There was a man I knew a long time ago. His name was Mr. Wagon and he was the first character I ever created. He was the protagonist of my very first series of books - books I wrote when I was five or six. I had cut pieces of A4 paper in half and stapled them together to make a booklet. I would write about Mr. Wagon and his life, then partner the words with illustrations. I must have written about ten of them before I stopped. And I don’t remember anything about the stories I wrote, except that they were about Mr. Wagon and the adventures he had. I remember thinking I had this amazing superpower as a kid: I could create whole new worlds and whole new people. I could give those people lives, adventures, obstacles, hopes, fears, all by writing words on a page.

The little Aboriginal kid who stapled those pieces of paper together and wrote those stories loved the books of Andy Griffiths, Paul Jennings, Dav Pilkey and R.L Stine and he wanted to be like them one day – to have books of his own, displayed on the bookshelves of school libraries. We moved around a lot when I was a kid, and sadly Mr. Wagon and his stories were lost in the midst of all that. He’s gone, but the storytelling fire he gave me continues to burn long after he was lost.

When I was in Year 3, our class was tasked with writing a Halloween-themed short story. In my story, I was with my friends on a school camp where we had to escape from vampires, mummies and werewolves. My teacher had me read the story in front of the class. I don’t remember much of the contents of the story, just that it made everyone laugh, because even though many of my friends died in horrible ways in the story, it was funny as hell. At some point later, my dad had brought my lunch to school and came to my class to give it to me. My teacher took me outside with my dad and she told him all about my story and how she thought I was really talented etc. I was kind of embarrassed, but I remember my dad saying “excellent, son” before he left.

My Year 6 Teacher had me do some writing lessons with another student and a teacher named Gabbie Stroud. Although I don’t remember much from those lessons, I remember they happened, and I remember they made me feel special. As a result of those lessons, I had a short story published in the end-of-year school magazine. It was about a boy and his dad, trapped on a sinking boat off the coast, surrounded by sharks.

During our final class of the year, my Year 6 Teacher gave her students Christmas cards. In these cards she wrote personal messages to her students. Mine said:

Don’t forget to send me a copy of your first novel.

I think that was when writing became an actual dream of mine.

I always got good marks on any creative writing task during high school, but I lost a little interest in writing as a dream. A lot of other things became more important to me, like footy and underage drinking. When I was 18, I read ‘The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian’ by Sherman Alexie, which I had received as a gift from a work colleague. To this day, it is still my favourite book. It explores the coming-of-age of a Native American teen named Arnold. I won’t spoil the story by talking too much about it here, but it really resonated with me as an Aboriginal teen. This book made me want to write stories about Aboriginal teens - about growing up, finding your place in the world.

Fast-forward to now and I’ve written a book called THE BOY FROM THE MISH. It’s a Young Adult novel about a 17 year old Aboriginal boy named Jackson. It’s being published by Allen & Unwin in February 2021. I have an advanced reading copy which I can hardly believe exists even though I’m seeing it with my own eyes. I have to remind myself it’s real. And when the time comes, I’ll be sending a copy to my Year 6 Teacher.

I’d spent a good four years searching for THE BOY FROM THE MISH , then about three years writing and rewriting and restructuring and writing and rewriting. That’s a long story - a story for another time. I put so much of myself into this book and I can’t wait for it to be out in the world. I think it’s true that if you work hard enough, you can achieve what you want to achieve. Take it from me - the Aboriginal kid from Bega, NSW, who used to cut pieces of paper in half and staple them together to make a book.

This month I’m headed to Varuna The National Writer’s House on a Copyright Agency First Nations Fellowship to work on my next YA project, and I’m thinking of Mr. Wagon. I stopped writing about him twenty-ish years ago. I don’t remember anything about him except his name and that he existed, but he continues to sit there in my history, reminding me to hold onto my childhood and teenage spirit, to keep that voice young in my head so that I can continue to write with it.

Gary