My mom used to ask us that with a hand cocked on her hip, peering into our wide-eyed faces. Naturally, the blame trickled down to the youngest one, me. Being from a family with four generations of lawyers and legislators, I developed the skill of building my defense before I spoke. My parents were fair judges. Sometimes I got off with a light sentence.
On endless nature walks through the Texas Hill Country, Dad taught us keen observational skills. We learned to detect where a deer had traipsed in the moonlight or a beetle laid eggs under a fern leaf. I became a keen observer of nature, and later, human nature. So sleuthing is part of my DNA.
Though I now absorb mysteries whenever I get the chance, I never could get into Nancy Drew books. I didn't want to read about her. I wanted to be her.
Adult life told me to get real. I complied...for decades. I raised a family and worked as a medical insurance appealer, which still involved sleuthing and developing a case to get our claims paid. On the hour commute to and from home in the burbs, I’d develop plots in my head.
Then, life became way too real. Widowed in my fifties, I had to fill the silence of my evenings. I've never been very craft-sy, so I shook my story-telling brain cells awake, let them capture my keyboard, and crafted mysteries and suspense as well as devotionals and inspirational works. Now, as well as a writer for several publications, I am also an editor with two publishing companies.
I think I have finally begun to be who God has been molding me to be all my life. That, to me, is the biggest and most wonderful mystery of all!