Meet the Word-Weaver

Hey, y'all. Glad you could stop by.

I'm John Shivers, and I'm a weaver of stories and fabrics. I've been weaving - stories, that is - since I was just 11 years old. Man, if you could've seen those first manuscripts - crude doesn't begin to describe 'em.

But they kindled a fire in me that's still burning. And somewhere along the way, someone called me a "word-weaver," and it stuck.

It's hard to believe it's been more than 40 years since I set out to prove that I was a writer. That's why 2005 was such an exciting time, when my first book was published. Equally exciting was Summer 2006, when my second book came out. And book number three will release some time in early 2007. In the meantime, I'm continuing to develop other manuscript ideas, and I've expanded my weaving into the fascinating world of storytelling.

Just like those fabrics I make on my loom, John Shivers the Word-Weaver is a colorful combination of yarns and patterns. But there's not room here to tell you everything. Just click on any of those buttons on the left … right over there… and I'll show you what I mean.

I'd love to hear from you, so please e-mail me. If you want, I'll be glad to notify you when my books are released. I'm also available for storytelling and speaking engagements at your school or library, your church or civic group.

Remembering...

In fond remembrance… the late Dorothy Hamilton, my first writing coach, who gave so much of herself… the late Gary Provost, a teacher of professionalism (see photo at right) … and in honor of… Jean Conder Soule, who revived a faltering confidence… and Catherine Ritch Guess, true ministry and stewardship in action.

A 1990 writing retreat led by the late Gary Provost, M.D. (Manuscript Doctor) was a turning point in how I viewed myself and my abilities. (Gary's on the right.)

John Shivers
(pronounced just like when you get cold - Shivers)

Excerpt from my new book: Broken Spirit
(Chapter One):

The cold shudder of death and the weight of unspeakable loss enveloped Saralynn Reilly.

"Peter!" she sobbed, her hysteria piercing the darkness as she fumbled for the light. "Peter! Someone's in trouble."

Heart pounding, she clawed frantically through a drowsy fog, desperate to find the mournful wail that still hung on the night's blackness...