From A Wrinkle in Time to a Life of Stories: My Journey As a Writer

In third grade, I took a test that placed me in an advanced science class. A few weeks into the course, the teacher noticed my enthusiasm for science, particularly its speculative aspects. He took me to the school library and pulled out a book from the shelves: A Wrinkle in Time by Madame L’Engle. I devoured it. It was a novel that used speculative science as the foundation for an exhilarating plot. I was hooked. I progressed to reading classic science fiction authors such SS Heinlein, Asimov, Clarke, and others. (My choice of reading material also made me the target of ridicule from done. I suppose today it would be called “bullying.” I viewed it as a rite of passage: learning to be myself in the face of obstacles in the different is not always bad.)

I had read extensively before that pivotal moment, but my reading choices lacked direction: children’s books, aviation literature, American football, the backs of cereal boxes at breakfast. I read under the covers with a flashlight at night, defying my bedtime rules.

With science fiction, I discovered a genre that truly captivated my imagination. My parents, always supportive of my unconventional interests, surprised me with a subscription to the Science Fiction Book Club. Every month, I eagerly anticipated the arrival of a brand new book.

When I was twelve, I asked for a typewriter as a Christmas gift. After exchanging a puzzled glances, my parents replied, “We’ll see.” A few weeks later, on Christmas morning, a brand-new Corona Selectric was under the tree. Excitedly, I began writing—science fiction, of course. I started with short stories, some of which I even sent to magazines, only to receive rejection letter after rejection. Undeterred, I decided to try writing novels, though I never managed to complete the first draft of any of those early attempts.

In high school, one of my friends introduced me to the first volume of Tolkien’s “The Lord of the Rings.” The bold themes and exceptional world-building captivated me. I discovered a new genre that I loved. I soon realized that I didn’t enjoy just any science fiction or fantasy. There were some that I could not finish (although my personality drove me to finish almost everything I started).

Many years later, I would come to understand that the novels I cherished were, in some way, what I would now categorize as “literary art.” Fiction that “rediscovers, generation by generation, what is essential to humanity” (John Gardner, On Moral Fiction). Storytelling that grapples with profound ideas that life presents to us. I don’t mean narratives that moralize or preach. I wouldn’t call those “art” (although they may possess artistic qualities). This is because they solely use fiction to impart a moral lesson—a narrative serves as the vehicle. Literary art presents a story that stands on its own as entertainment, but has a deeper level that invites the reader to contemplate the human experience, condition, or philosophy. It could be suffering, love, a moral dilemma, the meaning of sacrifice or hardship, perseverance, or scenarios where justice for some results in injustice for others. It might explore the concept of equality in unusual circumstances. The list is indefinite.

“The traditional view is that true art is moral: it seeks to improve life, not debase it. It seeks to hold off, at least for a while, the twilight of the gods and us. I do not deny that art, like criticism, may legitimately celebrate the trifling. It may joke, or mock, or while away the time. But trivial art has no meaning or value except in the shadow of more serious art, the kind of art that beats back the monsters and, if you will, makes the world safe for triviality. That art which tends toward destruction, the art of nihilists, cynics, and merdistes, is not properly art at all. Art is essentially serious and beneficial, a game played against chaos and death, against entropy. It is a tragic game, for those who have the wit to take it seriously, because our side must lose; a comic game—or so a troll might say—because only a clown with sawdust brains would take our side and eagerly join in.” (John Gardner, On Moral Fiction).

Such literary works don’t necessarily provide answers. In fact, I believe they shouldn’t. Growth comes from grappling with complex issues or confronting profound concepts on our own—not from someone spoon-feeding us the solution. Literature serves as a catalyst, offering prompts and nudging us towards an examination philosophical or moral dilemmas.

Once I discovered my preference for literature with those characteristics, it was only natural for me to delve into the classics. This journey led me to contemporary bestsellers and award-winning works such as Pulitzer Prize winning novels, Hugo Award winners, and so on. This literary exploration had a profound impact on my writing, prompting me to experiment with various styles and genres.

To clarify, I do not dismiss fiction as mere entertainment. I enjoy reading Marvel Comics and other modern works that provide escapism and enjoyment. These forms serve a distinct yet valid purpose, complementing the literary art. And even those can often include some elements of the human condition, character development, and moral dilemmas. (In the Marvel films, the character of Tony Stark goes from a self-absorbed genius playboy to a responsible partner, team member, and sacrificial hero.)

As an adult, my life and education led me into academia (first with a PhD in ancient history and religion, and then with a law degree). This meant more reading and writing, but in the form of nonfiction. My mentors recognized my interest in the written word and encouraged me to pursue a career in editing for journals and publishers. I continued my own writing, but it gradually shifted towards academic and non-academic nonfiction. Occasionally, I would write a bit of fiction, but my time was increasingly consumed by writing, editing, and teaching. As a result, my reading pace of fiction took a back seat.

However, my passion for fiction refused to be relegated to a secondary role. As a professor, I soon realized that most individuals learn more effectively through stories rather than lectures. I incorporated this concept into my teaching and writing endeavors.

With the challenging job market for tenure-track positions in academia, even though part-time teaching was abundant in colleges and universities, I had the time to pursue editing of other authors’ works, particularly in the fiction genre. This lead me to begin reading fiction once more in earnest.

Reading fiction, just as it did for that young boy, inspired me to write fiction more frequently. While working on my first serious novel, To and Fro Upon the Earth, I discovered an excitement in telling stories rather than only declaring knowledge (as in academia). I found myself drawn to showing rather than teaching, to creating rather than dissembling— as a way of helping readers think through those issues of intellectual curiosity, if they choose to do so. Otherwise, I am happy if they only enjoy a good story.

I find meaning in addressing issues of the human condition and hope in the possibility that it can lead my readers to struggle with those issues in their own manner. As my readers know, I especially enjoy exploring the concept of chaos in life, culture, and history. How do we deal with chaos?(Because it comes to us all eventually, sometimes with a vengeance, sometimes from the outside, and sometimes because of our own doings.)

After To and Fro Upon the Earth was published, I began working on a historical fiction manuscript that I had begun over ten years earlier (Onesimus: A Novel of Christianity in the Roman Empire). The subsequent years found me writing two collections of short stories (The Sky Over Chaos, So Deep in Shadow), a science fiction novel based on gene editing and bio engineering (Mortals As They Walk), and a four year project of historical fiction based on the life of the man who Founded Desert Center, California in 1921 when there were no roads through the desert (Nuff Sed: A Novel of Desert Steve). A third collection of short stories will be published in the coming weeks (As a Mere Breath), and the first volume in a trilogy at the end of this year (Seven Planets).

A small seed planted by an elementary school science teacher years ago blossomed into a fulfilling and successful career in writing and freelance editing. Life, after all, can be like that. We plant seeds, nurture them, and influence the lives of others (often without realizing our impact), just as that teacher did for me. I strive to do the same for others. I

In this manner, we can become an integral part of the creation of our own narratives, intertwining our threads with those of others, thereby weaving the tapestry that constitutes our lives.

The shared experience that unfolds on the loom of life is what imparts literary fiction with its profound power.