The Case of the Accidental Writer by Gabriel Valjan

  I call myself an accidental writer because I’m not one of those authors who wrote their first novel with crayons. Personal circumstances forced my fingers to tickle the keyboard. There were signs, though, that I was destined for a love affair with words. Elements were there. As an only child, I read books to combat loneliness. I read above my age group. I excelled at what was then called—in the Seventies—Language Arts. A teacher infected me with the addiction to mysteries when she supplied me ...