Taking on the Tough Topics by Susan Sands

I took some time to read Kristan Higgins' new book, Good Luck With That, last week. Kristan is one

of my auto-buy authors because she writes with such humor about some pretty tough topics. This book was no exception. It tackled the difficult subject of obesity and her characters' lifelong struggles with weight. Many of us aren't considered obese by the doctor's charts but still fight our metabolisms daily to keep from gaining more than we should. I know I do. I love food and mostly the wrong kinds. I grew up in Louisiana where food was love. I envy those folks who consider food as fuel. But Kristan, through what I imagine was a great deal of research, handled the the story and the agony of how society treats the overweight, and the truly obese. And how those people, because of that lifelong abuse, treat themselves. The obsession with being skinny, the fixation on food, and the utter agony of being hated for their fat. The eating disorders and other psychological issues, not to mention the physical and medical conditions are many and vary widely. I'm not sure I would have had the courage to dive this deeply into such a sensitive subject unless it were part of my own reality. But I think Kristan did an amazing job portraying her characters with an emotional beauty and soul-baring honesty that readers will appreciate and identify with.

As writers, we walk a fine line. We want to accurately portray characters' lives and emotions and perspectives as accurately as possible. We're often told to "write what we know." This can't always be the case, obviously. We are only one person with a single perspective. I am only one race, one gender, and have only lived within my life experiences. To portray another's life is tricky. Can I authentically write in a woman of color's point of view? Or a man's? Like I said, it's tricky.

In my first book, Again, Alabama, I wrote about a woman who'd been cheated on by her fiancé. She was a celebrity chef and found solace back in her Alabama hometown after a hugely embarrassing ordeal. I'd had none of those particular experiences. But I'd been lied to and hurt by a guy as young woman, (who hasn't at some point?) I love to cook, and my family does make me feel safe and protected when things go wrong. So, I took those emotions and put them to work in my story.

When I write about something unfamiliar, I research, I speak to people extensively about their experiences and how they were affected by things out of my realm of understanding. Plus, writer's often tend to be intuitive and empathetic. We are really good at putting ourselves in others' shoes. Hopefully we get it right more often than not. And we use beta readers. Readers who are our target audience, or maybe the same gender, race, or circumstance as our characters in our stories. I wouldn't consider sending a book to my publisher without fist making sure the voice and tone is authentic.

Bravo to Kristan Higgins on her new book. It couldn't have been easy to write. I'm deeply impressed!

Have a fantastic week, everyone!

Susan Sands

Liz Flaherty: Exploring Emotion

Thanks so much for having me here! This is one of my favorite places.

One of my favorite parts of writing romance is that I get to explore emotion. I get to hold it in my hands and literally peel it like an apple or a peach or a tangerine. Exactly like that, because sometimes the emotion is tart and sharp like an early apple; often it’s sweet and juicy like a peach; sometimes it’s almost too easy, like slipping the rind off the tangerine.

Other times, I get to pick up a piece of fabric and tear it in half the wrong way, against the grain, when those first threads absolutely will not break...and then then do, and the fabric rips but it’s not straight. It’s not pretty, but it’s strong. It will stay with you. Of course, you have to put it back together to make it strong, and sometimes there will be little holes or crooked scars in the cloth.

Still other times, I get to play a bass drum really loud in the sunshine. Or walk in the rain where the water softens everything, blurring its edges and softening the sound of music, but irritates at the same time.

I confess, I’ve blogged about writing until the very thought of coming up with something new about it makes my eyes cross on their own and my fingers come to an abrupt stop on the keyboard. That’s why I’m getting a little abstract with emotion. Well, that and the fact that it’s my favorite component of romantic fiction. There are so many parts, aren’t there? The story itself, the heroine’s and the hero’s journeys, the sensuality, the action (if I’d written this about action, we’d still be in the first paragraph—that’s how bad I am at it), the setting, the black moment, the...oh, you get it, right?

Most of us, I believe, have our areas of expertise. Ken Meyer, who’s the best limerick-writer this side of the Irish Sea, is in the writers’ group I’m a part of, and he wrote a setting the other day I swear engaged every one of my senses and left them yearning for more. I love setting, I do, but mine never resonate like that.

Kathleen Gilles Seidel takes us on such a comfortable trip through the protagonists’ journeys that I don’t even realize we’re moving until the train stops at the “oh, here we are” moment.

Kristan Higgins does the same thing with black moments. I don’t even realize I’m there until I have tears on my face.

But me? I write emotion. Not better than anyone else, probably, but I love it so much that even if I stop writing books someday—and I will, right?—I think I’ll always write emotion just for the pleasure and pain of feeling it.

So, whether you’re a reader or a writer or both, talk to us about your favorite part of romance novels.

My newest book, Every Time We Say Goodbye, is out now. Here’s the blurb and buy links, and below that is an excerpt—not a long one, I promise—but it’s emotional.

He had her at "hello again…"

After the prom night accident that had stolen the innocence of his small lakeside hometown, Jack Llewellyn had run. The guilt—especially facing his high school sweetheart, Arlie Gallagher—had been too much. Now he had no choice. He was back in town, and on Arlie's radar.

Arlie couldn't believe that after all these years, she still had him under her skin. He was such a changed man…a responsible business owner, a single parent. Would he understand the changes she'd gone through, the secrets she lived with? She was ready to forgive him but was he ready to forgive himself? And did they have to say goodbye this time?

Click.
That pretty well summed up her relationship with her mother.
Arlie had been five years and two months old the day Glennis Gallagher set her on the couch in the living room with her Cabbage Patch doll, a plastic bag of Goldfish crackers and a glass of chocolate milk and told her to not move until Daddy got home. She had kissed Arlie’s forehead, leaving a fresh lipstick mark, and left without looking back. Glennis carried a suitcase and a big purse. The leather coat she’d gotten for her birthday squeaked when she walked. The scent of musk perfume drifted through the air. The locks clicked when the door closed behind her.
Arlie had been a very obedient little girl. By the time Dave got home from a twelve-hour shift at his job at the automotive plant in Kokomo, his daughter had wet herself and was sobbing quietly into a sofa pillow. The crackers and milk were long gone and she was hungry and scared, but mostly she was embarrassed because big girls never had accidents on their mothers’ good furniture.
Even now, as she sat on her own couch in the same room, which was unrecognizable compared to that day long ago, tears slipped silent and hot down Arlie’s cheeks for the little girl she’d been. She remembered the sounds of leather and clicking locks, the feel of Glennis’s cool lips against her forehead. She could still conjure the scent of musk in her consciousness.
It made her gag.
Her father had hugged her close, bathed her and put her into pink flannel pajamas. He’d set her at the kitchen table and made her an egg sandwich, bragging that no one made egg sandwiches like superdads did. He gave her more chocolate milk and a Twinkie, then tucked her into bed without making her brush her teeth again. He read Goodnight Moon to her even though she was a big girl of five and she’d heard it so often she knew the words by heart.
“Please don’t tell Mommy,” she begged when he kissed her good-night. “She’ll be mad about the couch.”
“I won’t tell,” he promised, “but you need to remember something, Arletta Marquetta Brigetta.”
“What’s that?” she whispered.
He smiled at her, then kissed her again, tucking her blanket in close. “Couches don’t matter. You matter.”
   And now Glennis wanted to see her.

Buy links: Amazon | B & N | Kobo | Harlequin


Liz Flaherty thinks one of the things that keeps you young when you quite obviously aren’t anymore is the constant chances you have to reinvent yourself. Her latest professional incarnation is as a Harlequin Heartwarming author and she is enjoying every minute! She’d love to hear from you at lizkflaherty@gmail.com or please come and see her at http://www.facebook.com/lizkflaherty