Liz Tyner - Liz's Latest

Marcus, Lord Grayson

9/14/2019

In my area, the peerage is as common as unicorns, hobbits, and Cujo. Except, on occasion it does seem an occasional Cujo might sneak in.

So, it would stand to reason that I would avoid writing about characters who are of the peerage. After all, there is that adage, write what you know.

But, I believe people are basically the same. As one of the female aristocratic types in one of my books said, "We put on our bejeweled slippers the same as anyone else."

The hero in It's Marriage or Ruin is Marcus, Lord Grayson.

Excerpt:

Lord Grayson remained perfectly still for several moments before he moved. He rearranged the hem of his sleeve and his eyes fell over Emilie, making the air she swallowed fill her with a fresh warmth. ‘We meet again.’

‘You knew I was out here,’ she said.

‘Whether I did or not, it doesn’t matter.’

Even in the darkness, Emilie could imagine him plainly. Nature had sculpted a visage which could have inspired Michelangelo to do better work.

Her hand wanted to caress, to run over the planes of his cheek so she could experience him with the feeling of touch as well as sight.

Inwardly, she berated her traitorous thoughts. She pulled herself from the momentary stupor, blaming it on her fascination with form.

How unfair that someone such as Lord Grayson, a man who said he liked frivolities, would have such a pleasing appearance. Her mother had been so wrong about which of Avondale’s sons had been graced with handsomeness.
The humour on his lips faded. ‘Miss Catesby, you are an accident waiting to happen.’

She tossed the words out. ‘Accidents do happen and I am not the cause of any of them.’

‘You cause things to happen on purpose.’

‘Occasionally.’

Miss Emilie Catesby

9/8/2019

When I saw my first book pop up on a website, I was thrilled. But it was so alone. Just one book. Now, my tenth one has been published.

When I'm writing, I can feel the characters' thoughts, but rarely imagine their faces. Then, when a cover arrives, I soon begin to see the characters as the exact image that is portrayed.

An excerpt from It's Marriage or Ruin that tells a bit about Emilie:

‘Miss Catesby. Stay away from my brother. He would ruin you.’

She touched the light wool of his waistcoat, letting her fingers flatten against him. Leaves rustled again as the wind touched them. The breeze strengthened, and the air tingled her cheeks. ‘I would say it’s not your concern.’

‘Miss Catesby. You’re an innocent.’ His fingers pressed into the fabric at her waist and he moved back a whisper.

She trailed her fingers up the waistcoat, touching the cravat, the edge of his jaw, the curve of his lips. She could have been touching a Michelangelo when she felt his face. This was something she’d never imagined before. Her heart pounded from the merest touch of his skin.

To feel a true masterpiece overwhelmed her. She dropped her hand and clenched it, keeping it at her side. She could hardly wait to capture in paint a masculine jawline. One with a hint of darkness in it. In shadows. Such a challenge. To put this image on canvas. A man in the shadows. Darkened features. She could never call it The Dark Angel. Her mother would destroy it. She would call it A Saint In Repose.

She could not calm her heartbeats, but inspiration came at the strangest moments, and one should relish them, hold them close, hug them to one’s heart.

But she could not touch him again. He was the forbidden fruit. The crevasse that could swallow the as-yet-unmade creations that were inside her and turn her into nothingness.

‘Art is my passion.’

His mouth parted. ‘You could have more than one passion, perhaps.’

‘I do. Oils, then watercolours.’

Art In the Beholder's Eye

9/7/2019

Reflections in flood waters reminded me of an impressionist's painting. So I took a few moments and a few pictures and tried to see them through an artist's eyes. Georgia 'O Keeffe loved her flower portraits.

Moss on rocks in the yard reminded me of daubs of paints.

The hideously ugly fungus that had popped up after the rain was the most photogenic.

An Acreage and A Tractor

8/24/2019

I don't drive a tractor, but they are handy on an acreage.

A farmer expects to tend hay and let the animals graze the pasture. But if you're not a farmer, and you have a pasture that's small and too secluded to rent to a farmer, you might need a tractor.

A few things I never expected about tractor ownership:
1. When brush hogging, a bit of material you've just cleared can puncture a tire, or perhaps even a radiator. And this can happen right after you the tractor has been returned from the shop.
2. When a tractor breaks down, it's never close to a shop. Never. It can break down at very inconvenient places. To hire someone to take your tractor to the shop becomes just a normal expense.
3. Brush may need cleared to get the wrecker to the tractor, and if a wrecker takes out a part of the fence...oops.
4. The tractor needs driven occasionally, even in the winter when there's almost nothing to use it for if you don't have livestock. Whether it's to keep the battery working, or to keep the motor seals working—or both, I'm not sure. But it's not recommended to just let the vehicles sit. Which means, the owner can't sit through the winter. If you do, you might need the wrecker again.
.
But it's easy to get fond of having one. Tractors with a front end loader are so helpful. An overgrown path can be cleared. A trailer on the back helps when picking up storm debris. The front end loader moves gravel or dirt.

I never expected to need farm equipment. But, it does come in handy.

Muse, Muscling Through, or Motivating

8/17/2019

When the Road Closed sign was in front of my house due to flooding, various drivers took the sign differently. At first, everyone turned around because it would have been disastrous to continue. Then, after the water went down enough to see the road signs and judge the depths better, some drivers of sturdy trucks chanced it. It may have been more of a risk than they realized as the pavement could have washed away. Luckily, the flood waters didn't damage this street.

Sometimes writers face something which correlates to the sign. A blank screen without a visible path. The options are similar to the ones for the people on the highway in front of my house. Power through and hope you don't get swept away, and have to replace the vehicle. Or, turn around—take another path. Spend a little longer on the process, but arrive at the destination. Different days result in different choices.

For the Road Closed sign at my house, something surprised me. I had a lot of conversations with people who told me they'd turned around in my driveway. I had no idea how many acquaintances knew where I lived. I chatted with a neighbor I'd never before met.

I hope the flood waters do not ever return—particularly for my friends who were devastated by the situation. I'm pleased it's behind me.

But whichever path a person takes, either on the street or the page, the results are the same. A choice to get to the destination.

Photo credit: Liz Tyner

Photos From My World: Butterfly

8/16/2019

Writing 101...Where Do I Write?

8/10/2019

Where do writer's write?

While writing, a sportsman’s blind is a great opportunity for me to watch the bird feeder, and sometimes get surprised by the animals. A covey of quail scattered once when I stepped out of the blind, and I was so disappointed I’d not stayed put for only five more minutes. But for all I know, they could have been sitting behind me from the time I sat down.

It’s not unusual for me to perch my keyboard outside. I find it inspirational. It’s hard to have writer’s block if you keep moving away from it.

Sometimes, a standing desk is the only way to go.

There's really no rule about where to write...but a word of warning... Writing in an airport is fine, but if you're a person who unconsciously lives the scenes...be aware...your face may give you away... You could be entertaining the other people around you.

Photos From My World—Bee Balm

7/27/2019

The Rotunda

7/20/2019

The Rotunda of the Capital Building in the USA is used for dignitaries to lie in state, and the public is allowed to pay their respects. It was surprising to me to discover that it had been used during the civil war as a union hospital.

Another surprising fact for me was that the artist had fallen while on the scaffolding but had held on for 15 minutes to be rescued. How terrifying. And how tragic it would have been for him to have been killed completing his final masterpiece.

Photos From My World...Butterfly

7/13/2019

After a hail storm, I've noticed that some of the butterflies have damage.