Welcome to my Website

If you are not familiar with my books, that is quite understandable. According to Prairie Home Companion author and humorist, Garrison Keillor, I am one of those who fit into a literary category he humorously describes as “the 18 million self-published authors in America, each with 14 readers, eight of whom are blood relatives and have average annual earnings of $1.75.”

Keillor light-heartedly laments that self-publishing marks the end of an era in book publishing, along with its tortured geniuses. I don’t argue with some of his facts, but I do take humble (if I do say so myself) exception to his seeming position that only celebrated writers have the right to take satisfaction from their writing efforts.

Although I spent my business career as a traveling salesman in the least known, but most commonly used medium of advertising (promotional products) in this country, my outside interest has always been writing. I have not written and self-published any of my books with the expectation of actually making a profit, although that would be welcome. Each of my stories wanted to be told, although for different reasons.

For example, in the process of writing my second novel—The Foursome—research led me to read the Bible through in order to intellectually understand the born-again faith of the story’s believer. In that process God revealed Himself to me (see my Personal Testimony page). Thus, at age fifty-eight I had begun following a calling to write Christian books exclusively, mostly novels with genres ranging from  faith and marriage to historical fiction and even science fiction; not to mention that sporting genre of young and old alike, golf.

I obviously derive great pleasure in writing for the fourteen readers Garrison Keillor imagines buys each of any given self-published writer’s books, and I invite you to be one of those astute few! Certainly, Keillor’s “tortured American genius writers”  will not be in danger of having to share in their martyrdom! Between you and me, however, I am willing to bet there is at least one would-be writer in Keillor’s imaginative Lake Wobegon who is aching to share with his family and a dozen friends a written and self-published tale about the record Walleyed Pike he nearly caught and ate.

Terry Dodd