Liz Crowe's Blog
March 10, 2017
The Second Half
Greeting Liz cohort & whatnot.I'm here to share a bit of Major News with you.
A few weeks ago, I bit the bullet and hightailed it to my friendly, local gastroenterologist. What fun, Liz, you exclaim!Yes, exactly that. I was tired of hearing myself complain about near constant gut issues, both of the lower and upper regions (or rather, Mr. Wench was tired of it, ergo, I called on the collective pool of healthy people who also have BCBS Michigan to pay for it, and went to see a doctor).
I was of course, fully confident I'd iterate my symptoms and his kindly eyes would widen while he ordered me to the hospital STAT for all sorts of fun and expensive tests. I mean, I'd already diagnosed myself with the help of the Interwebs. I was surely dying.Au contraire.
He listened to my litany of woes, had me lie back while he poked around on my belly and I continued to mentally write my will and figure out how best to guilt my kids prior to my untimely death. He helped me sit up, pulled out a xeroxed sheet of paper and over the course of the next 40 minutes or so, gave me the sort of talking-to no medical person ever had. It involved no medication (he wants me off the one I take for heartburn if possible), and plenty of "homework."
One of the things I was to do was to go home and watch a Netflix documentary from 2011 called "Forks Over Knives." I did this, while drinking a positively disgusting concoction of 3-parts dark leafy greens, 1 part fresh berries and a cup of water in a blender--his one "prescription" for me and my death's-door woes.After that, I threw out every ounce of sugar in my kitchen, and got busy changing my lifestyle fairly drastically. Ever since then--approximately 2 weeks ago--I have not eaten a bite of meat of any sort, and have severely limited my dairy intake.
This is IN NO WAY MEANT TO MAKE YOU FEEL GUILTY OR ENCOURAGE YOU TO TRY ANYTHING I'VE TRIED. However, I will tell you that I've spent over 25 years of my life concocting dinners for people who would otherwise starve or overdose on pb&j and in all that time I've never felt more excited to create a weekly menu.I have a long way to go. But I wanted to share my 2-week baby step with my Lovely Liz Land-ers on this fine Friday when I will, indeed allow myself a few slurps of sugar in the form of fermented beverage by way of a reward.
As my patient, "no-you-are-not-dying-stop-reading-WebMD-please" belly doctor said, "You've spent 50 years getting into this (lack of) shape. Think about this as a re-set for the second half of your life."I'm slapping that on a stickie not and putting it on my dang forehead y'all, no lie.How serious am I about this?I have made 14 100% vegetarian/mostly vegan meals in the last 2 weeks and made 2 loaves of HOMEMADE whole wheat bread.
Kids, my rule of thumb for recipes used to be "if it's longer than a paragraph, I ain't got time for that."These recipes are pages long. But I made my own spaghetti sauce and fake cheese yesterday so I believe that necessitates a celebration.Carry one with your bad selves.
More about me later....LoveLiz
A few weeks ago, I bit the bullet and hightailed it to my friendly, local gastroenterologist. What fun, Liz, you exclaim!Yes, exactly that. I was tired of hearing myself complain about near constant gut issues, both of the lower and upper regions (or rather, Mr. Wench was tired of it, ergo, I called on the collective pool of healthy people who also have BCBS Michigan to pay for it, and went to see a doctor).I was of course, fully confident I'd iterate my symptoms and his kindly eyes would widen while he ordered me to the hospital STAT for all sorts of fun and expensive tests. I mean, I'd already diagnosed myself with the help of the Interwebs. I was surely dying.Au contraire.He listened to my litany of woes, had me lie back while he poked around on my belly and I continued to mentally write my will and figure out how best to guilt my kids prior to my untimely death. He helped me sit up, pulled out a xeroxed sheet of paper and over the course of the next 40 minutes or so, gave me the sort of talking-to no medical person ever had. It involved no medication (he wants me off the one I take for heartburn if possible), and plenty of "homework."One of the things I was to do was to go home and watch a Netflix documentary from 2011 called "Forks Over Knives." I did this, while drinking a positively disgusting concoction of 3-parts dark leafy greens, 1 part fresh berries and a cup of water in a blender--his one "prescription" for me and my death's-door woes.After that, I threw out every ounce of sugar in my kitchen, and got busy changing my lifestyle fairly drastically. Ever since then--approximately 2 weeks ago--I have not eaten a bite of meat of any sort, and have severely limited my dairy intake.This is IN NO WAY MEANT TO MAKE YOU FEEL GUILTY OR ENCOURAGE YOU TO TRY ANYTHING I'VE TRIED. However, I will tell you that I've spent over 25 years of my life concocting dinners for people who would otherwise starve or overdose on pb&j and in all that time I've never felt more excited to create a weekly menu.I have a long way to go. But I wanted to share my 2-week baby step with my Lovely Liz Land-ers on this fine Friday when I will, indeed allow myself a few slurps of sugar in the form of fermented beverage by way of a reward.As my patient, "no-you-are-not-dying-stop-reading-WebMD-please" belly doctor said, "You've spent 50 years getting into this (lack of) shape. Think about this as a re-set for the second half of your life."I'm slapping that on a stickie not and putting it on my dang forehead y'all, no lie.How serious am I about this?I have made 14 100% vegetarian/mostly vegan meals in the last 2 weeks and made 2 loaves of HOMEMADE whole wheat bread.Kids, my rule of thumb for recipes used to be "if it's longer than a paragraph, I ain't got time for that."These recipes are pages long. But I made my own spaghetti sauce and fake cheese yesterday so I believe that necessitates a celebration.Carry one with your bad selves.More about me later....LoveLiz
February 28, 2017
Dead Lawyers Don't Lie
A review...But first....the details:GENRE: Thriller~~~~~~~~~~~~~BLURB:The killer aimed his weapon at the pregnant lawyer's rounded belly. He said "Bye-bye baby," and pulled the trigger. War veteran Jake Wolfe and his former military dog are targeted next. They must stop the assassin, or die trying. An action-packed thriller from beginning to end. Dead Lawyers Don’t Lie has been a #1 bestseller in Pulp Thrillers, and among the most popular books in Kindle Unlimited All-Stars.~~~~~~~~~~~~~Excerpt:On the morning before attorney Richard Caxton was shot, he spent an hour in court doing what he did best—lying to the jury.Caxton’s client was the wealthy son of a mortgage banker. Brice Riabraun had “allegedly” been driving under the influence of alcohol when he’d crashed his luxury SUV into the Tate family’s economy car. In court, Caxton claimed that the police had mishandled the case.In Caxton’s successful cases he often found a loophole in the law, or a small procedural error by the police, or a semi-believable alibi that would hold up just long enough to bamboozle a jury. Caxton exploited these opportunities with the smooth talking technique of a used car salesman. Other attorneys in the city marveled at the creatively dishonest con man. He was a natural born liar. They were envious of him.After arguing relentlessly for his version of the truth, Caxton now listened to the Honorable Judge Emerson pronounce his client not guilty.Judge Emerson frowned after he read the verdict. Caxton had to make an effort not to laugh.Brian Tate stood up and raised his voice as he spoke to the jury. “How could you find that criminal innocent when the police report said he was driving with a .15 blood alcohol concentration? Witnesses said that he drank seven beers before he crashed into our car and almost killed my wife and kids!”Tate’s wife Judy sat next to him with her arm in a plaster cast. The twelve jurors seated in the jury box didn’t reply to Tate, or meet his eyes. Tate turned and stared at Caxton and his client with the fury of someone who has been cheated out of justice.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:Mark Nolan began his writing career as a successful entrepreneur who created news stories for businesses that were featured in The Wall Street Journal, National Geographic, Parade, Reader's Digest and The Associated Press. Nolan was born in San Francisco, grew up in the Bay Area of California, and has also lived in the Pacific Northwest and Hawaii. He has raised two great kids and one very smart retriever dog. Right now he's busy writing the next book about Jake Wolfe (Book 2), but he also tries to make time every day to answer emails from readers. You can reach him at marknolan.com/contactGoodreadshttps:/... now, the Liz Review:Dead Lawyers Don't Lie is an Amazon best-seller that has a kick butt title and starts off strong. The main character, Jake Wolfe is intriguing as the hero, and the premise's hook reels you in. I consider myself a cross-genre reader and tightly constructed thrillers always appeal to me.This book is a bit heavy on the details and dialogue and drags in the middle a bit because of it. Obviously you need both details and dialogue in a thriller but the length of some of the passages did make me skip several pages at a time. The plot and some characters will require you to suspend your disbelief at several points, and the romance that is introduced was stilted (but I say the same thing about every Jack Reacher romance attempt).Ultimately, I'd recommend this novel if you enjoy the thriller formula but it is long, and many times overly detailed. Not that long books are bad--I prefer them actually, as it shows an author's ability to build a world and hold my interest. But I found myself skipping too many passages and still managing to get out of the plot what I needed to get.A 3-Pint read!
Enter here for a shot at a $10 gift card from the author:
February 22, 2017
Milo & Schtick
You know, there was a moment during last Friday night's "interview" with Milo I-Hate-Myself-Opolis on Real Time with Bill Maher that struck me--and it was not all the times Bill seemed to surprise himself by agreeing with the little darling. I have no doubt that Mr. Maher's views are complex and, while I don't agree with them all, find myself relating to him more and more since the recent presidential election. And, oddly, if anything, I'm learning how to be more, not less accepting that everyone is wholly entitled to their...ah....opinion.
No, it wasn't their mutual love-fest over "annoying liberals" and what not--it was the moment that I realized something: Milo is a flaming homosexual who looked distinctly feminine and wore a sort Bar Bush caricature of pearls and so many pretty bangles his arm must have weighed twenty pounds. And that was news to me. I guess I had thus far successfully not given a flying eff-word about the guy. I had no idea and imagine my shock when the first words out of his pretty mouth were: "Oh I never hire gays. You can't trust them to ever be on time."As an author, I've learned a little bit about the concept of a "troll." I've been trolled--by so-called reviewers and bloggers and readers with agendas and while it was easily one of the most painful, professional incidents I've ever endured, it also went a long way towards teaching me a lesson about life--relative to its "fairness."
These folks never once contacted me directly, to engage with me on a level anywhere above about 6th grade but they had zero qualms trashing me, my book(s), and my innocent efforts to market them online, to their friends and followers. This is how an internet troll works, you see, and that "fairness" lesson was well-learned (oh, it's the one about how our universe owes each of us exactly zero and how we cope/deal with that is a measure of our relative maturity and future success).But I also learned a bit about the "wait ten minutes" principle.That's the one that so-called radio "shock-jocks" live by. They piss people off daily because for the most part, they don't mean it, and are doing it for shock value and/or potential salary raises based on their social networking reach. It sells. Like sex, kinda, only meaner and less fun.So when Mr. Cheekbones a.k.a. Milo went into his initial rant over Leslie Jones, I firmly believe that we fed his sorry fire ourselves with our Outrage and our Disbelief and our Abject Horror. He was precisely a nobody (unless, I guess you were one of the female journalists he helped threaten during gamer-gate but I digress. One Outrage at a time...). When Bill Maher ushered him into the relative light of legitimacy with that so-called interview and subsequent (& right glorious) Overtime session, he started to Become Someone.
Alas, because of that outing, so to speak, his uglier tendencies (and the sad fact that he thanked his molester-priest for giving him his stellar blow job skills---I am NOT making this up, I swear it) emerged and now, we can all go back to pretending he never existed. I, for one, am super stoked to get back to my Milo-Who-Cares frame of mind. Because trolls require constant care and feeding in order for them to feel legit. Take that away (via our collective attention) and they shrivel under the weight of their own deflated egos.But I will say one other thing occurred during that interview that truly epitomizes our strange new world order. When he said "I don't hire gays, they're never on time," and then immediately followed that up with "but women are worse" or something along those lines which elicited a boo-hiss from Bill's audience, his response is EXACTLY what is wrong with the free speech argument that's been hijacked by hateful people. He said "Oh, don't be so sensitive" and rolled his overly smudgy eyes.Let's extrapolate that for a hot second. You are walking down the street, minding your own business, pondering what's for dinner or how your day at work went, or just how nice it is outside and some person walks up to you, points their finger at your nose and says "You are ugly, stupid and worthless and don't deserve to live."You are shocked. The last thing you did that might be considered moderately not nice was to "forget" to scan a bunch of bananas at the self-check out. But you are willing to give the person the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he is off his meds, or has you confused with his ex-wife. "Excuse me?" you say.
And the person sneers at you, and tells you your breath stinks, your taste in clothing is worse than his grandmas and that you should get your sorry fat ass to the gym and then back in the kitchen where you can be of service to your husband in the way God intended it."Hold up," you say. "I'm not even married.""No wonder," this stranger continues. "You're fat and probably read romance novels for fun.""All right, that's enough. You don't even know me. You have no right to say..."At which point this person rolls his eyes, flaps a hand and says in aside to someone, "Gosh, don't be so sensitive. Get over yourself. You're all the same."What about this is "ok?" Why would anyone condone such strange, hateful behavior? Making a comment that is meant to provoke (oh women are never on time anyway) and then mocking those who are provoked is the laziest form of being "a personality." It's being a jerk.Hate speech is not free. It costs you, me and everything that we stand for as a mature, civil society of adults. I try to engage face-to-face and if I don't have something nice to say I bloody well don't say anything. Which is why this seeming acceptance (by a New York publisher, a huge political action committee, and others) of such obvious disregard for basic human politeness --and why it took blatant support of pedophilia (and to be clear "just about boys" which is yet another bloggy rant) to make them understand his troll-ishness for what it was---is so completely depressing.Be nice, people. You don't have to agree on everything--or even on anything, but the cost of hate is high and not worth the price of admission.Happy Hump Day.Cheers,LizP.S. What his "troll-ishness really is?" A sad cry for attention. Deny it and he goes away. Just watch.
P.P.S. #forgetMiloP.P.S. What he said (it rhymes with "Lo Tuck Pourself")
P.P.P.S. This guy didn't say this to give you an excuse to be an asshole. Sorry. Think first. Then talk.
Becuase that's
No, it wasn't their mutual love-fest over "annoying liberals" and what not--it was the moment that I realized something: Milo is a flaming homosexual who looked distinctly feminine and wore a sort Bar Bush caricature of pearls and so many pretty bangles his arm must have weighed twenty pounds. And that was news to me. I guess I had thus far successfully not given a flying eff-word about the guy. I had no idea and imagine my shock when the first words out of his pretty mouth were: "Oh I never hire gays. You can't trust them to ever be on time."As an author, I've learned a little bit about the concept of a "troll." I've been trolled--by so-called reviewers and bloggers and readers with agendas and while it was easily one of the most painful, professional incidents I've ever endured, it also went a long way towards teaching me a lesson about life--relative to its "fairness."These folks never once contacted me directly, to engage with me on a level anywhere above about 6th grade but they had zero qualms trashing me, my book(s), and my innocent efforts to market them online, to their friends and followers. This is how an internet troll works, you see, and that "fairness" lesson was well-learned (oh, it's the one about how our universe owes each of us exactly zero and how we cope/deal with that is a measure of our relative maturity and future success).But I also learned a bit about the "wait ten minutes" principle.That's the one that so-called radio "shock-jocks" live by. They piss people off daily because for the most part, they don't mean it, and are doing it for shock value and/or potential salary raises based on their social networking reach. It sells. Like sex, kinda, only meaner and less fun.So when Mr. Cheekbones a.k.a. Milo went into his initial rant over Leslie Jones, I firmly believe that we fed his sorry fire ourselves with our Outrage and our Disbelief and our Abject Horror. He was precisely a nobody (unless, I guess you were one of the female journalists he helped threaten during gamer-gate but I digress. One Outrage at a time...). When Bill Maher ushered him into the relative light of legitimacy with that so-called interview and subsequent (& right glorious) Overtime session, he started to Become Someone.Alas, because of that outing, so to speak, his uglier tendencies (and the sad fact that he thanked his molester-priest for giving him his stellar blow job skills---I am NOT making this up, I swear it) emerged and now, we can all go back to pretending he never existed. I, for one, am super stoked to get back to my Milo-Who-Cares frame of mind. Because trolls require constant care and feeding in order for them to feel legit. Take that away (via our collective attention) and they shrivel under the weight of their own deflated egos.But I will say one other thing occurred during that interview that truly epitomizes our strange new world order. When he said "I don't hire gays, they're never on time," and then immediately followed that up with "but women are worse" or something along those lines which elicited a boo-hiss from Bill's audience, his response is EXACTLY what is wrong with the free speech argument that's been hijacked by hateful people. He said "Oh, don't be so sensitive" and rolled his overly smudgy eyes.Let's extrapolate that for a hot second. You are walking down the street, minding your own business, pondering what's for dinner or how your day at work went, or just how nice it is outside and some person walks up to you, points their finger at your nose and says "You are ugly, stupid and worthless and don't deserve to live."You are shocked. The last thing you did that might be considered moderately not nice was to "forget" to scan a bunch of bananas at the self-check out. But you are willing to give the person the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he is off his meds, or has you confused with his ex-wife. "Excuse me?" you say.And the person sneers at you, and tells you your breath stinks, your taste in clothing is worse than his grandmas and that you should get your sorry fat ass to the gym and then back in the kitchen where you can be of service to your husband in the way God intended it."Hold up," you say. "I'm not even married.""No wonder," this stranger continues. "You're fat and probably read romance novels for fun.""All right, that's enough. You don't even know me. You have no right to say..."At which point this person rolls his eyes, flaps a hand and says in aside to someone, "Gosh, don't be so sensitive. Get over yourself. You're all the same."What about this is "ok?" Why would anyone condone such strange, hateful behavior? Making a comment that is meant to provoke (oh women are never on time anyway) and then mocking those who are provoked is the laziest form of being "a personality." It's being a jerk.Hate speech is not free. It costs you, me and everything that we stand for as a mature, civil society of adults. I try to engage face-to-face and if I don't have something nice to say I bloody well don't say anything. Which is why this seeming acceptance (by a New York publisher, a huge political action committee, and others) of such obvious disregard for basic human politeness --and why it took blatant support of pedophilia (and to be clear "just about boys" which is yet another bloggy rant) to make them understand his troll-ishness for what it was---is so completely depressing.Be nice, people. You don't have to agree on everything--or even on anything, but the cost of hate is high and not worth the price of admission.Happy Hump Day.Cheers,LizP.S. What his "troll-ishness really is?" A sad cry for attention. Deny it and he goes away. Just watch.P.P.S. #forgetMiloP.P.S. What he said (it rhymes with "Lo Tuck Pourself")P.P.P.S. This guy didn't say this to give you an excuse to be an asshole. Sorry. Think first. Then talk.Becuase that's
February 14, 2017
One...Two...Three...
Today is book release day for me.
It's a re-worked novel with a brand new publisher and a new series starter and I am pretty stoked, as you might imagine.One reader at a time!But I want to use my bloggy platform to address the core "trope" of this particular book: The "menage romance."I have written a few of these and every time I do, I feel like I should post a caveat: "Pure Fantasy. Do not try this at home." Not because it can't be managed physically. It can. What I mean is (and try to include as an element in my books and most especially this one) is the emotional element.TAPPED is what we in the biz call "M/F/M menage" which simply means that the F (the lucky lady) is between the "M's". The men are not bisexual and so do not touch each other or whatever during The Act. This created its own sub plot, of course. Not many actual men would be into "sharing" a woman they felt strongly about... and trust me when I tell you that Austin Fitzgerald feels "strongly" about Evelyn Benedict.But it was a function of the strength of their relationship that allowed for the "third"... Ross Hoffman, who was Austin's buddy from their time in Munich at a (fictional) Brewing Institute). However...things get a tad dicey when Ross admits to himself that he has fallen for Evelyn just as hard as Austin already did.Awkward.What I did in this book is take that natural, realistic awkwardness that 99.999% of men would feel about sharing "their woman" and turning it into a reason to delve deeper into Ross's psyche. Why, for example, does he never get attached to the many (and I do mean many) women he's bedded? Why Evelyn? Why now?What this did is lead me to a second book: LightStruck which is Ross's follow-up story in the messy aftermath of the realistic dissolution of their sexy threesome. I hope to have an announcement about its release soon!IN the meantime...enjoy TAPPED. It's smoking...hot...stuff...
Get your copy here:Amazon US:http://amzn.to/2keN738Amazon UK:http://amzn.to/2kRRSlkB&N:http://bit.ly/2lynDiyKobo:http://bit.ly/2lA0ZXOiTunes:http://apple.co/2kBYYvuTotally Bound:http://bit.ly/2kvzEF5Love & stuff,Liz
It's a re-worked novel with a brand new publisher and a new series starter and I am pretty stoked, as you might imagine.One reader at a time!But I want to use my bloggy platform to address the core "trope" of this particular book: The "menage romance."I have written a few of these and every time I do, I feel like I should post a caveat: "Pure Fantasy. Do not try this at home." Not because it can't be managed physically. It can. What I mean is (and try to include as an element in my books and most especially this one) is the emotional element.TAPPED is what we in the biz call "M/F/M menage" which simply means that the F (the lucky lady) is between the "M's". The men are not bisexual and so do not touch each other or whatever during The Act. This created its own sub plot, of course. Not many actual men would be into "sharing" a woman they felt strongly about... and trust me when I tell you that Austin Fitzgerald feels "strongly" about Evelyn Benedict.But it was a function of the strength of their relationship that allowed for the "third"... Ross Hoffman, who was Austin's buddy from their time in Munich at a (fictional) Brewing Institute). However...things get a tad dicey when Ross admits to himself that he has fallen for Evelyn just as hard as Austin already did.Awkward.What I did in this book is take that natural, realistic awkwardness that 99.999% of men would feel about sharing "their woman" and turning it into a reason to delve deeper into Ross's psyche. Why, for example, does he never get attached to the many (and I do mean many) women he's bedded? Why Evelyn? Why now?What this did is lead me to a second book: LightStruck which is Ross's follow-up story in the messy aftermath of the realistic dissolution of their sexy threesome. I hope to have an announcement about its release soon!IN the meantime...enjoy TAPPED. It's smoking...hot...stuff...Get your copy here:Amazon US:http://amzn.to/2keN738Amazon UK:http://amzn.to/2kRRSlkB&N:http://bit.ly/2lynDiyKobo:http://bit.ly/2lA0ZXOiTunes:http://apple.co/2kBYYvuTotally Bound:http://bit.ly/2kvzEF5Love & stuff,Liz
February 9, 2017
Is It Any Wonder
I get this question from bloggers and readers a lot:Liz, tell us about your "process." (mental finger hooks around the word)To which I usually answer, "Welp, I don't have one really. I get an idea, or am given one by the Plot Bunny Overlords.
I open a fresh Word doc (nope, don't use Scrivner), crack my knuckles, and get to work. I don't outline or storyboard, or make a playlist or find pictures of my characters to inspire me. I just write."And as I sit here on Thursday evening 2/9/17, peering around the corner at my first release day with a new publisher (Totally Bound) for a new book (TAPPED) to start a new series (Brewing Passion), I did exactly that, twice, since ripping off the calendar page to reveal a shiny new year.I did this for a few reasons, not the last of which is that sticking my nose in a new book of my own creation allows me to (mostly) ignore the news. But I also did it because I've made a decision. (cue the triumphant music).I have decided to not give a rip anymore.Now, don't get me wrong. I am still working toward my ultimate goals: go-getter representation and a contract with a New York publisher. I don't plan to stop self-publishing. I'm very proud of The Love Brothers series and have plans to add to it this year. But those words up there? Those are my goals and I do a little something every other day (if not every day) to get a bit closer to them.I also plan to work my cute little tail off the make this Brewing passion series with my shiny new publisher a kick ass success. So far, Totally Bound has been a dream to work with--total professionals from acquisitions and contracts to editing and promotions. I've been around and seen a few things in this biz and (so far) am 100% happy with this publisher.But I also know that as an author these days, pre-representation and said big contract, I have to remain nimble, eager to try new things (have you read any of myKindle World novellasyet?), and aware of the importance of expanding my platform. Gotta look out for #1 and all that.But....still...every day there are more and more and more (and more) books to choose from. More authors demanding attention and taking up mental and physical bookshelf space. And trying to measure myself against everyone else is wearing me the heck out.Hence...I no longer give a rip.I will, instead, write. And I will revel in the writing. The glorious agony of the creative process!And agonizing it is. I just finished two, full-length novels. Two of 'em! And both were, while not exactly as angsty as some Liz books, certainly strenuous to write.Both are now in the hot hands of my editor. And I literally just sat at my kitchen table and had a massive crying jag--the loud kind, the kind where the dogs come running, convinced we've lost a family member or something. Whew. Talk about cathartic.Being "a creative" is a bitch some days.
But I have:Another Kindle World novella to craft...Three Love Brothers novellas to write, get edited, covered and promoted...and more queries to send.I'll pour a glass of Thursday night red wine, keep ignoring the news (including the ones about a movie that I hope won't ruin my book release but might), open up a fresh Word doc...and write.
Hang in, scribblers. We're all in this together.If you're of a mind, leave me a comment with how you cope post-massive-creative-output marathon.Love ya,L
I open a fresh Word doc (nope, don't use Scrivner), crack my knuckles, and get to work. I don't outline or storyboard, or make a playlist or find pictures of my characters to inspire me. I just write."And as I sit here on Thursday evening 2/9/17, peering around the corner at my first release day with a new publisher (Totally Bound) for a new book (TAPPED) to start a new series (Brewing Passion), I did exactly that, twice, since ripping off the calendar page to reveal a shiny new year.I did this for a few reasons, not the last of which is that sticking my nose in a new book of my own creation allows me to (mostly) ignore the news. But I also did it because I've made a decision. (cue the triumphant music).I have decided to not give a rip anymore.Now, don't get me wrong. I am still working toward my ultimate goals: go-getter representation and a contract with a New York publisher. I don't plan to stop self-publishing. I'm very proud of The Love Brothers series and have plans to add to it this year. But those words up there? Those are my goals and I do a little something every other day (if not every day) to get a bit closer to them.I also plan to work my cute little tail off the make this Brewing passion series with my shiny new publisher a kick ass success. So far, Totally Bound has been a dream to work with--total professionals from acquisitions and contracts to editing and promotions. I've been around and seen a few things in this biz and (so far) am 100% happy with this publisher.But I also know that as an author these days, pre-representation and said big contract, I have to remain nimble, eager to try new things (have you read any of myKindle World novellasyet?), and aware of the importance of expanding my platform. Gotta look out for #1 and all that.But....still...every day there are more and more and more (and more) books to choose from. More authors demanding attention and taking up mental and physical bookshelf space. And trying to measure myself against everyone else is wearing me the heck out.Hence...I no longer give a rip.I will, instead, write. And I will revel in the writing. The glorious agony of the creative process!And agonizing it is. I just finished two, full-length novels. Two of 'em! And both were, while not exactly as angsty as some Liz books, certainly strenuous to write.Both are now in the hot hands of my editor. And I literally just sat at my kitchen table and had a massive crying jag--the loud kind, the kind where the dogs come running, convinced we've lost a family member or something. Whew. Talk about cathartic.Being "a creative" is a bitch some days.But I have:Another Kindle World novella to craft...Three Love Brothers novellas to write, get edited, covered and promoted...and more queries to send.I'll pour a glass of Thursday night red wine, keep ignoring the news (including the ones about a movie that I hope won't ruin my book release but might), open up a fresh Word doc...and write.Hang in, scribblers. We're all in this together.If you're of a mind, leave me a comment with how you cope post-massive-creative-output marathon.Love ya,L
April 6, 2016
Chick Lit: Liz Style!
Welcome to my chick-lit project LADY BALLS! LeeAnn is a loser. At least in her own eyes. A fledgling soccer career destroyed by a knee injury. A boyfriend who preferred her roommate. A job slinging beer wearing short shorts that barely pays the bills. But a chance encounter at the bar one night will change everything. Follow along with my latest serialized novel: Lady Balls--hard core chick lit. Think "Sex in the City" but more "Trainwreck" style! Please note: This serial novel contains mature
February 26, 2016
Hill House: A Liz Review
Hill House by Blair Howard ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ GENRE: Mystery ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ BLURB: For more than ten years, she lay beneath the floorboards of Hill House. For more than ten years, she waited. Who was she? Who put her there? Why? Harry Starke vows to find the answers to those questions, but to do so he must embark upon an investigation that will put him and those close to him in deadly danger, take him deep into the underground city, the Dark Web, murder, organized crime, prostitution,
February 15, 2016
True Love
I really loved my self publishing adventure last year. The Love Brothers, Mama and Daddy Love, Angelique and all the new in-laws and children have become such a part of me, I am loathe to give them up. But I am in a tough spot. I am hearing more and more from readers that they really want the “next story.” True Love: Life Goes On was planned. But real life has intervened and I am afraid that I can’t write and publish it the way I want—with professional editing and proofreading, a beautiful
February 1, 2016
Simmer and Smoke: A Liz Review
Simmer and Smoke: A Southern Tale of Grit and Spice by Peggy Lampman ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ GENRE: women's contemporary fiction CLICK HERE TO ENTER to win a $50 Gift card from either Amazon or B&N from the author! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ BLURB: A single mother who dreams of becoming a chef. A food writer who just lost the love of her life. Two women discover what's worth fighting for in this deliciously rendered novel that illuminates the power of food, love, friendship and family on the human heart
January 26, 2016
The Best Things In Life...
.....Are FREE! I have 3 free book options for you because my new resolution contains firm decisions about WHY I'm writing. It's less for glory, more for my own creative need. What does that mean for YOU? FREE BOOKS GALORE! LOVE GARAGE The criticially acclaimed book 1 of the LOVE BROTHERS series is free for a few more days! Ibooks Amazon B&N Smashwords ******************************************** PLUS..... 2 of my favorite Real Estate Style Romances are FREE too!
