Liz Tyner - Liz's Latest

Outdoors or Indoors? Both!

11/3/2018

Nature fascinates me. While I'm not suggesting that I don't like climate controlled environments or spaces that are mosquito free—nature is not only a sea of greens in late spring or the depressing grays of winter.

I've even discovered that one butterfly is called a Question Mark which is only slightly different than the Comma butterfly. I didn't think to research if there are any insects with an exclamation mark in their name.

I'm always pleased when I see a butterfly that looks like a leaf.

The good stuff in nature often hides from humans and the bad stuff tends to get too close to us—poison ivy, thorns and snakes to name a few of my enemies. Even against those three, I still say mosquitoes as the most blatantly evil part of nature. They are responsible for a large number of fatalities.

Sometimes I write outside even though the sun can make the computer screen difficult to read. It's easy to get distracted by the outdoors, but the distractions are part of the adventure.

My Impressionist View of My Flower Garden

10/6/2018

I put a copy of one of the Impressionists pictures on my wall—the Monet with the woman in the field. I asked people what they thought of when they saw it, and the answers were slightly different, or completely opposite.

No two people read the same book and perhaps no two people see the same painting or picture, and yet we are basically very similar.

We all want our happily ever after.

My Historical Romance Book Covers

10/6/2018

The first cover for my new book arrives basically via email. I open the email and see a link to my cover. (Cue the internal drumroll as the computer takes its time.)

I have had some cover art that amazed me with the spot-on reproduction of my story.

Sometimes I think to myself that I hadn't realized what the heroine looked like until I see the photo. Sometimes I'm amazed at how well the cover captures the theme of the book.

Sometimes I have no idea which book is behind the cover at first glance. I look at the back and the character's names give me the clue I need.

For the cover below, I had only the picture to use to guess the story and so I Googled the title. It's Czech, and I really like the cover and the new spelling of my name. It, and the above cover are for the same book, The Runaway Governess.

Regency Romance and a Sailing Ship...

9/30/2018

I'd wanted to write Captain Ben's story shortly after starting my debut novel. Safe In The Earl's Arms begins with two brothers on a ship, arguing about who has to go to shore to investigate why a woman wishes to speak to the captain. Captain Benjamin explains to older brother, the Earl, that on land an earl outranks a captain, but on the ship, the captain is the ranking person. Either he goes to see what the woman wants, or he goes overboard to see what the woman wants and his crew will back him up.

For a free read of the first few chapters of the Captain's story from Google Books, please click below.

A Captain and A Rogue

Nature's Plot Twist

9/29/2018

     Didn't the bee realize the pollen was going to be there for awhile? He was digging in, grabbing so much pollen that when he took off, he dusted the air. Another bee flew away, and again the flakes of pollen fell from his body.
     I'd never seen anything like it. The bees seemed greedy, working as rapidly as they could to get as much pollen as they could. I watched as one flew up and then headed for the woods. I wondered how far he was taking the pollen, and how much of his energy he would use getting the supplies back home.
     I expected he'd done the same thing all day.
     Then, plot twist! Later, clouds rolled in an a light rain started. I imagined all of the pollen being washed off the thistle.
    I should have realized what was going to happen, but I hadn't. Like a reader in a good book, I didn't see what the characters may have knew, or expected, or what may have been just as much of a surprise to him as it was to me.
    Plot twists aren't as much fun in real life as they are in stories, but they can keep a reader enthralled.
    Happy reading, and Happy writing.

Photo: Bee on thistle garden behind my house.

Battered Butterfly In My World

9/26/2018

This butterfly was still able to glide and fly. It always makes me feel proud of the survivors who have triumphed over difficult times.

Five Hacks for Writing Creativity

9/15/2018

1. A Dear Johnnie letter. When the creativity is over, it's time to tell it goodbye. So start an email to your dearest friend, telling her what the outline of the story is, what you've been writing, and where you've gotten stuck. The answer may pop into your head as you write about the problem. Then delete!

2. Too tired to conspire. Native Americans supposedly sometimes stayed up well past their bedtimes to let their minds roam and have answers to their questions. When we stay awake well into the night, and become too tired to really think, our brains can go on outrageous rambles. While this is not for everyone...perhaps a bit of it might work for your plotting.

3. Fifteen minutes on a treadmill. Don't overdo it. Movement helps creativity. See if it works for you. But again, take it easy. You can do too much of a good thing. I suppose if you added 2. and 3. together, you could get to bed earlier.

4. The Green Eggs Theory. Write at the park, in a car, at the library, in the yard. Anywhere there is an outlet or your batteries work...just leave your usual space and find somewhere new. If it's at the library, you will be telling your brain to get busy. You didn't leave the house just to waste a few hours staring at a keyboard.

5. Directionally Challenged Creativity. Go the opposite direction in your story. If you were planning for a hero to kill the bad guy...have him save the bad guy's life. At least first. Then...whatever...

6. (An extra one in case you really don't like one of the above.) What the Dickens? A mirror. Put a mirror in your workspace as Charles Dickens did. Then you can move your hand, wave and arm, and you'll have those motions played out in front of you to describe.

Happy Writing!

Photos From My World

9/8/2018

Horse Art to Amaze

9/1/2018

I liked the horses. I really did. They did seem like art to me. Driftwood art at first, but still fascinating. That was before I knew they were bronze. Deborah Butterfield is an artist, who if I were to guess, loves horses.

I wouldn't have known they weren't wooden if I hadn't been told. I looked closer, and could hardly believe what I saw.

The artist assembles the horses out of tree limbs, then takes the horses apart and casts the wood in bronze and reassembles.

Amazing...

Book Look: The Commandment-Anna Kittrell

8/24/2018

Anna Kittrell

The past is set in stone with the only changeable part being our perception of it—but could the future be the same way?

Anna Kittrell has a new psychological thriller, The Commandment and her imagination has taken a perceptive look into the future’s possibilities, and the traps yet-to-be-born generations could create.

Imagine a seven year old having an ankle monitor. I'd never thought of that...

Excerpt:
“It’s late September, not the middle of July,” Briar’s mother said, blotting her forehead as she clipped down the walkway toward the car. “Seems Mother Nature didn’t get the memo.”
“Can I drive?” Briar jogged to the driver’s side.
“We’ve already discussed this. You’re not allowed behind the wheel until that thing comes off your leg.” Her mother nodded toward the clunky black box strapped around Briar’s ankle.
The infamous ankle monitor—aka life destroyer. Briar’s electronic prison guard since age seven.
“But that’s so ridiculous. What am I going to do, pick up a bunch of other unlevels and start a crusade? Come on, please? Just to the clinic. They’ll never know.”
“Don’t argue, just get in.” She aimed the key fob at the car.
“You know, Mom, if you had a cuffphone, like the rest of the population, you wouldn’t need that old fob. The car would sense you coming and the door would pop open on its own.”
Briar drudged around to the passenger side and climbed in, the headachy sweet scent of floral air freshener hitting her between the eyes.
Her mom slid behind the wheel and clicked her seatbelt. “Buckle up,” she said, double-glancing at her daughter. “What on earth is that on your head?”
“You noticed?” Briar pulled the seatbelt over her shoulder and snapped it, catching a section of long blue hair in the clasp. “I was chatting with Mouse online, trying to cheer him up.” She plucked the wig from her head, freed the strands from the buckle, and pushed the wig into her bag, causing her furry keychain to fall out onto her lap.
“He was sad about losing his dad.”
The little boy’s face had crumpled as he’d told her he wanted his dad back. She’d known how to make him feel better but had swallowed the comforting Bible verse on her tongue—one of many her grandmother had taught her as a child—and put on the silly wig instead. Blue hair was acceptable. Reciting scripture would get her arrested. Sharing Christian faith was illegal by law of The Commandment. The crime carried an even stiffer penalty than skipping a SAP injection or disabling a fleshcard.
Not that either of those things meant anything to Briar. Her body repeatedly rejected the Serum to Accelerate Progressivism, meaning she had no need for the under-the-skin device that kept track of SAP levels in the brain. Her body’s intolerance of SAP was the reason she couldn’t take a walk around the neighborhood, or drive—or do anything that made life worth living.

Amazon: https://goo.gl/Fuca4k
Pelican/Prism: https://goo.gl/9BbDod
Barnes and Noble: https://goo.gl/UWgq3Y