So I'm not a Mystery writer.

It turns out, you need to do a lot more planning than I currently do if you want to write a decent mystery novel. If you just fly by the seat of your pants (as I am attempting to do for NaNo), you end up with thought processes like the following:

OOoo! Thurman totally needs to find a clue now! This would be a really great time for him to get a new bit of information on the dude with amnesia! Except, well, I don't know who the dude with amnesia actually is... So I guess I can put some sort of clue there? And maybe make dude end up doing/being something that fits with the clue? Or something...?


Yeah. So. The mystery novel remains a mystery, even to me!

NaNooooooooooo

Broke 30k. Sleep now.

An unexpected twist

“You said he woke up on the steps of the church this morning?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Thurman replied.

“Did he say when?”

“Between eight-thirty and nine o’clock,” the investigator replied. “He came to my office almost immediately following that.”

“Odd...” she said.

“What’s odd?” Thurman pressed.

“Well,” she said, “I always come in to work at eight o’clock, and there was no one on the front steps of the church at that time. Unless he fell asleep on the steps very briefly around eight-thirty, that doesn't make any sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Thurman agreed, frowning. “None at all. Hmmm... Well, thank you, ma’am, for your assistance. You’ve been helpful. If you can think of anything else, please, don’t hesitate to call me.” He passed her a business card.

“I will, Mr. Woodfin,” she replied, tucking the card into her desk drawer as the investigator left.


**I wrote it, but I totally didn't see it coming!**

There is something
about yarn...
it's so natural, so available,
yet so uniquely able to become
anything and everything you
can dream of...
I've seen
food made of
yarn...
a car cover...
a tea cozy...
a house cozy...
a toddler's sweater...
ladies' negligee...

It can be soft and
delicate, like baby alpaca...
it can be rough and
tough, like pure wool...
it can be
fake and acrylic...
or all-natural and
eco-friendly...
it can inspire
creativity...
or lust...
just look at your
stash - you can see both...

and you can see more...

you can see

possibility...

what will I make next?

A story to be told

*This is from the IME*

Once upon a time, there was a story that wanted to be told. It was a picky story, though, and it didn't want to be told by just anyone. It wanted a good story-teller. It wanted someone who would make it sound fun and exciting! It wanted someone who would be able to share it with the whole world! So the story floated around, watching for that special someone, the someone to bring it to life. It found adventure writers who might make it sound fun and exciting. It found popular writers who might be able to share it with the whole world. Still, the story wasn't happy with any of these choices...

So the story kept on looking, until one day, if cound a special someone. She wasn't a famous novelist. She wasn't a journalist. She had never taken an English course after high school. None of that mattered, though, because the story knew she would be the perfect one to tell it. So the story stopped floating around, and climbed into the special someone's head. Her eyes lit up. Picking up her needles and a new ball of yarn, the special someone began knitting the story. It was now a very happy story.

Oh, the political incorrectness of it...

“I woke up this morning outside of St. Joseph’s Church. I didn’t remember much of anything... I still don’t think I remember yesterday at all,” he said, frowning.

“Mmm-hmm,” Thurman said, writing something down. “Veryy interesting. Tell me, do you remember anything from the day before yesterday?”

“No. I don't remember anything before waking up this morning,” Mr. Smith told him.

“Did you remember St. Joseph’s Church, or did you have to read it on the sign?” Thurman asked.

“Why does that matter?” Mr. Smith asked.

“Please, just answer the question," Thurman said.

The man sighed and thought about it for a minute. “I remembered it. I don’t think I even looked at the sign. I just recognized the church.”

“Good!” Thurman replied, sounding excited as he made a note on his pad.

“Why is that good?” the man asked.

“It means that you're familiar with the area,” Thurman explained. “You’re either from around Macon, or you spend a lot of time here... Or you’re Catholic. Do you feel Catholic?”

“I don’t know,” Mr. Smith said. “What does a Catholic feel like?”

“Umm... Probably pretty guilty,” Thurman said, “But not as guilty as a Jew listening to his mother.”

That's news to me

Still, there must have been something in young Sara Aebli that caught Madame Treabhar’s attention, because she offered the girl a job. Nothing glamorous - just a janitorial job. But it gave Aebli something to do, someplace to be, and a source of income, small though it might be. Aebli had been suspicious - no one did things for nothing, at least not in her experience - but she needed the money, so she accepted. After all, who else would give a job to a girl who hadn’t finished high school and lived on the streets?

**Huh. Didn't expect that background for the character!**