Who is Mason Bell?

I started kindergarten late, unable to read. Sure, Grover taught me to identify letters and The Count-my numbers, but what did they even mean, really? Climbing trees in my old neighborhood’s Victory Gardens and eating their fresh fruit was all this free-willed child needed.

Writing teachers pleaded with my mother to read to me each night.

In my small-town elementary school, most of my teachers understood this primal drive for freedom. Still, they worried about my long-term academic career. Writing teachers pleaded with my mother to read to me each night, hoping to improve my comma and verb usage. Didn’t happen. Who had time for that in the 80’s?

My parents encouraged me to stay outside and explore the world around me, often telling me my imagination would one day take over my common sense. My dad wasted no time in stoking my fears about family ghosts and invisible pets. I kept the invisible aspects, not so much the spirits of the afterlife.

For brevity, here’s a list of notable accomplishments that might be of interest:

• 2^nd Place Spelling Bee Winner, fifth-grade
• Best Effort Award for home economics, eighth-grade
• Historian Social Officer of my high-school dance team, twelfth-grade
• Member of Varsity University Rifle Team, freshman year

After college, I devoted myself to my family and numerous cats who shall not be named here. Putting my achievements into full force, I made cookies most days of the week and never sabotaged the kid’s English homework, though we read regularly. When they were small enough, I often grabbed the kids and danced around the house just to hear their contagious laughter.

Dinner was a time of wonder. Over a hockey puck chicken breast and mushy broccoli served by the home economics winner, we’d discuss our day spent at school or work. The conversation turned to what-ifs and silly ideas.

• What if you could hack your brain and gain instant knowledge?
• What if there was no money and everyone had their ideal job?
• What if aliens came to earth, and they morphed into the image of trees to study us?
• What if you could be a Jedi?

All good things end, and as the kids left the nest, seats at the dinner table grew cold. The house turned silent. As the family historian, I took to writing the best stories we’d fleshed out over the years. An outline here, a chapter there, led to writing character arcs and elaborate plots.

Over the years, the stories have moved far beyond our dining table into the big world. I hope they inspire and entertain kids of all ages.