David Bush

I suppose, looking back, that I enjoyed a typical boyish childhood during every daylight minute…sports, camping, fishing, pulling pigtails of yucky girls, etc. When my exhausted head hit the pillow each night, a transformation occurred similar to Superman ripping open his crisp button-up shirt, or Zorro donning his mask as I reached for the book on my nightstand.

As far back as I can remember I have loved to read. Books brought energy into my young life. Sluggish synapses that failed to function during mind-numbing chores such as folding clothes or washing dishes would spark and pop when I dove into a paperback.

My undeveloped brain marveled at mysteries from Encyclopedia Brown, Alvin Fernald, and The Three Investigators. During energetic neighborhood football games, my actions attempted to mirror those of pigskin heroes, namely Pittsburgh Steelers legends Terry Bradshaw, “Mean” Joe Greene, Franco Harris, and Rocky Bleier, all of whom I had scrutinized in their autobiographies.

I don’t remember the exact age when my parents declared (with a degree of surprise and shock) that I had matured enough to engage in The Hardy Boys and Louis L’Amour novels. From that moment my world exploded in a thousand imaginary directions.

Perhaps my first deep respect for good writing sprouted in a creative writing class during my freshman year in college. I recall struggling over description and setting, languishing over the perfect words to paint the picture rattling around in my head. How in the world do these masterful authors teleport readers into scenes they can hear, feel and taste? I remember my professor clearing his throat at the front of the class and reading a portion of what he called ‘excellent writing’…from my short story. A strange, exciting feeling.

That moment faded as college became busier and my career in mechanical engineering launched. I’ve long forgotten what inspired the topic of my first book in the midst of my career: a Christian coming-of-age adventure novel starring me as the main character, with high school and college friends as support cast. I hid in the basement, furious fingers clacking at the keyboard, wishing I had paid more attention in that freshman writing class. Action, mystery, spies, death, romance…oh, I wove them all into a horrible, point-of-view-shifting, sloppy, third-grade-grammar nightmare that would have caused an editor to develop an eye twitch.

I decided to boldly share this astonishing creation with everyone I could think of…as an anonymous author. I created a secret email account using my character’s name from the book. Then I emailed it to everyone I knew, one chapter per week.

The responses ranged from, “Hey, this is really good. Who are you?” to, “Please do not ever email me again.” Over the next few years the writing bug continued to plague me. I hammered out another half a dozen books, each one bringing a strong sense of creative satisfaction, regardless of the lack of polish and skill.

I attended my first Christian writers’ conference, showing up as a tight bundle of nerves, but overjoyed to bump into a college friend whose mom was also writing a book. This friend—out of respect for his privacy I shall simply call him Filthy Swine—doubled over laughing to the point of passing out when I told him I wanted to be an author.

As I climbed the corporate engineering ladder and engaged with a wife and three growing boys, my time for writing vanished. Sadly, although I didn’t realize it at the time, my reading time also diminished.

After twenty years of the rat race, we made a lifestyle decision to move back to Wyoming—a story for another time. I stepped down from project management to take positions as a contract engineer and a technical writer. The exposure to technical writing rekindled my author desires.

A few years ago, I began serious reflection over the topics of reading good books, appreciation of the writing craft, and a renewed feeling of gratitude. Long ago, those authors that swirled my imagination into a variety of worlds had also implanted a tiny seed that grew into a desire to pass that experience on to other readers.

So I wrote another book, began querying publishers and agents, and attended more conferences. Becoming a published author became my main focus, and it took two years to realize what a hollow goal it had become.

It was time to step back and regroup. Why exactly was I writing?

My brother, Dan, helped me peel back the layers of motivation until there was nothing left but pure joy in serving God with my writing. “Have fun and have faith,” he advised in his original uplifting credo. As a side note, Daniel C. Bush (Dan) has since launched his own teen adventure series inspired by his two daughters. Look into his books if you want clean adventure stories for your young girl readers.

In early 2022, I made the decision to abandon the traditional publishing route and instead, self-publish my first book, a futuristic Christian thriller. My public author journey officially began September 27, 2022 with the Amazon release of Beyond Chiliastic (ki-lē-‘a-stik), book one in a planned series.

This book is set at least a thousand years in the future in the city of Cheyenne, a massive metropolis of five hundred million. The protagonist is a resurrected warrior from the Old Testament, who teams up with a little girl on her own secret assignment from God. Staying loyal to my favorite genres growing up, it is filled with sword fighting, a decent body count, mystery, and a romantic thread.

After releasing book 2 in the Beyond Chiliastic series, I branched out into other genres (mystery/suspense and humorous outdoor adventure stories). They are bringing another level of creative joy into my life, and feedback has been encouraging.

I still reflect on those early years of reading and grin with excitement at the opportunity to pay that joy forward to others. I will do my best to provide clean, exciting books that engage, enrich, and encourage. If futuristic Christian thrillers, mystery/suspense, or funny outdoor stories are not your preferred genres, it’s okay. “Life is full of choices and opinions. Some people like artichokes.” (my readers will understand)