Mrs. Middlejoy came to me on a walk. I had been trying to write a murder mystery, mostly because I love reading them.
But the story wasn’t going well. It was predictable, trite. I had tried to setting it in my home town, and I could imagine the embarrassment of my high school friends, seeing the mash-up of characters from my high school years, and cringing in pity at my effort.
Walking along, I started thinking about what I had enjoyed reading as a girl. My thoughts often stray to a book that had transported me to another world, Mistress Masham’s Repose, by T. H. White.
To be continued…