~ Telling the Truth, Mainly
Something I wish I knew how to do
I’d like to be fluent in Spanish: read, write, converse.
If I’d applied myself in college–found someone to speak with–I could be. I could read and write it and had a good accent. One of my professors suggested a major.
But I didn’t develop an ear for the spoken language and had visions of failing every upper-level course I took.
I didn’t believe in myself.
Confidence–a severe lack of–made the difference.
from Ink-Stained Wretches and Austin Mystery Writers
by Kathy Waller
George Woodstock received the peculiar phone call on his sixty-sixth birthday. . . He let the phone ring twice, then answered, “Woodstock Machine Shop.”
It was Helen’s voice. “Clara called, George.”
“Where is she?”
“Your sister. She’s out at Woodstock where she always is. Your papa has escaped from the nursing home.” . . .
“What in the hell does escaped mean? Did you ask any questions? . . . Have they put up a fence for patients to climb over? Or did he tunnel out? Did he wound any guards? I thought Papa was in a nursing facility.”
“Please don’t be snotty, George. I’m only telling you what Clara said. I said you’d call back.”
According to Best Mystery Novels, mysteries must meet certain criteria: there must be a puzzle; a detective or protagonist who sets out to solve the puzzle; suspects; clues; red…
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Kathy Waller 