Goodreads asked Timandra Whitecastle:

What mystery in your own life could be a plot for a book?

Timandra Whitecastle I don't have too many mysteries in my life (that might be a reason why I love making them up). But here's a little story that's true and could be a plot for a book, I guess - just not a book written by me :)

My parents separated just after I was born, and were divorced before I turned two. Since my mother is German and my father English, we stayed in Germany while he returned to his country.

Years passed, and my mother re-married, had other children, and I slowly grew aware of the fact that my stepdad wasn't my real dad, though he was the only dad I knew.

My granma had kept some photos of my parent's wedding, and on a few of the pictures of me as a baby, there was this man holding the tiny infant - a man on photos who looked like me but I didn't know.

My mother told me stories about my real dad when I was old enough to ask questions. Scary stories. Made up ones - conflicting with each re-telling. As a teenager, you question most things your parents tell you, but growing up with the awareness that your mother is outrightly lying to your face does things to your malleable mind.

When I turned 18, I still had never heard a word of my real father, but I started to search for him anyway. I wanted to know where I come from. My stepfamily is the most loving, welcoming, awesomest family I know - but ... when people saw pictures taken of my stepsiblings and me, they immediately saw the familial bonds between my sister and brother, and then ... 'who's that girl? The one with the long face and glasses?'

In fairy tales, the eldest sister is never the one who gets the fairy tale ending. I wanted to know, for better or for worse, who I am.

But I had difficulty finding my father. I called a lot of registry offices in England, round about where he used to live, where his parents used to live ... but got little in actual results. Years passed. I made efforts, again and again, even found an address online, wrote a letter - it came back unopened. Recipient unknown.

Yeah, my problem exactly. Story of my life.

Until two years ago ... out of the blue, my mother sent me a private message over Facebook. Attached, a link to a Facebook profile: this is your father, was all she wrote.

Now - the shock. Could I believe her? It seemed like the truth for a change. And what to do with this information? I hadn't known this man, hadn't met him for over thirty years. And suddenly I had the means of direct communication. What should I say? What would he think of me? Did he even? Who knew?

After a few weeks, I plucked up the courage and wrote him a short message over Facebook...

I'm so glad.

I have two fathers now, my stepdad and my real one. The latter made me who I am by being who he is; and the other made me who I am by giving me all his books to read. I am indebted and grateful to both.

And that, children, is the story of How I Met My Father.

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