Sorry to be late posting this week’s blog, for all those who wait breathlessly to read my
fabulous words. I know ideally we should have blogs written way ahead of time, but I tend to write mine the day I want to post. So, when early Monday morning I checked my email and found the final copy of my latest book, The Purloined Skull, waiting for a read through…well, there went the planned blog.
No matter how many books a writer gets published the current one is always so exciting. My schedule is very tight recently. As I get older I realize if I don’t write like crazy and get those books out there’s a chance I won’t make it through all of them. But recently I’ve also figured out that I won’t get them all written anyway. Yet I can’t slow down.
So when this book came in for final edits, I was finishing my edits on another book which I want to get off to the publisher before the holidays.
I am so excited about this latest book. It’s my very first published mystery and the beginning
of a series. Cocky, aren’t I? Thinking I can write a series while working on other books racing around through my head. I have a cover and a blurb from none other than Christopher Allan Poe, who liked the book a lot and said Oak Tree Press was smart to have contracted it. Yes, he’s a descendant of Edgar Allan Poe. All the titles of this series will be a play on Poe titles, such as the first one, The Purloined Skull (The Purloined Letter is Poe’s title if you hadn’t guessed.) I’ll have to be really clever to twist each of his titles to fit the book, or vice versa.
Did you know?
Shortly after the first printing of Poe’s detective story “The Purloined Letter” in October 1844 in the anthology The Gift, the story was reprinted in abridged form in Chamber’s Edinburgh Journal. In the absence of an international copyright law, Poe was not paid for this printing.
Here’s a short excerpt from The Purloined Skull, A dark romantic mystery, due out very soon.
Lying on the bed pillow was a piece of tablet paper. The kind they once used in grade school with the wide lines on it. There were letters, words, scrawled on it, but she couldn’t read them. Her eyes went wildly out of focus, blurred by a kind of horror she’d known before. Frozen in place, she stood there a moment, hands cupped over her mouth, pitiful sounds erupting from deep within her.
Hold on tight. Don’t scream. Don’t let go. Don’t let the terror loose again.
Naked. She wasn’t dressed. The shades open. She scrambled to the floor, put the bed between her and the window. Hunkered there, heart thumping so fast and hard she couldn’t breathe.
Someone had been in her house, in her bedroom, on her bed.
Touching . . . touching her sheets. Vile body sitting where she slept.
Dear God, it was starting all over again.
She had no idea how long she remained in the evening shadows of her bedroom before she summoned enough courage to read the words on the paper.
I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LEAVE OR I’LL TELL
She bit her lip and choked on a scream that ran from her mouth in dribbles. She dare not close her eyes, for then she would see Steve’s face, twisted with hate, telling her she’d better run far, far away or he would find her and pay her back for what she’d done. She would never forget it, nor her betrayal. Never. How could she forget that her foolishness and desire for a story had caused the end of her own career and destroyed the man she loved? Caused him to hate her with a caustic savagery.
Want to know more about Edgar Allan Poe?