Anyone who has wrangled “oversized” show dogs, even a medium sized mutt, is okay with me. I wonder how she does with Great Danes? Oh, wait, she’s wrangled horses too, so she’s already been trained. I plan on calling her the next time I have to give a bath to my pack, lol!
Liz is a wife, mom, critter owner, and freelance writer and has written hundreds of articles. If that's not enough to make your head spin she has now embarked on a career as an author. Her book is set in rural Connecticut with dogs and cats, a bit of heartbreak, love, and a ghost.
Liz is very familiar with sitting in front of a computer screen for hours. She shares how she balances the butt in the chair times with things that recharge and refresh her for yet more work.
Most days I worship at the altar of the electronic god. I sit, glued to my laptop, waiting for the next e-mail to come in, typing out a few pages of my manuscript, surfing the internet to see what my fellow writers are doing. I bathe in the glow of the screen from early morning until late at night. Of course, I do other things: I make breakfast, do housework, read, feed the dog, volunteer, visit with family and friends. But because I'm a writer who works at home, the computer has somehow taken on a central importance. It has become my boss, my colleague, my electronic water cooler all in one.
I live in New England, and it's been a long, cold winter this year. In some places, the snow drifts in my neighborhood are well over my head. (Granted, I'm only 5'2, but still.) The computer has served as a particular life line this year, my portal to the outside world when the view outside my window is unyielding white.
But still.
Too much time in front of the screen makes me feel vaguely claustrophobic, as if this World Wide Web is actually shrinking my domain. I know others feel the same -- I've read about resolutions to cut down on screen time this year, to use software to lock out the internet so real work can get done, to banish the computer to another room for a time out.
I've seen deer on these hikes, rabbits, even an owl, perched at the top of the tree like a lump of wood. He turned his head a few times, blinked sleepily, then closed his eyes against the racket we were making. I've seen the dog bounding in snow so deep it looked as if he were swimming. I've had thoughtful conversations with friends about the lives we live now and the lives we once imagined, about our families and our dreams and goals, conversations that would be impossible in e-mails or IMs. Mostly, though, I've listened to the silence and appreciated the view around me. On my favorite walk, there's a bend where the pine trees tower overhead like the ceiling on a cathedral. The path turns sharply, so you can't see what's ahead or much of what's behind. There's only this space, so small but yet so immense at the same time, and each time I come across it I stand still for a moment and try to impress it upon my memory so that when I'm back in front of the computer I can recall it and remind myself that the world really is wider than my 15-inch monitor.
- How do you recharge after spending time in front of the computer?
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EVENFALL Blurb:
That's what they say in Hartman, Connecticut, where the Murphy women are known for their beauty, willfulness, and disastrous luck with men. No one knows the truth of this saying better than Frank Wildermuth. Fifty years ago, he fell in love with Gert Murphy, but through fate and bad timing wound up married to her sister. He spent the rest of his life quietly regretting his mistake. Now Frank's dead -- but not quite gone—and it's time to do some haunting of his own.
All Andie Murphy ever wanted was to get out of town. But she’s back to settle Evenfall, her Uncle Frank’s estate, where some things never change -- and some things have changed a lot. Aunt Gert, for example, still drives her crazy. On the other hand, Cort, the wide-eyed farmboy she used to babysit, is all grown up -- with a whole new definition for the word sleepover.
But if you're a Murphy woman, love never goes smoothly. As Andie struggles with her feelings, Frank sees a chance for redemption -- one that could cost his niece dearly. They'll both need to decide --
Is true love really everlasting? Is home just an address, or a place you carry in your heart? And if you truly regret your mistakes, can the long-buried dreams of your youth come alive again? Excerpt
In her previous life, she wrangled with ill-tempered horses and over sized show dogs. These days she chases after small children and a medium-sized mutt.
She likes dark chocolate caramels, champagne, and licorice tea (preferably not all served at once). In summer you'll find her visiting farmers' markets and trying to talk her family out of making her swim at the Connecticut shore.
The rest of the year she's home in Massachusetts with her husband, daughter, and son, hard at work on her next novel.
You can find Liz: Website, Facebook, and Goodreads
