By: James Arnett
Scott Fitzgerald famously said, “there are no good second acts.” I beg to differ. But I didn’t set out to become a novelist. Like many of us, I spent decades building a more conventional career, raising a family, and tending to all the practicalities of life. So, how did it happen that I started writing novels of historical fiction in my seventies?
I had always enjoyed the craft of writing, even when I did my thesis for Henry Kissinger while doing post-graduate work at Harvard Law School. And as a practising lawyer, I enjoyed writing a good letter or memorandum, even, strange as it may sound, making sure an agreement I was drafting accurately expressed my client’s intentions and best interests—and many a lawsuit has resulted from a lawyer’s failure to do so! Also, I had written several law review articles and articles on public policy for Canadian newspapers.
Upon retirement, I was casting about for something to write about, presumably non-fiction, but remembered I had a manuscript of an unpublished novel of my grandfather’s about rum-running during Prohibition in the 1920s. I wondered if I could do something with it. While I concluded I couldn’t, it led me to a story that maybe I could do something with: the murder of a member of the famous Bronfman family. That led me to write my first historical novel, “Bean Fate.”
So, I backed into writing historical fiction, finding I could do it and enjoyed doing so. But the journey had been anything but linear. Writing later in life had come with its own set of advantages and challenges. On one hand, I had the benefit of perspective—a lifetime of observing people, politics, ambition, and the subtleties of human behavior. On the other hand, there was the question: Can I really do this? Can I really write believable dialogue? Is it just too late to start something new?
Reimagining Revolution
Bean Fate had given me the confidence and, indeed, inspiration to try again. The Monmouth Manifesto was the result. It’s set against the backdrop of the American Revolution, but centered on the role of those who opposed independence—the “Loyalists.”. While many readers know the stories of the leaders of the rebellion against the British—familiar heroes like Washington, Adams, and Franklin—I wanted to explore the lives that rarely make it into the spotlight: the ordinary soldiers, the civilians caught between loyalties, and the idealists who risked everything.
The story follows two New Jersey farmers who oppose the rebellion—which they see as illegal, and join a Loyalist regiment in the British Army. Their martial exploits, including guerrilla warfare and extra-judicial executions, earn the wrath of George Washington himself—and ultimately they have to flee the United States. Their choices—between duty and love, loyalty and survival—echo the moral gray zones that exist in every era of upheaval. Who’s the Good Guy and who’s the Bad Guy? I’ve always believed that historical fiction works best when it feels alive and human, when the reader senses the sweat, fear, and faith of the people who lived it.
I’m often asked how I came up with the story. As with “Bean Fate”, there was a family connection! I’d heard a rumor in my wife’s family about one of those New Jersey farmers. My investigation revealed a truly interesting story. But the process of researching and writing was both exhilarating and exhausting. I spent months reading– primary documents and letters, and dozens of books of history and biography. I thought about the storyline, especially on long hikes, trying to imagine what those farmers’ dramatic lives must have been like. And that’s what “fiction” brings to history—trying to bring historical events to life and give them meaning for today’s reader.
A Timely Reflection
As the United States approaches its 250th anniversary in 2026, I can’t help but feel that the questions of that revolutionary era are still with us. What does freedom mean? How do we reconcile our ideals with our flaws? How do we build unity amid disagreement? Writing The Monmouth Manifesto as a Canadian became, in many ways, my personal meditation on those questions, particularly because those two New Jersey farmers ended up as refugees to Canada!
The Loyalists’ rejection of the focus by Patriots like Jefferson on individual rights revealed the tension between individual and communal rights. By revisiting the American Revolution through fiction, I hope to highlight that tension that’s always with us, and also show that the human spirit—its resilience, courage, and contradictions—remains unchanged.
As a writer, I find comfort in that continuity. It reminds me that history isn’t static; it’s a conversation that spans generations. Each era reinterprets the past in its own way. Perhaps that’s why historical fiction continues to resonate: it gives us permission to revisit old stories with new eyes, to draw meaning and wisdom from what came before.
The Joy of Starting Late
People often ask me what it’s like to start writing novels at a stage when many of my peers are slowing down. My answer is simple: it’s liberating. There’s no expectation of chasing trends or proving anything. You write because you want to, not because you have to. It’s liberating. You can just do something because you like to do it!
So, if there’s a message in my journey, it’s this: it’s never too late to start telling stories. History belongs to all of us, and so does creativity. Whether you’re fifty, sixty, or beyond, your voice still matters—and the world is still waiting to hear it.
Discover my books and learn more about my journey. Explore here: JamesArnett.ca or grab a copy of Monmouth Manifesto on Amazon: Monmouth Manifesto on Amazon.
