Jeepers, Eve, I can’t help but picture you as Betty Noir, reading the book by a table lamp, leaning back in your chair and stretching your long silk-clad legs as you smoke cigarette after cigarette, waiting until daylight, when you can go the private eye and ask for help to find your “missing sister.”
Hey! Who’s this Betty dame and why is she using my name!!!
(I mean I know I have a cousin Film, and an aunt Blanc Et…)
I once won a Cornell Woolrich fellowship for creative writing–supposed to finance my writing career for a year. Would have, too (six months anyway) if I hadn’t bought a car with the $$$.
. . . and then you accidentally ran over the runner-up with that car and wound up in the electric chair, right?
What an imagination!