Bio


You’ll notice my tag line: “Purveyor of Fine Sentences.” I write sentences, not books. Someone once said that a writer’s job is to make good sentences and the rest will look after itself. So I try to make every sentence true and beautiful. As the sentences accumulate and start heading in a direction, books happen. (Maybe my website should be mikemasonsentences.com?)

This is not just a philosophy of writing but of life. It’s moments that count, more than the grand scheme. Live great moments and the rest will sort itself out.

My first great moment happened in 1952 when I came into the world in Peterborough, Canada. By age eleven I wanted to be a writer, and although I got many things wrong in life, one thing I got right was to hang onto the writing dream and pursue it single-mindedly. After earning an M.A. in English from the University of Manitoba, I spent my twenties doing odd jobs to support my writing, from garbage-collecting to journalism to library work.

In 1982 I married Karen, a family doctor. We spent our first year of marriage studying theology at Regent College in Vancouver, and we’ve lived in British Columbia ever since. We have one daughter, Heather, born in 1987, who is married to Sean and pursuing a dance career in Toronto.

In over three decades of writing, I’ve published half a dozen devotional books, three collections of short stories, and a pair of children’s fantasy novels. Currently I blog weekly and I’m working on a novel called Angels and Aliens.

Turning to novel-writing at age fifty has meant a radical change. In many ways I had to learn my craft all over again and work through many fears and insecurities. The result, however, is deeply satisfying, and now with more fiction on the way I have a renewed sense of challenge and joy in my work.

All in all I enjoy a simple life filled with family and friends, books, music, and prayer. And if you’re wondering about that photo on my Home Page of a little boy at a typewriter, it’s from a 1955 calendar. My mother saved it when I was three years old because she thought it looked like me. She had no idea back then that I would become a writer! And a rather bemused writer, at that. How often have I gazed off into space just like that kid, wondering where my next word was coming from…

 

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