“Would you learn novel-writing from an instructor who has never published a novel?” asks Mummy Lulu

Mummy Lulu plants an elbow on her desk and rests one side of her face on her palm. “Would you learn novel-writing from an instructor who has never published a novel?”    

I flick my gaze from the accoutrements in her study to her face.  “Why you ask?”

Kicking at the floor to slide sideways on her castored chair, Mummy Lulu picks up an apple from one end of her desk. “Here, have an apple; it’s a Washington apple.” She hands the apple to me.” She returns to her former spot at the typewriter. 

“I was searching for novel-writing instructors on the Internet and found several.” Her gaze captures mine. “But, odd, a few of them have never published any novels before.”

I sink my teeth into the apple. “Name them.”

“Naw, better not.” A scowl sharpens the lines on Mummy Lulu's face.  “I don’t want to scatter sand in their rice bowls.”

“A good writer does not necessarily make a good teacher; a good writing teacher isn’t necessarily a good writer.”

“Gee… I'm sceptical about what you say.” Mummy Lulu scratches the back of her head. “Tell me, why would a woman want to learn fellatio from a virgin nun?” She continues to batter the keys of her typewriter. 

My jaw goes slack. Bits of apple drop from my mouth. 

/end