A Little Bit of Heartbreak by Liz Flaherty #WordWranglers

Last week, I got what we used to euphemistically call a "decline" from Harlequin, for whom I've written four Heartwarming books, a Silhouette Special Edition, and two Carina Press releases. It wasn't my first refusal from them, or the worst. My editor is one of the good guys and I appreciate his effort over the years. 

The reason for the heartbreak is that while it wasn't my first rejection from Harlequin, it probably is my last. The rejection was of a series, one I put a lot of heart and thought into and which I still believe was a good match with Heartwarming. 

But I understood their reasons. I understood that as I have aged--really fast, by the way--much of the world of romantic fiction is like Peter Pan and "won't grow up." They do, of course, grow up, but even when they have older protagonists, they tend to give them young worries, concerns, and libidos. At least, I think they do. When I write, however, I don't. 

And that brings up the fact that my voice doesn't exactly fit--never has. My editor has had to drag me back from the dark women's fiction side with every book. He may well be tired of doing that, although he hasn't said so. I tell you that because, although my grapes may be on the sour side, I've done a lot of the fermenting myself. 

So. Am I done? No. 

Am I starting over? No. 

Writing "at a certain age" is like living at the same age. I still go when and where I can, do what I can, love the same guy, and have a great time. Every single one of those things has undergone changes--some of them drastic!--over the years, but the pleasure and the satisfaction derived from them haven't lessened at all. 

The truth is, if your life has been full, if you've loved people and done things and learned things, your heart has been broken. More than once and to varying degrees. Sometimes it's just a chip, sometimes a deep crack that goes all the way across and all the way through. Sometimes it's shattered. 

Writing this out--writing's what I do, after all--has made me see that this decline, this change of plans, is nothing more than a chip. Its sharp edge will smooth with time. Life is good.

For now, I hope you'll order Last Chance Beach: Summer's End if you haven't already, and I hope you enjoy it. I'm working on something else now, too, and thinking of what to do with it. I hope you stick around to see how my story continues, and I hope your heartbreaks are all chips. 

Gotta go. I have a story to finish.