The Things of Fascination by Liz Flaherty

I'm sitting here before the sun is completely up watching the skeletal cottonwood tree against the western sky. That's beauty enough--I love trees in any incarnation--but squirrels are running up and down the the heavy branches, leaping across the expanse between the widespread of the Y-forked trunk. I'm not sure how long I've been watching them, but I am wholly fascinated. 

The Christmas tree sits where it has sat for years. The lovely flocked pre-lit tree has some lights that don't come on anymore, some holes in the branches that are hard to fill, and ornaments unevenly distributed throughout. I turn its lights on first thing each morning and off last thing each night. I watch it and remember, because Christmas memories are especially poignant, especially bright and glittery like the silver garland and the glass ornaments on the tree. I am endlessly fascinated.

I love churches. I mean, I go to church, I am a Christian, and I'm not one of those who believes your devotion to the Lord depends on whether you enter a house of worship every week or whenever, but I love the buildings. Not just the United Methodist ones where I feel immediately at home, but other denominations as well. I love the architecture and the changes in it from one century to another and yet another. I am ever fascinated by the differences in churches and denominations, comforted by the likenesses.

I'm not a bird-watcher, not really, but sitting in my daughter-in-law and son's home in North Carolina watching the birds from their mountain-view deck holds me in thrall. The blue jays almost glow as they swoop across the valley below, then skid to a stop on the bird feeder platform to have a peanut or two.

My husband is a singer who plays guitar, so music has been part of our married life from its beginning. Our kids were in choir at school and several of the grands played instruments in band. One of our grandsons plays trumpet. He played "Amazing Grace" as a solo at his grandmother's funeral so beautifully that listening to it was almost unbearable in its poignancy. We are watching the Get Back documentary as I write this and I am drawn in as I was in the 1960s. I am not musical--playing the radio is a challenge--but my fascination with music is even greater than my love for it.

As a writer, I often share and write about things I love. People I love. Even turns of phrase. But these are the things that feed passion in different ways. They are enriching and joyous and accompany me on paths where I might otherwise feel alone. 

What are your things of fascination? I'd love to hear what they are and why.

Merry Christmas!

Looking for a Christmas read? Join us in Christmas Town! 

Loud Voices and Moving On by Liz Flaherty

I am set in my ways. There, I've admitted it. Although I've had a few indie releases of my own and am a squee-worthy part of the Heartwarming authors' group who releases the Christmas Town stories every year, my preference is still traditional publishing. My real preference would be the way traditional used to be, when the publisher did the marketing and most of the promotion. 

Yes. I know there are down sides to trad publishing. Lots of them. I know it's not good for everyone. I know the rejections alone are so discouraging...

Well, there we are. That's my real problem right now. Rejections. I've written about them before, apologizing for my skin that is not only wrinkled but remains thin even after over 20 years of being published. But they've been pretty...common lately. 

I was never one who counted how many rejections I got (there were lots) or laughed about papering my bathroom with them (I could, and our bathroom is pretty big) or gave in to the urge to stop writing forever and ever. Although...let me interrupt myself with a story.

Back in the 90s, I was a member of Outreach, the RWA chapter for people who couldn't get to chapter meetings, and I enjoyed it a lot. I entered its contest with my first completed manuscript. And won. First place. Wowser! What a coup for my first time out of the contest gate. The prize was a critique by members of a RWA group from Canada. (Sorry--some details have escaped me.)

To make a long story short, I was so blistered by the critique that I didn't write a word for three months. I was more broken, writing-wise, than I was before or have been since. Much of the critique was accurate, objective, and appreciated. Much of it was also mean-spirited, subjective, and cruel. Guess which "much" had the loudest voice. 

Oh.

I kind of wondered what I was trying to say here, and I guess that's it. I am upset about recent rejections. I am bothered that I feel as if my age is held against me in this industry that I love. I do worry that I'm going to have to stop writing before I'm ready because I can't find either a publisher or a market. 

It sounds like I'm listening to the wrong voices, doesn't it? If those are the loud ones, I should turn them down and go on without them. It has nothing to do with whether I prefer indie or trad or hybrid or with my thin, wrinkled skin; rather it has to do with how I choose to proceed. At the end of the day, it's up to me.

Wishing you all a happy Thanksgiving and good voices. 

 

The Ripple Effect by Liz Flaherty

Hi, everybody. This is my introductory post to Smart Girls. I'm so happy to be here and so glad no one checked my qualifications before inviting me. I seem to have a lot of days lately where smart just doesn't happen. 

But I still read and write romance. I've segued into women's fiction quite a bit and have published two books of essays, but I've found I have trouble separating genres. To me, every story I write is a love story--including the essays. As a reader, if I can't find the love in a book, I generally won't finish it. If the ending isn't at least satisfying, I won't recommend the book. The happier the ending, the more loose ends tied up, the better. 

The other day, on Facebook, a romance author on my friends list referred to Hallmark movies as "insipid."

Really?

Does she have any writer friends whose books have appeared on Hallmark or other family channels in movie form? Did she tell them, "Hey, your stories are insipid?" Have her books been optioned? I know mine haven't, but I'd really, really love it if they were. 

One of my favorite parts of the romance community is how we've always supported each other on our chosen paths. Don't like erotic romance? Great--don't read it, but don't do social media monologues on what's wrong with it. Don't like inspirational? Same goes. 

But don't use words like insipid, because, you know, it's just not smart. What you say has a ripple effect, doesn't it? Derogatory words don't apply just to the channel or the story or the actress in the movie--they also end up including the people who write the stories and the ones who read them.

I'd rather say, "Wow, what a great cover!" If something's going to ripple, let it be positive. 

***

The Christmas Town writers are at it again, and Christmas Town Homecoming will be released tomorrow. Right now, it's 99 cents and in the middle of a book tour and giveaway. Join us on our release journey.

Thanks again for allowing me to join you. See you next month!