Ellie Lieberman's Blog: Dusty Shelves - Posts Tagged "barbara-lieberman"

First published on Acorn Tops blog:

If you are anything like me, you have done many pretend author interviews in the bathroom mirror since you were about eight. Yes, indeed, I am a pro of this type of Q&A. We’ll see if that carries over to my interview with Dot Cannon from Noelophile blog at the Mystic Dragon Book Festival on August 15th.

Throughout all of those pretend interviews, as well as the millions (no, I’m pretty sure this is not an exaggeration) of author interviews I have watched online thanks to youtube, and that one time I saw Diana Gabaldon live, one of the most commonly asked question is when did you become a writer? When did you start writing?

When is a very different question then the why (which most, I have found, answer much like Descartes- “I write, therefore I am”). Writing is a state of being, how we got to that state, though, is as diverse as the people who write.

For me, personally, it is something I have always been doing. I don’t mean this as a simple answer or a cop-out. It is the truth and I owe it to the most powerful inspiration in my life, my mother. Barbara Lieberman

I grew up to the sound of her fingers dancing across the keyboards, making new worlds to explore and new characters to meet and fall in love with. And those were some of my purely happy childhood memories. I still remember the first story she wrote. It was about a small acorn I found walking back from dropping my brother off at the bus stop.

We had a deal. She would let me stay up past my bedtime to get to listen to what more she wrote that day as long as I brushed her hair. And I learned a lot in those nights. I learned tricks for editing (reading aloud). I learned research and the lengths one could go and the different resources available. I learned spelling and grammar (and that even the best sometimes flub in that area). Most importantly, though, I learned the power of storytelling, the power of writing, the power of words. It ignited a spark.

I remember my countless sketchbooks filled with what most would call scribbles on the front, and on the back would be a corresponding very short story. My mom tells me on the way to ballet, I would tell stories from the moment the key in the ignition turned to the moment the car would park. I grew up writing and telling stories, and I owe much of that to my mother.

I was fortunate to not only grow up with a mom who was passionate about reading and who shared that passion with me, but to grow up at my mother’s keyboard as well as her bookshelves. And what is even more exciting, as I follow in her footsteps and publish my own stories, is getting to experience the stories and characters I grew up with being shared with the whole world, too. Mouse and Shadow; and Emma and John; and Ellie and Alex were my earliest and oldest friends and playmates. And to see them become a book I can hold and open and revisit any time, is indescribable.

So when did I become a writer? When did it all start? It started with the first word my mother typed.

Check out my mom’s blog/website: http://www.keyboardmusings.com/
Her Amazon page: http://www.amazon.com/Barbara-Lieberm...
Her Good Reads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...

Home and belonging is a common theme in my books. Whether it's the dragon from A Dragon's Treasure in A Horde of Dragons. or it's Math from Society's Foundlings wondering why what feels like home can't be where he rests his head at night.

For the dragon, belonging is a chain around his neck until a friend tells him, "There's a difference between being someone's treasure and being treasured by someone." For Math, home transforms from a brick-stepped, light-flickering sanctuary where no one can trespass to a hand that catches you when you fall.

Home, what it is and how we define it, changes as we do. It doesn't always look the same, but there are common elements. As Billy Joel sings, "Home is just another word for you." One constant is the people. Those you've known all your life who become more than just family, and communities, no matter how big or small, who become more than just friends. These Shadows, as I like to call them, like Shadow from The Treasure of Ravenwood. Those bosom friends and kindred spirits as Anne of Green Gables called it.

For Jenna from Solving for X it was the memories within the place or the person. The plaid blanket where she and Erik watched fireworks. It was the line of photos. For Erik, it was the smell of salt water and the old basketball courts.

Sometimes home is in the traditions. Mom's coffee in the mornings. Jenna's painting. Decorating for the holidays or Friday night dinners with the grandparents.

And, home can be a place. Where love abounds and there lies a type of safety one can only find in those four walls.

Home for me is a lot of things. It is paint and pencils, notebooks and sketchpads. It is an orange, furry hug. It is a steaming cup of tea.

It is laughter and kisses goodnight by a porch light and under stars. It is a hand on my knee, fingers that tickle mercilessly, and his hat that I wear like a crown.

It is smiles and shared dreams and a hand to hold and a hug I've known since birth. It is my mom. It is a Christmas tree decorated the day after the turkey is cooked. It's dancing and singing Ten Minutes Ago from Roger and Hammerstein's Cinderella. It's Chinese Food for Christmas. It's stories I now know by heart.

It's a neighbor who I count as family. A blessing in the form of fabulousness. Another Pheonix- I am so fortunate to be surrounded by so many!

My Fairy Godmother! Filled with as much wisdom as magic. Who could touch dust and turn it to gold. Whose sparkle always makes the day brighter.

It is a goddamn masterpiece. A modge podge worth of 21 years. Home is where I rest my head at night.

I think Sally Fingerette said it best, "Home is where the heart is. No matter how the heart lives. In your heart where love is, that's where you've got to make yourself a home."

What do you consider home?

Earnest Hemingway said “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
When I write, I truly write. There’s not only an investment in the characters and storylines. It is pouring heart and soul. It is knocking down the barriers of the everyday, exposing and vulnerable and naked on a blank page.

It is said that if there is no tears in the writer there will be no tears in the reader. From what I know of books like Chip Davis’s Angel’s Song in The Playlist Anthology and Barbara Lieberman’s To Miss The Stars (which comes packaged with tissues, by the way), there is truth in that saying.

Each week I revisit my manuscripts to participate in the local twitter event, 1lineWed, where writers share lines from their work based on a weekly theme. This week’s theme is Chaos and in Society's Foundlings, which was published two years ago, I came across this one line, “There’s a comfort in what you’re accustomed to. Chaos becomes its own sort of peace.” It amazed me how a simple line could still stir those same feelings in me as when I first picked up the pencil to write them.

2015 was a chaotic year, if not for external reasons, then for internal. In the years following the outward became its own sort of chaos. Now, I am in a much better place in both ways.

We have terms we use in my family for PTSD moments. Those little triggers that send you back to moments your body can’t seem to forget no matter how much your mind wants to. Those responses so ingrained in the brain, your breath catches, your heart seizes, the pain from that moment mere months or years ago is just as fresh and present now as it was then. But, revisiting this honest and sometimes brutal text that I created is different.

It’s as bittersweet as the story itself. I’m better. My world is better. The characters will forever remain frozen in that moment, in those conflicts, though. I have moved on and in a way, while there is hope on that final page, it is a final page. It is a scar, that indelible reminder, but it’s the scars that let the light shine through.

Perhaps you've heard an author joke about their character's having a mind of their own. Anyone who is a writer knows there is a truth to this. They do what they want to do. We're merely there to write it.

Barbara Lieberman has mentioned many times how she tried to soften Bridget from To Reap a Whirlwind. Every time she would come close, this character would just dash any chance at redemption.

For me and my writing, it's even when the creations themselves are faced with the situations they are thrown into. That is to say, my books tend to have characters exercising free will more than being pushed into a fate.

They make decisions and these choices lead to consequences. The characters in Society's Foundlings feel abandoned by each other and society, not because it is fate, but because of their own choices, as well as the choices of those around them. Garrett makes a choice at the end of Solving for X, same as Jenna, and these decisions are made based on their experiences. In one of my WIPs, a character decides his own fate, as well, in a pivotal moment: "This, here, was the moment of truth. Before him laid two options, and while one stung, more from the man who suggested it than the suggestion itself, the other was one with which he could not live."

Though there may be literary techniques utilized, such as foreshadowing, whether purposeful or merely unintentional (and don't you just love when that happens?), the decision still remains solely in the hands of the characters. Think of it also as looking back on your own personal story. Was there not foreshadowing in your own life that you missed at the time, whether it be "hindsight is 20/20" or just weird coincidences?

My characters have always been a driving force in writing the story, but they have always been the "masters of their fate" within their stories, as well.