and pull the covers over our heads. Life pushes us to deal...even when we think we can't write one more word, mow one more blade of grass, or cook another meal. We all have our limits. I tend to think I can't write another word as I finish a book. By then I am so brain-fried and emotionally drained. I've learned to do "human" things again. Play in the dirt and plant things. Clean out closets. Walk through the mall.
Beautiful post. My condolences to your family on your mother-in-law's passing. And best wishes for a successful book release. Life is just that intriguing a blend of joy and sorrow, isn't it.
I hear you, Liz--on all counts! Best of luck with the new release!
Hi, Vonnie, and I know it's good for us that we CAN'T crawl into bed and pull the covers over our heads, but there are certainly times...
Hi, Ashantay. The blend is a wonderful thing, but sometimes the hard parts are just...hard. :-) Thanks for coming by.
Thanks, Cheryl. It was good to see you the other day!
Eloquently said, Liz. And sometimes the writing itself is what gets us through those hard times. Sometimes. Congratulations on your new book!!
Thanks, Leigh. The writing does get us through, doesn't it? Although it doesn't seem like it at the time!
Great post, Liz, and I do so empathize with your winter of discontent and sorrow. But you are an amazing writer and the words will come when they're ready to come and maybe even if they're not and you just make it happen. ((hugs))
So sorry for your difficult year and your loss. Yes, we keep on keeping on despite our difficulties, sickness, and "life" that smacks us down. We get up and keep trying. Best wishes on your new release.
But you will keep writing those words because it's what we do...and you do it so well. Here's wishing you a happier spring ahead.
Liz, I'm so sorry. The loss of a loved one colors every day for months, but as you said, we go on, day by day. For those of us who are writers--page by page, word by word. Sometimes the writing goes like that even when we're not grieving. On a brighter note, I can't wait to read your new book. I love ALL your books!
Thank you, Nan. It's coming back, I think, but slow!
Thank you, Diane. I do love release months.
Thank you, Jannine. I so appreciate that.
Hi, Alison. Thank you so much. My mother-in-law visits me in my dreams frequently since she passed. They're not about her, but she's in them, and I'm pretty sure any night now, she's going to say, "Don't blame me if you're having trouble--you're letting this go on much too long." And I'll say "yes, ma'am" and pay attention.
Liz, suffering of any kind, whether it is illness or loss, always puts the reins on us writers. I'm glad you had the strength to go on.
I agree that it does, Andi. I suppose because suffering requires as much of our emotional fortitude as writing does and you don't get to close the file on it.
I've had a few good writing days lately, and I'm so grateful for them (maybe my Moms arranged them because they're tired of my whining).
I'm so sorry, Liz. I don't have much to add to what everyone else said, but please know that others are thinking of you and your family, sending good thoughts and prayers for healing (in whatever ways needed).
Thank you so much, Leah. It is better, and gets better every day. Although our loss IS sad, we know how lucky we were that she lived a long and satisfying life.
A moving, and inspiring post. My condolences on your loss and my best to you as you continue to move forward, one word at a time.
Thank you, Alicia.
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