Guest: Ericka Scott on Writing and Postcards from the Dead

First of all, I want to thank Alice for giving me this opportunity to blather on and on about myself. I’ll try not to bore you…but if I drone on too long, just skip to the excerpt~ 🙂

I had the honor of sharing about 8 weeks of madness with Alice and hundreds of other wonderful romance writers last fall during Avon Fanlit. In the end, there were only a few dozen of us left, but I blame ALL of you for turning me to the “dark” side …and “turning me on” to writing erotic romantic suspense.

But it really started about 10 years earlier than 2006 when I  read a book, threw it against the wall and cried, “Surely I could write a better book than that.” 

So, I tried.

And you know, it’s harder than it looks. As a result, I have several unfinished manuscripts on my hard drive that will NEVER see the light of day. I had no clue how to plot, develop characters, or anything. So, I bought some craft books and began reading…then writing a little…reading some more…writing a bit more. Finally, I turned out a short story.

Well, writing it was fun, but I wanted to be published. That, too, was harder than it looked. Researching markets took time and effort, submitting to those markets took patience and persistence, and required me to buy a really big box in which to store all the rejection letters!

And I still hadn’t managed to write a novel.

 My longest short story was somewhere around 5000 words and my longest novel was somewhere around…yep, you guessed it, around 5000 words! But I had learned a lot and wanted to try my hand at longer works…

I’m not even sure HOW I stumbled upon the Avon Fanlit contest in the fall of 2006. (Although, I must admit that even today the mention of Patience, Damien, Jonathon, pots of chocolate, feathers, and lightning gives me flashbacks of the agony and the ecstasy of the zero bandits and the five-star fairy!) I would like to thank Avon Fanlitters everywhere for their honest (albeit sometimes harsh) comments.  You all taught me so much…especially to have faith in myself.

It was through networking with this wonderful group of women that I discovered the e-book market and the rest, as you could say, was history. Crystal Clear (Cobblestone Press), The Werewolf Whisperer (published by the nearly defunct StarDust Press) and my latest, Postcards from the Dead, have been the result of my learning to write longer by writing shorter (i.e., novella-length) works.

Here’s an excerpt from Postcards from the Dead, coming from Cobblestone Press on 10/5/07 

Postcards from the Dead

Coming from Cobblestone Press on 5 October 2007

Excerpt

“I got a postcard from Rick.” Cassandra Moore started to hand the card across the table to her sister, Rosalie Hopkins. When a sudden breeze whipped a napkin off the small table they occupied outside her favorite lunch café, she tightened her hold on the card.

“Maybe we should sit inside for a change.” Rosalie pulled a hair band off her wrist and, with practiced ease, twisted it into her long red hair.

For once, Cassie was glad of her short mop of hair. No matter how hard the wind blew, it always looked the same. Curly. And no, she didn’t want to go inside. She liked sitting outside watching people stream by so busy and full of life.

Rosalie snatched the card out of Cassie’s fingers and read it with distaste. “This is a joke, right?”

“I don’t think so. It’s like all the others.” Cassie squirmed and couldn’t quite meet Rosalie’s gaze. Of course this postcard was just like the others. Why wouldn’t it be? But, was it really? The other postcards were all from decedents residing at the Coroner’s office where she worked as the personal property supervisor, whereas her husband, Rick, had been dead two years this coming Halloween.

“There’s only an address on it. Does it look like Rick’s handwriting?” Rosalie handed the card back across the table.

Cassie hedged. “I haven’t compared it yet.” Of course she had, she’d run straight to her nightstand, and pulled out several of Rick’s love letters from when they were dating. The script had been close but it lacked something. The writing didn’t seem as aggressive or forceful as Rick’s had been. But then, he was dead now, wasn’t he? That must have had some affect on his handwriting.

“Did you go to the address?” Rosalie persisted.

“Not yet. I was hoping you would come with me.” Cassie took one last look at the postcard. Granted, the basket of kittens on the front of the postcard was not Rick’s style. While tucking it away in her purse, she noticed Rosalie shaking her head.

Rosalie wrinkled her nose, and shrugged. “I promised Kyle I wouldn’t get involved with any of this. I’m sorry.”

“What? You told Kyle?” Cassie felt cold all over. Her sister had promised never to tell anyone. What if other people found out? “How could you?”

“Well, since we’re getting married in July, I couldn’t keep it a secret from him. Besides, he thought it was kind of cool.”

Cool? She wasn’t sure she’d use that description. Downright creepy was the feeling she’d gotten two years ago when it started. Oh, sure, there were television shows galore portraying mediums who talked to the dead. But did any of them get postcards? No, not a one.

Cassie leaned across the table. “You told him not to tell anyone else, didn’t you?”

“Oh, of course he knows it’s a secret,” Rosalie said. But from the expression on her sister’s face, Cassie wasn’t so sure.

End of Excerpt

Again, thank you Alice for hosting me on your blog. I wish you, and Avon Fanlitters everywhere, success with your writing careers — I’m your biggest fan!