The Story of How Ken Foster Began Writing

We had a multi-family, multi-generation camping trip to “Lost Maples” state park in Texas.  Author’s comment: the layout of this park is used in one of my books; it’s up to the readers to determine which one.  While sitting around the campfire on the second night of our three night camp-out, my young grandkids began asking for a story.  None of the adults were able to come up with anything.  When it finally came to me again I decided to tell something but I didn’t know what to tell so I said “I’ll tell you a story but you have to choose what it’s about”.

The next comment came from my grandson, “tell us a ‘true story’ when you were my age”.

Now every grandfather knows the difference between a ‘true story’ that is based on facts and really happened and a ‘true story’ that is nothing but completely fabricated untruths (lies).  My ‘true stories’ were based on the untruth as I said, “When I was a little younger than you I was captured by the Indians.”

Of course the adults around the fire all began making comments.  Things were said like, “it’s getting deep now” or “I didn’t bring high enough boots for this”.  

Many more comments were made before I said something along the line of.  “Everyone was asked to tell a story but you all refused.  But when I start to tell a ‘true story’ you all have to make some comment.  If you don’t like my ‘true story’ then go to bed as I fully intend to tell my grandkids a ‘true story’ just like they asked me to.”

Once I had the floor again and noticing the look of excitement and expectation in the eyes of my grandkids I continued.  “As I said, when I was a little younger than you I was captured by the Indians.  They came in the night and took me right out of bed while I was sleeping.  I was taken away on horseback for many days.”

My grandson is a smart boy and quickly asked, “How many day’s”?

“I was so young I didn’t know how to count yet”, I quickly responded, then continued.  “These Indians taught me how to hunt and track.  But they did too good of a job and one night I slipped out of the camp.  I used every trick they taught me and got away but I didn’t know what direction to go to get home so I traveled south.”

“Grandpa how did you get home”?

“Well I’m coming to that”, I said then with a straight face and sincere tone added.  “My dad never gave up looking for me and heard about a lost boy, he traveled to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico and found me working as a professional cliff diver then took me home so I could be with my family again”.

Both grandkids were just eating this up while the adults around the campfire were trying not to fall out of their chairs laughing.  After several more stories that seemed even more embellished the grandkids went to bed.

The next time I went to visit my parents I told them about the camping trip and my ‘true stories’.  My mother said, “With an imagination like that you should write them down and sell them”.

Thus began my writing career.