411 on Books, Authors & Publishing

When did you know you were a writer?

Writing is like a virus. It gets into you when you’re small, and often you don’t even notice it. But it gradually spreads throughout your system, leaving no part of your life untouched.

My first act of creative fiction was committed in the third grade. It was a short story called, “The Mystery of Salary Swamp,” and it featured pencil drawings of people that looked more turtle-ish than human, had zero character development, and an ending you could see coming from the first paragraph. Still…it was a start. Oh, there was also, somewhere between pages three and four, a recipe for cinnamon toast. That was there for two reasons: first, I knew how to make cinnamon toast; and second, because Patti Duke had written a story on her TV show, and had included a recipe. Imitation is the highest form of flattery. You’re welcome, Patti.

I don’t remember if the story was a school assignment or not—probably not. But I did show it to my teacher, Mr. Vanasaker. He was impressed. So were my folks. I remember thinking, “That wasn’t hard, and I got a lot of good feels from it. Let’s do that again.” So I did. And again. And again.

In other words, I got bit. My best friend Mickey was also a writer, and in seventh grade we were in neck-to-neck competition for a school-wide writing contest. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that one of us was going to win it—but just which of us would was anyone’s guess. In my heart, I knew that Mickey was the more accomplished writer, and that my little story didn’t hold a candle to his. His characters sounded like grown-ups. Mine sounded like a kid trying to sound like a grown-up. That’s a big difference.

Yet, something about my story must have had some charm, because the contest ended in a tie. This eliminated any hard feelings, but didn’t settle the score between Mickey and I. Even in junior college, when we went on a European tour together, Mickey and I were competitive about our trip diaries.

But real life intervened. I became a magazine editor, and later a pastor and a teacher. Writing went on the back burner. I wrote articles now and then, but nothing major. Then I realized that there was no appropriate textbook for the graduate studies program I was putting together. If my students were going to have what they needed, I would have to write it. So I did. I wrote more textbooks, and many of them are in use in graduate programs around the country.

Encouraged, I had an idea for a novel that just wouldn’t let me go. So I wrote The Kingdom. And you know what? It kicked my ass. Finishing that damned novel was the hardest thing I have ever done. Seriously, climbing Everest would have been a piece of cake by comparison. Dental surgery without anesthesia would be nothing compared to this. But I kept at it, and three years after I began, it was done.

I was exhausted. I didn’t write another word for six months. But then I wrote a Christmas novel, What Child is This? Then I wrote a sequel to The Kingdom, The Power. Somewhere along the way, with every finished novel, it got easier. I no longer collapse in a heap when novel is finished. Instead, I don’t miss a beat. I finish one novel and start the next one the very next day.

I have now finished eight novels, and have outlines for about four more. The only thing I regret is that I don’t have time to write as much as I want to! So yeah, I got infected with the writing bug in third grade, and it has now snowballed into a full-blown chronic condition. I can manage it, but I don’t think I’ll ever be rid of it. And I don’t think I want to be.

For a free short story in the Berkeley Blackfriars universe, download The Demon Bunny of Ipswich. For more on The Kingdom and the Berkeley Blackfriars, visit J.R. Mabry’s website at http://www.jrmabry.com.