*What would you be doing right now if you were not an author?
I’d like to say that I’d be lying on a white sandy beach somewhere but that’s not true. I’d still be working, married, and mother to my kids. My creative outlet would have been photography, which I still do on occasion.
*5 years ago: what were you doing?
Most days I can’t remember what I had for dinner. Five years ago, I was laid off from a job that had for nearly a decade—the office closed down. I was putting a lot of effort into my writing because I had so much time on my hands.
*Do you have a certain writing ritual?
I used to have set blocks of time to write but about a month ago, my husband of 30 years took a job out of state and now I only see him on the weekends. You’d think I’d be writing all of the time with the house to myself so much but it’s been difficult to get used to and I’ve found that having those set blocks of time was actually a very good thing for me. Other than that, I have certain accoutrements that I must have when I’m writing; scented candles, cup of coffee, glass of something potent, my cigs, my iTunes are blaring, and maybe some incense is burning.
*What has been the toughest criticism given to you as an author?
Someone who desperately wanted to be close to me in my personal life told me I was ‘a shit writer’. That didn’t go over well and it didn’t ingratiate her to me. Other than that, most of the criticism that has come my way has been constructive and I’ve done my best to learn from it.
*Ever fangirled over another author? Who was it?
No, not really, I tend to save my ‘fangirling’ for really hot actors.
*Is there an author you'd like to meet?
I’d love to have coffee with Stephen King.
*Biggest writing pet peeve?
Self-doubt a/k/a Writer’s Block. It’s a real killer. Editing isn’t a lot of fun, I would never get through that part of the process without a few close friends who go over my stories for me, fix my spelling/grammar screw-ups, and give me their honest opinions of my work before publication.
* Do you read other's reviews of your books?
I don’t go crazy with it. If someone sends me the link to a review, I’ll go over and read it. If it’s a good review I drop them an email thanking them. If it’s mediocre, I still thank them and try to see their POV. As a standard course, I don’t purposefully visit sites looking for new reviews of my books. I think I’d go mad pretty quickly if I did that.
Fav Color: Blue
Fictional Character you'd like to spend the day with: Ares from my OF WAR Series
Fav food: Pizza or steak
Fav song and/or singer: Far too many to name, I love just about all Classic Rock bands and songs. They’re what’s blasting on my iTunes as I write and, if you’re anywhere around, you can hear me singing away.
Guilty pleasure: Binge watching “Supernatural” on Netflix, usually with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s Pistachio ice cream.
Lisa Beth Darling is 49 years-old, lives in her hometown of New London, CT with her husband of 30 years, Roy and is mother to their two daughters. She is the author of more than fifteen novels along with several short stories and non-fiction books. When she’s not writing she likes to garden and is an avid movie buff.
When the Hour is Darkest Love and Faith Can Conquer All.
In the final installment of the Sister Christian Series, the Court has demanded a hearing regarding Hannah's capacity. Hannah and Nick are falling deeper and deeper in love. Looking forward to a bright future they begin planning their life together. A shadowy stranger from the past has set his sights on Hannah and her 3.5 million dollar trust fund. Is he really Rick MacNeill, the son Hannah thought died in the terrible fire at Saint Anne's? Is he someone sinister? The last of the family secrets come to light in this roller coaster ride of suspense, love, betrayal, and faith.
"Oh, what am I doing?" She asked her reflection but it had no answers. "He's so much better than I am. Just like Rick."
The woman in the mirror just stared at her with a mixture of fear and bewilderment.
"This is crazy!"
Still her reflection only mimicked her.
Somewhere she heard a voice so real that it made her turn around then throw open the bathroom door to peer into the bedroom and the hallway to the living room.
Love is Crazy, it's not sane, Hannah, it's not logical. But it is real.
"Mama?" Hannah whimpered as she gazed into the empty living room, "Mama?" Holding tight to the gold locket around her neck she hurriedly ran her thumb over it. A week before her tenth birthday, she'd been sewing a quilt with her mother and asked her how she'd know when she was in love. Mama had said that love was crazy, it wasn't sane, it wasn't logical, but it was real and
You'll know it when your heart beats faster than a hummingbird's wings.
Every time she saw Nick or talked to him on the phone, even when she sent him emails on her vacation and then waited for his reply, her heart beat so rapidly she thought it would burst in her chest. That was at least as fast as hummingbird's wings. "I think I love him, Mama," she whispered to no one, "how do I know if he loves me?"
To that, there was no ghostly answer as it wasn't a topic they'd discussed that day as they sat quilting outside, under the big oak tree, in the bright sunshine.