Caleb Franklin

My story as an author is a strange one: My mother tells me that I began reading fluently at an unusually young age, but looking at my young life, one would have understandable trouble believing it. I plowed through elementary school with passing grades, an awkward personality, and little promise in the writing department, save some incredibly embarrassing self-insert fanfictions (sorry for making you grade those, Jim).

Through high school, I took up free-hand sketching and developed a bit of skill in that area. I also began to test my mettle in worldbuilding alongside my best friend, working with him to create a world where our Victorian/gothic/science fiction/alien/space-odyssey artwork could live. The seeds of Archaea were planted there during our late-night drawing sessions, and for two years, we built it up, created backstories for our drawings, and developed a rudimentary history for our world that came to span a galaxy of its own. I loved this world and its characters, but for another four years, it would remain strictly conceptual.

I attended college in hopes of becoming a history teacher, and as I studied the great dramas of ages past, the grand inquiries, despicable treacheries, and myriad shades of complexities which drove our world’s timeless heroes and infamous villains, the characters embedded in my subconscious through years of casual development grew in depth. It was not long before they wanted to show themselves.

My first honest attempt at a novel -initially titled “The Doomed Emperor of Golden Archaea”- was… ambitious to say the least: starring eight protagonists in five intertwining storylines, all bound together through the actions of a half-dozen interrelated antagonists. This new hobby ate at my sleep and social life, grew with time, and by my third year of higher education had developed into something resembling an obsession.

However, I soon came to realize that ambition alone could not produce success: I needed a plan, not just vague ideas, lightly defined characters, and a storyline entirely stored in my head. My disheveled attempts to create a mid-story timeline convinced me that I had, in my hubris, bitten off far more than I could chew; there was too much, far too much to put in one story, and no way to remedy some growing foundational errors without a reboot. So, about 45,000 words into my first novel, I scrapped the original concept and restarted, choosing to cut out the less intriguing characters and split the story into several books.

Two years later, my first complete novel, “Templar of Archaea,” was born. It took six drafts, and more than five years of teaching myself how to break free of the tedious writing methods taught in school, but positive feedback and support from my family kept me going, and I have to say, I am proud of my work thus far and am already making my foray into several sequels.

Being self-taught in the art of creative writing, with middle school being a lonely exception (sorry again, Jim), I would like to think that I bring my own unique flair and style to the writing industry. Tolkien or Lewis, I am not…yet anyway. But if I continue to learn, better my talents, hone the craft, and push myself, perhaps I can create my own beautiful world where others can escape, witness the Truth in Beauty, and perhaps learn a thing or two in the process about our own confusing world.

When I reflect on my authorial development, I cannot help but raise a cynical eyebrow. I followed no authors, took no classes, and was tutored by no one. I teach high school history and perform caretaking jobs to pay the bills. I should not be able to write professionally.

Yet here I am…

So, enjoy, and keep an eye out for the sequels, for I have much more to say.