Showing posts with label Liz Flaherty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Liz Flaherty. Show all posts

Monday, April 25, 2016

ONE DAY AT A TIME by Liz Flaherty



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:

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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





Saturday, October 31, 2015

Sweet Holiday Romance by Liz Flaherty



Roses and Readers, join me in welcoming Liz Flaherty to The Roses of Prose.
Sometimes, as we all know, bad things happen to good people. They get more tricks than treats when they approach the What’s Next in Life? door. Cass Logan, the heroine of The Gingerbread Heart, my contribution to the USA Today bestselling boxed set A Heartwarming Christmas, doesn’t know what’s going to be behind the next door when she returns to Christmas Town in time for the winter holidays. It has been a long season of losses, beginning with her husband’s death and ending with her mother’s. She’s “fifty-few” and too many of those years have been spent as a caregiver. She doesn’t know what’s next, but she does know it’s time for her to take care of herself first.

The first person she sees is Eli Welcome. Retired pastor—though not so retired as he thought—and mystery-writer. He gives her a job, he makes her laugh, they dance together in the kitchen. But he has a bad heart and needs surgery on his hand.

            Oh, boy.
***
This holiday season, warm your heart with 12 connected sweet holiday romances from 12 Harlequin Heartwarming authors who are USA Today, national bestselling, and award-winning authors. This collection of PG-rated holiday romances are all set in Christmas Town, a location introduced in the 2014 Harlequin Heartwarming release Christmas, Actually. A Heartwarming Christmas will bring you laughter, tears, and happily-ever-afters (no cliffhangers), for more than 1200 pages. Foreword by small town lover and New York Times bestseller Kristan Higgins.

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1TDjGEK
iTunes: http://apple.co/1OkXsV9
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1CEnSA7
Google Play: http://bit.ly/1J0Qg08
B&N: http://bit.ly/1LaVnNT 
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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:


Saturday, January 24, 2015

The Magic of Beginnings by Liz Flaherty

Roses and Readers, please join me in welcoming Liz Flaherty to the blog today.



And suddenly you know: It's time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings. ~ Meister Eckhart

          This explains why, although I have only nine-going-on-ten published books and just a few old and forever-unsold manuscripts, I have a virtual drawerful of Chapter One through Chapter Threes. Some of them, it must be said, I regret not finishing—Molly Linden’s story still wakes me in the middle of the night occasionally with an insomnia-inducing “what if you did this instead of that?” mantra.
          Most of those beginnings, though, shouldn’t really have happened. They are what I did when I got to Chapter Six or Chapter Eight of the work in progress and...oh, crap, it wouldn’t go anywhere. It is the occasional plight of a pantser, when the whole flying by the seat of said pants runs out of gas and you’re grounded because you have no conflict. Your hero lacks oomph. You have no black moment—not even a dove gray one that will darken the horizon before, voila, the sun of the happily ever after starts struggling up over the land line.
          A reason I’m here—aside from the fact that I really love writing blog posts and Brenda said I could come and take her day—is that my editor just called the other day and offered a contract for my next book in the Harlequin Heartwarming line. I spent the afternoon zipping around like one of those battery bunnies, meeting my husband at the door with “guess what!” and planning (several times) how I would spend my advance. This was my behavior on the first sale—why should the 10th be any different?
          I don’t have a release date yet, and goodness knows my title of The Winter of Letting Go, probably won’t stick, but the word “contract” gives instant birth to the word “promotion.” So, by all means, remember I have a book coming out...er...sometime with the title of...er...something, and I hope you enjoy it a lot. Oh, and here’s my whole backlist at a glance: http://ow.ly/Hqpd3
          Okay, commercial’s over—back to beginnings. The book I just sold was shockingly difficult to write. It took ten months or so, not a really long time for me, but it seemed longer. Because I had trouble with those things I listed up there: the conflict, the oomph, the black moment. Because one time I closed the file and mentally consigned it to that drawer of beginnings. Well, not exactly one time—it was more like a dozen times.
          But every morning, I opened the file again. And there is a lesson in this. Not for everyone, but definitely for me.
          Beginnings, as the starting quote of this post says, are magic. When it is the right time. When the reason for the beginning is that yesterday or the day before or last Friday at midnight, there was a finishing. When I only begin a new story because writing the old one has defeated me, there is no magic in that, only desperation and more than a hint of self-pity.
          Maybe it is time to empty that drawer (except maybe for Molly Linden’s story—I so like her) and just start a new story when the last one is finished. When the time is right and the beginning really is magic.
          Thanks for having me here today. I wish you all magic beginnings and happy endings!


Retired from the post office, Liz Flaherty spends non-writing time sewing, quilting, and doing whatever else she wants to. She and Duane live in the old farmhouse in Indiana they moved to in 1977. They’ve talked about moving, but really…30-some years’ worth of stuff? It’s not happening!
She’d love to hear from you at lizkflaherty@gmail.com or please come and see her at:

 

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Guest Liz Flaherty Chats About her Writing Process

Liz Flaherty
When my friend Kristina Knight interviews for her blog, her first question is “Do you have (or do you aspire to have!) a writing process?” It made me feel so unintelligent to be stumped right out of the interview gate, but stumped I was. I’ve been writing most of my life, for heaven’s sake, so what is my process? On Kristi’s blog, I mumbled something about not having one but wishing I did, and then, of course, I couldn’t get the question out of my mind. It seemed to go right along with being—or getting—organized.

Process…okay, it’s a series of natural occurrences. That’s a definition I can live with.

·         1980s. I had these nifty coil-bound notebooks with lined yellow paper in them. I filled I don’t know how many of them before I could no longer find them and resorted to white college-rule paper. I sat in my chair in the living room and wrote while my family watched TV and made noise around me. I completed my first manuscripts that way, typing them later on the electric typewriter at the kitchen table.

·         Later. The first Tandy computer entered the house. It sat on a little desk in the smallest bedroom in the house, sharing space with the ironing board and…I don’t remember what else, but it was a mess. There was a chair in one corner, and sometimes my husband or one of the kids came in and talk to me while I wrote. Other times, I interrupted the writing flow to iron whatever a kid wanted to wear on a date.

·         1990s. Everyone left home! Except my husband, that is. I had to learn to write in a quiet room without an ironing board. It was…different. And difficult. I thought my voice had been suffocated by the silence. But then I sold my first book. Always Annie came out in 1999. I bought a new computer.

·         Later. I sold another book and a couple of more. Every time I sold a book, my computer died and I had to buy a new one. I graduated to laptops and gave up the quiet room because…well, because I was lonely in there.

·         2011. I retired from my day job, which I’d loved but didn’t miss for one minute after I left it, something I have yet to understand. I thought I’d write all day, every day, but the truth is that I want to do everything I didn’t have time to do for the 40 years I worked.

So here I am. I work at the dining room table, less than 20 feet from the living room television. I get up two hours before my husband and sit in pre-dawn silence and drink tea and write. And revise. And think, “What if…” As soon as the TV comes on, my writing voice is silenced. Common sense tells me to go back to the quiet room—I am, after all, portable. But I don’t want to. I want to sew and spend time with the boyfriend (yeah, we’re very married, 40 years worth, but boyfriend sounds so…young, don’t you think?) and do all those things I never had time for.

That’s the process. It happened naturally and in a series. And it’s organized. Best of all, it works.

Thanks for coming by. I hope you have a splendid year. The latest in my organized series of occurrences is ONE MORE SUMMER, from Carina Press. It is truly the book of my heart. I hope it finds a home in yours.




I’d love to have you visit my website http://lizflaherty.com or http://wordwranglers.blogspot.com/ where I hang out with some of my best writer friends.