I almost lost Lizzie’s Surprise. After I had written it, along with several others in the series, I hit a rough patch in my life, and I developed a nasty case of writer’s block.
     I wanted to write, desperately. I stared at my computer for hours, but not a single word would come. Eventually, I stopped trying.
     Did I care that I left one of my characters puking her guts out with no relief?
     Of course, I cared. I love my characters, even the not-so-nice ones, but I couldn’t fix her problems until I fixed a few of my own.
     So I worked on me, one tiny step at a time. It was abominably slow and excruciating at times, but each little victory made me feel stronger and more confident.
     Eventually, I found words again. Some didn’t go anywhere, but every word I wrote restored another piece of my writer’s soul. I was still working on me, but having that part of myself back was like feeling the spring sunshine on my face after a long, cold winter.
     As I began to share my new stories, people asked me what else I had written. The problem was, I had switched computers during my writerly pause and … gulp … I wasn’t sure I still had them.
     I shed a few tears. I said a lot of prayers. And I methodically went through my current files and an old backup drive and found … zilch.
     And then I found a CD labeled ‘misc. files’. I popped it in and there they were, Lizzie and all of her friends. I think I sobbed for at least an hour, then wept again as I reread them over the course of the next few days.
     Back then I was not particularly vigilant about saving my work in multiple places, so the fact that I burned a CD and labeled was a miracle. I save everything now, multiple times, in multiple formats, in multiple places; I never want to feel that kind of sickening panic again!
     So Lizzie returned to me. Her story gained new life with a major overhaul, and I knew that, eventually, she would find her way to paper.
     The character left mid-puke finally got her story (with one of the most unexpected twists!), but you’ll have to wait a while for that one.
     And their author?
     I got my mojo and my muse back. I knew, without a doubt, that writing and publishing my stories was inevitable. Oh, it wasn’t and couldn’t be instantaneous; I had a crap-ton of work to do before I was ready (in many respects).
     But guess what?
     I’m ready now. So prepare to meet Lizzie! And while you’re waiting, be sure to check out my book trailer!      

     When Lizzie first announced herself to me, I never imagined that she would, in turn, introduce me to all of her friends. If you read her latest blog, she told you a little about them. You’ll get to know them better as their stories come out, but I’ve often thought about sharing some snippets about their younger selves. 
     I’ve decided to do that here from time to time, starting with my dear friend Lizzie. Enjoy!

     “Can you four slow down?” Lizzie shouted at the four younger boys who had, as usual, run ahead of them as they walked to the creek. The sun was warm and bright, and though the water would be chilly for wading, they were all eager to dip their toes in after a particularly harsh winter. “Seriously,” she muttered.
     “They’re fine, Lizzie,” her second cousin, Simon Prince, assured her. 
     “But we’re responsible for them,” she huffed. “And as much as I love Abby here, she’s heavy.”
     Simon expelled a heavy sigh. “I’ll take her.” He scooped the two-year-old from Lizzie’s arms and flew her up to his shoulders. She chortled happily, and Lizzie scowled. “What’s wrong, Lizzie?”
     “Wrong? Nothing. I’m perfectly fine, Simon and …” She paused when ten-year-old Tessa tugged on her sleeve. “Yes, Tess?”
     “Can Kimmy and I go ahead with the boys?” 
     “Please?” Kim added for good measure.
     Lizzie expelled a heavy sigh and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Just … be careful.”
     “See what they started?” Lizzie griped. 
     “The boys are behaving exactly like they always do, Lizzie. And since you usually find their mischief and mayhem amusing as long as we can keep them out of real trouble …” He laid a hand on her arm. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
     Lizzie shrugged. “It’s nothing important.”
     “You’re not yourself, Lizzie. So whether you think it’s important or not, maybe you need to talk to someone. And since I’m here …”
     Lizzie took a long, deep breath and expelled it slowly. “Junior Prom is a month away and …” 
     “No date?” Simon asked gently.
     “Worse. My date dumped me for someone … better. You know … cuter, skinnier, way more popular. I’m just … God, I hate feeling like such a loser and …”
     “And,” Simon prompted. 
     “She’s one of Laurel’s friends so …”
     “So that little witch is hitting you when you’re down. Charming. First of all, whatever this other girl is, there’s no way she’s better than my amazing cousin. You’re sweet, funny, smart …”
     “But not pretty,” she croaked. “And it doesn’t count if you say it, ‘cause we’re related.”
     “Fair enough. But if it makes you feel better, some of my friends think you’re hot. As for the rest, you’re not a loser, Lizzie, so don’t let a few obnoxious people make you feel like one. My guess is, one day you’ll be the one to be envied.”
     “You think?”
     “I know. The people who change the world rarely peak in high school.”
     “You were popular,” she countered.
     “I was … a novelty,” he sighed. “The new kid with the interesting accent got me invited to a few parties, but my real friends were the other kids on the school newspaper. You want my prediction?”
     “Are you a psychic now? And here I thought you were going to be a hotshot reporter.” 
     “You never know what hidden abilities a person might have, Lizzie, or where life might take them. You’re the kind of person that always knows how to make people feel better. That might not feel like much at sixteen, and it may not get you a seat at the popular table but … it’s kind of incredible.”
     “Something tells me it’s not going to get me a whole lot of dates,” she mumbled. 
     “One day you’ll find someone who loves you just as you are, Lizzie, and he won’t care if you’re not a size two or that you weren’t a cheerleader.”
     “You think?” she sniffled. “Any chance you could conjure him up in time for prom?”
     “Doubtful,” Simon sighed. “But if you need a date, my semester ends the week before so …”
     Lizzie rolled her eyes but smiled at him. “You’re sweet to offer but … going to prom with my cousin …”
     “Second cousin,” he interrupted.
​     “Doesn’t matter. Worse than sitting at home, which is what I’ll be doing.”
     “Not a chance, cuz,” he grinned. “I see your point, though. So, if I’m not your best option, how would you feel about Jason?”
     “Your roommate, Jason? The one that looks like a Greek god?” 
     Simon laughed. “I’ll keep that bit to myself, or he’ll get a bigger head than he already has! Yes, Jason. He’s going to work as a camp counselor around here for the summer, so he’s coming home with me for orientation. And …” he wiggled his eyes. “He thinks you’re adorable.”
     “Fuzzy bunny adorable? Or, you know, hot adorable?”
     “What do you think?” he smirked. 
     “I thought he had a girlfriend?”
     “She dumped him over spring break. C’mon, Lizzie. Admit that you’d love walking into your prom on the arms of … what were the words you used … a Greek god. Your friend Laurel won’t know what to say …”
     Lizzie grinned. A hot, college man and the thought of Laurel red-faced and at a loss for words was definitely tempting. “On one condition.”
     “Name it.”
     “We make it a double-date. My friend Heather doesn’t have a date either …”

    I grew up in a very small community. It was the kind of place where you knew almost everyone, or if you didn’t know them, you knew someone who did. And since my Dad was the local volunteer fire chief, almost everyone knew him and, by association, me. 
     I’ll admit that it drove me crazy at times. There was a point when I wanted to be me, not someone’s daughter, sister, or niece. And I wanted to go somewhere and not have someone say ‘are you an (insert last name)?’ And, yes, that happened a lot when I was a kid! 
     But most of the time, I loved the smallness. It was safe, quiet, and insulated in my tiny rural township. I had a handful of local kids to play with and plenty of room to run. 
     My grandparents lived in a town not far away. It was still a very small place, but it felt much larger and more exciting. On the Friday nights that I slept over, I would fall asleep to a symphony of church bells. And Saturday mornings in town meant a walk to the bakery (just over a block away) for freshly baked Persian rolls and, if I was lucky, to the second-hand bookstore. 
     But even though it felt bigger, it was still a very small town. My grandmother was known for her homemade filled cabbage (halupki) and even though you might not know everyone, it was never hard to find a connection.
     Community is about looking out for your neighbors and helping them out. I feel fortunate to have grown up with that sense of belonging. 
     But my idea of community has changed over the years. Community isn’t restricted to taking care of your physical neighbors. Community can be a group of people who have never met (and may never meet) in person who support each other in online forums. My writing community has included readers and writers from around the world, drawn together by a common interest. 
     I was lucky to find a community like that when I began writing. We shared our stories, we encouraged each other, collaborated with each other, mentored each other. It didn’t matter that we were halfway around the world, in different hemispheres and different time zones. What mattered was the connection.
     The power of the Internet has changed how we interact with each other, and not always for the best. But it can foster the creation of new and different communities. 
     I do know one thing for certain. Lizzie Kincaid and her friends are from a small, close-knit village like mine, but they wouldn’t exist without the very different internet community that nurtured me and, in turn, them. 
     It’s all about the connections that we form and how we choose to interact with them. Yes, there are differences, but community is as much the dear friend who is halfway around the world as it is the second cousin once removed up the road. 
     From what I’ve learned, we need them both. 

     It’s taken a very long time but can finally introduce myself as a writer. I used to shy away from the word, not ready to own that writing is who I am. I think, on some level, I didn’t feel that I had earned the title. I wrote my stories for me, to satisfy the voices of my imaginary friends. I loved writing, but I couldn’t quite see myself as a writer in the real world. 
     In the real world, I was a corporate travel agent. It was your typical nine-to-five, customer service, nightmare of a job. I was unhappy, but I owned my misery. Writing was my escape, but I couldn’t quite see it that it is a huge part of who I am.
     It’s taken me a very long time to claim the title of writer, storyteller, author.
     It’s taken me even longer to state proudly ‘I write romance novels’.
     When asked what kind of stories I wrote, I would, invariably mumble ‘I just write romance’. Though I have been a romance reader for many years, in many respects I felt like romance novels were frivolous and predictable.
     Well, duh! Of course they are. I read romance novels because they allowed me to escape my mundane life for a few hours. They provide adventure and fantasy and passion. And best of all? They provide the oh-so-predictable happily-ever-after. 
     Who doesn’t want to believe that true love exists? Who doesn’t want to believe that it really can last forever? Who doesn’t need a little frivolity, romance, and adventure?
     Not me. I believe in it all. True love. Soul mates. Happily-ever-after. 
     I’m through apologizing. Not only can I introduce myself as a writer, but I also can, and will introduce myself as a romance novelist. 
     So when you need to escape, I’m here for you! I promise love, fun, and a few tears along the way, but most of all, I promise that happy ending that we all crave. 

     What if?
     It’s a question that I ask myself often. It might be sparked by a story on the evening news, a random conversation, or even a dream. 
     For me, the what-ifs are the first little glimmers of stories that are waiting to be told. Sometimes, they shimmer just for a moment, then disappear, never to return. But when I’m lucky, those little glimmers grow and become brighter and brighter until I can’t ignore them any longer. 
     I love my what ifs. Lizzie’s story began that way. 
     Like Lizzie, I was stuck in a job that I often found frustrating and stressful. But it had its moments of fun, too. I had conversations that made me laugh and, yes, even one or two that got a little flirtatious. When you spend your day talking to people, it’s inevitable to create images of them in your head, but I was usually dead wrong if and when I met them in person.
     It was fun to imagine all the same. And my imaginings led to . . . what if the person on the other end of the phone was the one?
     That’s when Lizzie and Colin introduced themselves and began to tell me their story. 
     It’s strange. I consider myself a storyteller more than anything else, a conduit for a story that wants to be expressed. I have a cast of imaginary friends in my head, and they are forever clamoring for attention. Many of them come to me complete with names and backstories; others reveal themselves more slowly or allow me to mold them, at least a little. 
     When Lizzie and Colin first tapped on my brain and started telling me their story, I had no inkling where their journey would lead them, or me. I certainly never expected it to spawn an entire series of novels! I simply listened and allowed their story to flow through me. I’ve lived with them and their story for a long time. I’m excited to share it, along with those of their friends and neighbors. 
     There have been a lot of what-ifs along the way, and I have enough stories in my head to share for years to come! 
     Please join my mailing list to receive updates and details on Lizzie’s Surprise. I might even have a surprise or two just for you!

     My original idea for this post was to introduce you to my main character, Lizzie Kincaid. But as I sat down to type, Lizzie gave me a not-so-gentle nudge. It seems that she wants to introduce herself, so, without further ado, I’m giving her control of the keyboard.  – Lily
   
     Hi, all! I thought she’d never leave! (Just kidding, Lily!) Seriously, though, I’m thrilled to be here, but I’m even more thrilled that she’s finally going to put my story out there. Trust me, it’s been a very long time coming!
     I’ve read hundreds of romance novels over the years, and I can honestly say that I never expected to live one. Oh, I was a hopeless romantic, emphasis on the hopeless part, but I’d given up on finding a love story of my own. Too much heartache, too little actual love.
     But I’m getting ahead of myself. My full name is Anna Elizabeth Kincaid; I’m Lizzie to family and friends, but Anna at work. Weird, I know, but there was already an Elizabeth and a Liz when I started, and management wanted to avoid confusion. Whatever. I didn’t really mind.
     My childhood was relatively normal. We weren’t poor, but we didn’t have a lot of money for extras. Still, it was happy enough, great parents, annoying older brother, quirky relatives, and a menagerie of dogs, cats, bunnies, and other assorted furry creatures.
     We lived in Crossroads, which is barely a tiny dot on the map. It’s the kind of place where you know almost everybody, or if you don’t actually know them, you have someone in common. Small town life has its pros – safety, security, comfort – and its cons – zero privacy and every single thing you do gets back to your parents. Ugh.
     Growing up, I spent most of my time playing with the other neighborhood kids. You’ll get to know them along the way since we’re all still close. We had a lot of fun, even if I did spend half of my time trying to keep them out of trouble. Okay, so I may be a bit of a mother hen, but that’s not a bad thing, right?
     I’m not sure I ever really chose my grown-up life, you know? I went to Penn State, studied English lit (I blame Jane Austen for that), and, with no real career aspirations, I drifted into a job as a corporate travel agent. Trust me, it’s not the glamorous job that people imagine, but it did pay the bills. Or it paid some of the bills, at least; there was never quite enough left after paying my rent to pay them all.
     It wasn’t all bad, of course. My family may be quirky, but I know I can count on them. And I have two amazing best friends who always know when circumstances call for an emergency bottle of wine or two. But I wasn’t really living, you know? No romance. No adventure. No actual life.
     The thing is, I didn’t really understand how lonely and lost I was until I wasn’t.
     And now? I’m living a life I never imagined and, trust me, I have a vivid imagination!). I’m happier than I ever dreamed possible, all because of one phone call.
     Curious? Good, because it’s an amazing story, complete with romance, near-tragedy, laughter, tears, and, yes, a surprise (or two)!
 
XOXO
 
Lizzie (by the way, you can follow me on Twitter, too! I'm @LizzieKincaid)

     ​When did I become a storyteller? Was there a moment when I knew? Or has it always been a part of who I am?
     I was a shy child, happiest when I was reading or creating elaborate backstories for my Barbies. I never wrote them down, but they were stories all the same. I spent hours on the floor in my bedroom, helping Barbie negotiate her love life as she decided between the Ken with facial hair and one of the G.I. Joes that I pilfered from my brothers.
     Even then, I was all about a happily-ever-after.
     I love fairy tales. I guess I’ve always believed that love can move mountains, that people can conquer whatever tries to tear them apart. I guess I’ve always believed that, in the end, love is what matters most.
     I suppose that’s why I felt so connected when I opened my very first romance novel. I was twelve, I think, and it was a sweetly romantic Barbara Cartland book. I’m pretty sure it was love at first read.
     Those stories allowed me to dream. Those stories gave me hope. Those stories helped me escape from the challenges of adolescence, at least for a little while.
     Those stories made me imagine my own, at times. But at the time, I lacked the confidence to try. So I contented myself with inhabiting other authors’ worlds, rather than creating my own. At times, I imagined different lives for the characters that I loved. At times, I knew that I had my own stories to tell.
     But I didn’t know where to start.
     And then, suddenly, I did.     
     I can’t explain why a mediocre if sweet rom-com inspired me to write fan fiction. I suppose it’s because I wanted more. I wanted to fill in the plot holes. And I wanted to see what happened after the first kiss.
     So I did. I sat at my computer and allowed the characters that I love to take me on a journey. I wrote the story as I wanted it.
     But I only wrote it for me. At the time, I didn’t even know what fanfiction was. And then I stumbled on a website dedicated to my sweet, imperfect rom-com and, to my surprise and delight, I found a community of people who loved it too.
     With their support and encouragement, I found my voice. I reconnected with the playful, creative child, and I allowed myself to tell stories again.
     Eventually, my own characters introduced themselves to me. They had stories to share, and they wanted me to write them. I’m not completely sure why, but I listened, and I’m grateful that I did.
     I love getting to know the cast of characters in my head. They surprise me and take me to places I never imagined. In many ways, I feel like they’re the real storytellers.
     As for me, I’m just the lucky writer who gets to share them with the world.
     So, to answer my own questions, yes, I’ve always been a storyteller. And, yes, there was a defining moment when I finally understood that fact.
     So watch this space! Soon you’ll meet my dear friend Lizzie Kincaid and learn just what kind of surprises life has in store for her.