Tim Wildmon

AFA president

September 1998 – I don’t talk about it much, but back in the early ’70s I was a victim of child labor exploitation. In fact, what was done to me may have violated some child labor laws. My younger sister Angela was also victimized. You see our dad wrote and self-published inspirational books back then to supplement his pay as a minister and his distribution center was located in the parsonage dining room at 1411 Van Buren Street in Tupelo. Dad did most of the work, but Angela and I were his two “employees.”

When the books would arrive from the printer they would come separated from an attractive small box which was used to enclose the book. What Dad would have us do is stuff the books into the boxes. Here is where the possible violation of child labor laws comes into play. Our wages were – and you really should be sitting down for this – one penny for each four boxes we stuffed. You read that right. If we wanted to see a quarter our little paper-cut hands would have to place 100 books into boxes. Looking back, I’d say Dad had a good thing going. He had two workers with no excuse for being late, no 401K savings to contribute to and a couple of little kids who worked all day just so they could ride their bikes down to the drug store and buy a Butterfinger and Coke. We could have started a union I guess, but who knew? Besides, we didn’t make enough to pay our union dues anyway.

Writing has always been a part of my life. A lot of people don’t know that before Dad began American Family Association in 1977 he wrote 18 books which sold over 500,000 copies. He also wrote a newspaper column called “Whatsoever Things” which was carried in many newspapers across the country. Most of his writings were short stories, each with an interesting twist. Kind of like Paul Harvey’s “Rest of the story” radio commentaries, except with a spiritual point.

LikeDad, I too enjoy the written word. I enjoy reading and I enjoy writing. Mostly short stories. I think it has something to do with my own personal attention span. Which is somewhat short.

A couple of years ago I began to roll around the idea of writing a book. Alison, my wife, suggested that I put a collection of short humorous stories into manuscript form and submit them to some publishers. So that is what I did. Then we gave it a title: I Wonder What Noah Did With The Woodpeckers: Tales From The Far Side Of Christian Life. Then came the hard part. Trying to find a publisher.

The first publisher sent me a letter saying “no thanks” and then telling me that most writers “don’t hit their stride until about their fifth book.” He was saying this to me. A man who hadn’t written book one.

The next couple of publishers told me they really liked the manuscript but that – outside a couple of female writers – Christian humor just would not sell.

In that mix I also got a few form letters thanking me for sending the manuscript but blah,blah,blah,blah. I was about to give up. This was not very affirming to my ego.

Then in August, 1997, a good friend of mine told me to contact a friend of his who just happened to be the president of Barbour Publishing/Promise Press in Uhrichsville, Ohio. So I called Tim Martins, talked to him for a few moments, sent him the manuscript and within a week of my initial contact I had a contract in hand. I was so excited he could have probably talked me into paying him for the manuscript.

Then we went through the editing process. This is where they tell you your baby’s eyes aren’t quite as blue as you thought they were. Some writers can’t handle this part. But my experience was a good one. It made me a better writer. It’s always good, when possible, to get an objective voice to review anything you’re going to write or say to a larger audience. You may not agree with the criticisms, but it’s still a good idea.

Well, to make a longer story short (because if you’re like me your attention span is waning) the book went to the printer in June and was on display at the Christian Booksellers Association convention in Dallas in July. It was there I got to do my first book signing. My lovely wife Alison sat beside me to remind me that, as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t talk to any one person for more than a minute. But it felt good. Felt funny. People standing in line to have me autograph my book. A piece of your life. I thank the Lord for allowing me to write it.

Now, I wonder if people will actually buy it. We shall see. If they don’t and there is no book number two, I figure at least my great grandchildren can walk by my tombstone and say, “Hey, here’s ol’ Pa Wildmon. Wrote a book one time. Something about woodpeckers. Must have been big into bird-watching or something. Granddad says Pa Wildmon was a real hard worker. Even worked in a factory, warehouse or something when he was eight, stuffing four books for a penny.…”