Sabne Raznik's "Following Hope" is Available on Ebay- Signed

Since it's publication in April of 2007, "Following Hope" has sold a little under 100 copies and received glowing reviews, including the following from Irish poet Brendan Kennelly:

"Thank you for that beautiful book- a harvest of really striking poems in a really elegant creation. The language is haunting; in fact the entire book reads like a haunted, lyrical, warm, violent, wounded love-poem in which togetherness and a chilly gulf of seperation vie with each other, and hurt is inseperable from loving passion. This leads to a situation where warm intimacy and icy distance assess as they embrace.

"Fingers" is one of the most powerful poems I've read for a long time. These same fingers claw this reader's mind and imagination long after the book has been laid aside. But this book doesn't really get laid aside; it walks the streets of Dublin with me. For this I thank you and may your special magic continue to flourish. "

While my website (http://www.sabneraznik.com/) contains links to its publisher Xlibris, Amazon, and Barnes and Noble as places to buy it, Barnes and Noble no longer keeps it in stock. Amazon's policies regarding print-on-demand books, as adopted last year, has meant that while it continues to be available through them, very few are now buying it there (a strange side-effect, indeed). So I am now selling SIGNED copies on Ebay. Come by and check it out.

The Legend of Leyla and Majnun: Its Importance in Eastern and Western Traditions

Reprinted from my AC page, as was the other essays I've posted here: http://http://www.associatedcontent.com/user/64959/sabne_raznik.html


One of the most common legends throughout the Middle East is "Leyla and Majnun". The title varies as names are translated, but these names mean: Leyla- Arabic for night, Majnun- Arabic for demon or mad man, specifically madly in love. Some of the details of the story can vary as well. There is some claim that the legends are based on a true story about a Bedouin poet named Qays ibn al-Mulawwah ibn Muzahim and a woman called Layla bint Mahdi ibn Sa'd, better known as Layla Al-Aamiriya. The legends are far-flung and both India and Saudi Arabia claim to have the tomb of the lovers.

The most popular version of the story was written by Nizami Ganjavi (1141-1209) in the Persian tongue. In this story Majnun falls in love with Leyla at first sight but is denied marrying her. This drives him to madness and poetry becomes his salvation. His father takes him to a temple to implore the god's help for his son, but instead Majnun prays that his love will continue to grow since he knows his life is worthless without it. Eventually, he retreats to the wilderness (which reminded me of the Celtic legend of "Mad Sweeney") to live with the animals and recite poetry he had written for Leyla. His health slowly declines and he exhausts all symbolic and psychological desire. When he last meets with Leyla, he no longer wishes to live, so driven mad by denied love as he is, and dies in her arms. She then dies beside him of grief. Some versions have her dying first and his own mad grief and love driving him finally to his death afterwards.

The legend has proved to be the influence of many great Western works of literature. During the Middle Ages, thanks to travelling troubadours and the crusades, there was much cross-pollination between these different cultures. The story of Leyla and Majnun was adapted and westernised for such classic tales as "Tristan and Isolde", "Aucassin et Nicolette", "La Fou d'Elsa", and perhaps most famously "Romeo and Juliette" among others. It was also the first work ever created in the Italian musical genre in the Muslim world. It was so adapted by Uzeyir Hajibeyov. Hajibeyov's version of the story is an enormously successful synthesis between East and West, and between European classical music and Oriental culture, it is said.

One of the most defining differences between the Western adaptions and the Eastern legends concerning Majnun and Leyla is the view of love according to culture. In the West, as can be seen by refering to the adaptations and Western literature which has been influenced by the Eastern legends, true love is nearly always a consummated love. Whether that love is approved by the powers that be or not, the love-struck and typically doomed couple will usually at some point have sexual relations. Only then is the love fully realised and sympathised with. In the Eastern legends, this love is almost never consummated. In fact, the legends' driving force is dependent on that fact. This is because in Oriental tradition, particularly the Islamic, true love for a person is a pure love, one that does not require sexual intimacy. Only if the love remains pure and free of physical relations can it be the kind of love that leads one to the complete love of the divine. In Leyla and Majnun, this is what characterises Majnun's insanity- that it is a manifestation of his having reached the ultimate state of divine love and hence, in a sense, has himself become divine. Therefore, the love-mad, non-revolutionary poet is, in Oriental tradition, a divine being.

The reasons for Leyla's family's rejection of Majnun also differs from that of the Western adaptations. In "Romeo and Juliette" that rejection is based on mutual emnity between the families. In "Tristan and Isolde" it is because of social standing and because Isolde is already betrothed. In Leyla and Majnun, he is rejected because of the poetic nature of his love. In Oriental culture love is a secret thing. Marriages are even today typically arranged by families for the advancement of the family or for whatever reason. It is not to be spoken of in public or advertised, because love, although desirable, is not a requirement for those marriages and the happiness attained within them (however much the Western world believes that love is vital for happiness, many other cultures do not believe that to be so, and when both parties to the marriage agree on this belief it can be true). So when Majnun publicises his love by spouting poetry outside the walls of Leyla's house and in the streets, this offends Leyla's family and breaks this code, if you will. Since he is considered divine because of the poetic intensity of his love, he is no longer considered as a human being in that cultural environment and, as such, is not eligible for the marriage. In other words, the union would have resulted in scandal. That is why, in the Iranian and Turkic traditions, Majnun is viewed as a pure and absolute martyr to divine love, although that interpretation is not included in all Eastern versions of the legend. In the context of this brief discussion of cultural differences and interpretations, it is interesting to note that the action of the legend is set during what is called "Jahiliyah"- meaning "ignorance"- and predates Islam by one hundred years.

The legends of Leyla and Majnun still ring true for audiences today, especially youths. Western youths long for the kind of love which would be so strong as to allow either or both partners to die for each other if necessary. In the fast-paced society that exists today, it is common for people to marry multiple times and still not experience the love that Western culture insists is vital to such a relationship, and so the modern connection to the Western adaptions is a sort of nostalgic longing for true love that never dies even in death. In the Orient, arranged marriages are still more or less the norm and the possiblility of forbidden love is a real one. Therefore, Leyla and Majnun's difficulties still have a very real and immediate currency there. Also, there is the unique phenomenon created by immigration. In Southern California alone, there are nearly one million Iranians and there are many, many more of Middle Eastern origin throughout the Western world. Coming as they are from a culture where love is a private matter into one that experienced the sexual liberation movement of the 1960s and 1970s and where sex is so common and open that it is even used to sell products as advertising, the effects can be devestating. There have even been cases of insanity due to the effort required to reconcile these totally different ways of thinking. For these ones, the legends of Leyla and Majnun have an altogether unique meaning of its own.

Truly, this classical Eastern legend deserves close scrutiny by those from both sides of the world, as it has had a profound effect on both.

My Life on MUTE

Take out my vocal cords,
Remove my voice box ,
and,

go ahead press mute.

I'll mime my way around all of their stupidity.

Turn down the volume,
no subtitles or captions,
I'll mouth the solutions to our problems with my lips,
and never a sound to interrupt,
but kiss-
and Silence will overwhelm.

Go ahead-press mute on me,
turn off my voice and expect me lame.
in the quiet you will find.
my voice is.
the
loudest.

Recent Stuff

Here is what I have written since August '08. Please, feel free to comment.

This was inspired by the movie "Jodhaa Akbar" and a dream I had:

"Freedom Walk"

Coloured glass ornaments
Darkened orange veil
Tripping bell anklets
One step to freedom

She's afraid to take it

Painted hands to wall
Painted feet touch floor

She moves


I'm having trouble titling this one. I tried "Dead" but it seemed to give away too much. I tried "Children" but that had the same problem, so current working title:

"Malawi: buried"

Ululation breaks parched
Throat, skin, earth

Sandstorm enwraps bony
Body, cuts

Words into the skin, blood
Inked names of

Sorrows, sorrows lost on
Faces blank

Numbed and rubbed free
Of identity


Did any of you watch last year's "Superstars of Dance" with Micheal Flatley as host? This poem was inspired by the solo South African dancer Mamela Nyamza and her performance as a dying swan or crane (link to youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AswRJtS9_eg&feature=related)- you may remember her:

"Woman"

Brown belief:
She sinks into dirt
Dirt sky she imagines
Ripping open-
Giving out under its withheld
Burden

Of hope. Soft, wet, white,
Crisp, soap-sparkle of
Snow she's never seen
Kissing the bare

Bare-boned earth
Glassed into ocean
Water still as steel-stone.
She feels like she

Is tearing open
With pain- like ripping apart
Garments- stepping free
Of herself
In a white tu-tu,

Dancing the horizon:
A crane's jerking
Movements- broken lips-
Across snowed-on ocean,

Dirt-covered folded origami
Bird in palm encased,
Encrusted jewel
Dug from earth-deep death,
Star of Africa.


This next one was a meditation on the events of my life over 2009:

"Memory Fractured"

Carcass of wingless
Black bird of prey,
Hanging,
Slit open,
Bleached white inside:
If you should find a seed within it,
Throw it down to us
To pick at,
Splinter,
Misunderstand and squander.
Aborted life-
Again.

This is a favorite subject of mine:

"The Bellydancer"

She picks at her bedlah
Checks her nails
Listens for the zaghareets
Which are her cue
Nervous, her heart beats with the drums
While she practices some of the
More difficult moves of her
Routine- just before
The curtain rises and the lights come on
She whispers:
"I dance for you, habibi"


One more that I wrote tonight while thinking of someone:

"Joy"
n. 1. sunshine in the heart 2. swaying hip shimis back to front, first the left then the right 3. cascading cresendo of beads, coins, and fabric created by bedlah while executing said move and which radiates outward 4. the state of being on your mind

It's been a dry season as you can see. I consider only one or two of these as half-way publishable. Please tell me what you think. :)

Old Fort Park

Old Fort Park
By Bobbi Rightmyer

The trees are naked, bare
standing tall and straight.
Leaves litter the ground
like a patch worn carpet
or old rag rug
covering the still green grass
with crumples of brown.
Birds are chirping
calling out a joyful tune,
singing with happiness at the glorious day.
Squirrels are scampering
unafraid of the few lingering cars,
scavenging for food,
thick, bushy tails riding high in the air.
A car backfires on some not far street
and all is quiet as the world goes on pause,
but after a few still seconds the chorus begins,
and the wildlife sounds can be heard again.
Sunshine straining through thick, gray clouds,
warmth on my face from the hazy glare,
with a cool breeze dancing across my skin,
causing a gentle sway to the trees.
The shrubbery and hedges are still holding onto
leaves and fruit galore,
It’s that time of year again,
the rapidly approaching winter
when all life’s chores come in a fast succession,
preparing for the long, dark days
of winter yet to come.

A "New Modern" or "Regionally Modern" Poetry?

Irish and Appalachian Poets Grapple with Changes to Their Respective Cultures

Poetry Ireland Review has been among my favorite literary journals for some years now. In volume # 93, Rita Kelly penned an essay called "Eavan Boland: A Voice of Courage in Our Time". In it, and as a side point almost, she touched on the cultural changes that the Emerald Isle is currently undergoing. This bit of meditation resonated with me in a way Kelly likely did not intend. Why? Because my native Appalachia is also facing cultural changes.

Whereas Ireland's changes are more blatant as Kelly describes them, the urbanization of Appalachia is of a different sort- being more internal within the people themselves rather than literal. But the results are similar.

Ireland is now a major destination for refugees and immigrants from many nations. No longer is it merely a vacation stop for tourists or a place from which its people reluctantly flee. Since the 1970s it has slowly built up itself into a self-aware, fully functioning nation within the EU and since the 1990s in particular it has enjoyed a bit of an economic boom. (This is not a political essay. I am simply attempting to draw a more accurate picture of modern Ireland in the mind, versus the now out-dated one of popular imagination as portrayed in- for example- Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt.) There are any number of cultures coexisting there today and a true babble of languages are spoken. Particularly is this true on the east coast. The rural agricultural way of life is being forsaken for the urban industrial as the population increasingly moves into the cities.

On this shore, Appalachia is being similarly challenged by an urbanization of the mind. On one hand many long-standing truths remain. For instance, it is still a longed-for homeland from which many go in a sort of involuntary exile into decidedly Appalachian neighborhoods in such city centers as Cincinnati, Cleveland, Canton, Detroit, and Chicago. It is still a very economically oppressed area by national standards. For the most part, outsiders in Appalachia still tend to be migrant workers. (In recent years many of these workers have been Mexican or Latino and thus one occasionally hears Spanish spoken here or there.) These workers rarely stay. Appalachians have never really developed a sense of who they are in the greater throng of humanity and they prefer to be left alone to their ways and thinking. One often hears the saying "If you leave me alone, I'll leave you alone", which basically means one is free to live the way one wants, provided one extends that courtesy to others. These things have been more or less the same for generations.

On the other hand, however, there are great- albeit subtle- upheavals in the familiar order of things. To be Appalachian does not mean exactly the same as it did a generation ago. The system of roads is improving every year and this is opening up previously isolated areas of the mountains little by little. As a result, Appalachians travel in greater numbers and more often than ever before. The educational institutions are now, in some cases, rivaling the best in the country. There is greater exposure to the outside world due to television, radio, and especially the internet. At this point in time, second and even third generations are benefiting from these innovations. There is ongoing research into several theories regarding the origins of the Appalachian people and newly discovered facts are painting a very different picture than the country at large and popular media have supposed. Consequently, there is a growing awareness of a unique identity among them. All of these are positive changes, yes. But changes nonetheless. Many are losing interest in the hard working rural aesthetics that once defined the region in favor of a more mainstream technological lifestyle. (As a reminder: this is not a political essay.)

Subsequently both Ireland and Appalachia are currently undergoing a time of change, of a great shift in world views. This has quite naturally created a measure of mass anxiety not experienced before. There is instability and a weakening of old systems of belief as the cultures morph to fit entirely new sets of circumstances. These new environments challenge their native poets. The question for their respective regional poetries is: how to express one-selves when the old modes of expression- the old words (by which I mean the old poetic traditions and unfortunately perhaps even the old languages unique to each place)- no longer apply and/or are no longer sufficient?

Was this not the defining question of "Modern" poetry? (For the purposes of this essay, "Modern" poetry is defined as that work produced at the end of the "Romantic" period up until the eruption of World War II. In other words, from about the 1890s until about 1940.) During this time there was a similar upheaval in cultures, ways of thinking, and dismantling of long-established systems of belief on a world wide scale. It was a time of questioning, of attempts to rebalance intellectually and in every other way imaginable. This general mood affected the poetry being written as much as any other sphere of the human experience of the time. Uncertainty and experimentation is stamped across the work of every poet whose career spanned some or all of those years.

In some ways, Ireland and Appalachia experienced this shift of core values with the rest of the world. But in just as many ways they seem to have been couched against it. The forces that cushioned these areas from the worst of the quaking that so utterly and permanently changed the intellectual and cultural landscape of the rest of the world are unique to each place and are not important in this essay. What is clear is that these forces have finally eroded or been removed. In some very important ways, Ireland and Appalachia are playing catch-up.

Their native poets are beginning to grapple with the implications of this catch-up. They are being faced with the challenge of inventing new modes of expression that can be sufficient to their changed circumstances and cultures. In this sense, it could be that Ireland and Appalachia are just now entering in on a "Modern" phase. It is certain that experimentation must be undertaken. Very "Modernist" questions are now being asked of these poets. They must find their own unique ways, indigenous to each area, to answer these questions. A "New Modern" or "Regionally Modern" poetry? Perhaps.

Who will be brave enough to attempt to answer?

Arts Festival Poetry Contest

The Arts Council of Mercer County
Presents
Arts Festival Poetry Contest


Three Categories
1. Adult
2. High School Students
3. Middle School Students
(This includes ALL Home School Students)

Entrants may submit up to 4 poems

Any length is ok but the subject must be “Art”
Entry fees are:
$1.00 for one poem
$3.00 for four poems

DEADLINE FOR SUBMISSIONS
October 12th, 2009

Winner will receive 5 copies of a chapbook of their poetry up to 20 pages. Entrants will be able to read some of their work at The Writer’s Café booth at the festival.


Entries and fees should be sent to The Arts Council of Mercer County, 235 Ashley Camp Rd. Harrodsburg, KY. 40330. Any questions should be sent to Tony Sexton at contentedme@hotmail.com

Fall Images: A Poem

Fall Images: A Poem

Pumpkins and varicolored leaves, candles
and festivals in the country
Funnel cakes, dealers of faux designer goods:
watches, purses,
cut-rate tapes for an old player, eight track or cassette
made in an old farmer’s garage last night
Dunking booths, dances and carnival games:
Shoot the water gun! Pop the balloon!
Win a tee shirt in glitter and a NASCAR guy’s face.
Painted faces of Halloween, candy hunters for gum
and chocolate crèmes- dispose of the goods in plastic
baskets, or cups— if you don’t, those kids might show up
at a later time less convenient for you, doing something
they ought not to do. Football games on cooling nights
under the glare of the halogen lights, where students toss
pigskins on hills above as players do on the field to excite.

-Earl P. Dean 2009

September 24th Assignment

The assignment for the next Speaking Out Workshop on September 24th is to take a visual image from the collaborative poem in the post before this one and explore it as an individual poem or essay or any form of writing you choose. Or you can choose another visual image as your prompt. Come prepared next week to read your poems.

Also, the deadline for submissions for the next Speaking Out book is November 16th. Please be finalizing your work and email to Roni Gilpin.

Fall

The following poem was a collaborative effort from the workshop on September 17th. Everyone was asked to write down vivid images of what autumn feels like to them. We then read a few of our responses, which were weaved together into this poem. Enjoy!

Fall

Bright red maple leaves
Slowly slipping colors caressing the horizon
Clothed in royal purples and red
Candles and festivals in the country
First fire of the season in the fire place
Dainty spider webs glistening with dew

Allergies, dead gardens, produce lined up in jars
The leaves litter the ground in a cloak of copper pennies
And the softer sun kisses the geraniums on my front porch inviting one more blaze of blossoms

Piles of mysterious leaves pondering a past life on multiple trees
Coolness of the autumn sunset turns the forest into a growing fire
Win a t shirt in glitter and a Nascar guy’s face
Fallen leaves, blazing color, bare naked branches fingering a deep blue sky
Ooey gooey caramel apples in the early hint of twilight
The old farmers almanac weather predictions for the coming winter
In a time long ago when cedar shavings carried dreams on a gentle wind.
Athletic fields are alive once again

A strong fortress belying the thoughts of an autumn requiem

Book Launch

Congratulations to Tony Sexton and Earl P. Dean on your successful book launch/mixer yesterday at the Kentucky Fudge Company. Tony has just released his first book of poetry, "Scraps," and Earl has release a science fiction novella, "A Tailor Maiden's Secret."

Both of these books are available at Wasteland Press and Amazon.

Herschel McKinley - the MC (Photo by Bobbi Rightmyer)

Earl P. Dean (Photo by Cheryl Sexton)

Tony Sexton (Photo by Bobbi Rightmyer)

Earl P. Dean and Tony Sexton (Photo by Cheryl Sexton)

Reflections

REFLECTIONS

The mirrors turn in,
reflecting past sins, grievances,
showing hallow ghosts of shining hopes and dreams,
with no way to keep at bay the dark and sorted nightmares.
Does the Bogey man exist
like beings of daytime hours;
or is he like the man in the moon,
only showing when a cycle is full?
Creeping darkness under the bed,
or a slightly cracked closet door
scaring even dust bunnies away
like particles dancing in a sun beam.
The stars may sparkle to mimick a diamond
with all its Teflon facets,
and waves may ripple the water surface
like warbles upon the glass.
Hopes and dreams are shared
with those closest to our heart
wishing for a brighter way
to end this foolish slump.

New Speaking Out! Workshop

Speaking Out! Writing Workshop

Mercer County Senior High School

Thursdays at 6:30 pm
August 20th and 27th
September 17th and 24th
October 22nd and 29th
November 17th

For more information contact:
Roni Gilpin @ 859-319-3531
Betty Dean @ 859-583-6355

Book Release Party

Host: Nomadic Ink
Type: Party - Mixer
Date: Saturday, August 15, 2009
Time: 2:00pm - 5:00pm
Location: Kentucky Fudge Company
Main Street, Harrodsburg, Kentucky


The Community of Mercer County Writers - Nomadic Ink - is hosting a book release party to celebrate 2 books by Harrodsburg native authors. Earl Dean will be signing his new young adult book - A TAILOR MAIDEN'S SECRET - and Tony Sexton will be signing his new book of poetry - SCRAPS.

Everyone is encouraged to come out and support these wonderful authors. Books will be available for purchase.

Tony Sexton's SCRAPS

Congratulations, Tony Sexton, for the publication of your new book, SCRAPS. Tony is the leader of The Community of Mercer County Writers and has lead several writing workshops in the community.

Many writers have said they never knew when an idea or inspiration might hit them and I am no different. Often I find myself considering an idea with no means of jotting it down. Usually I have a pen but, more often than not, I don't have a notebook handy. The only solution, in these cases, is to use what ever I can find; a napkin, box top, grocery receipt or an envelope. The title of this first collection, Scraps, comes from this dilemma. I began writing in the fifth grade when is teacher, Miss Castle, gave me writing challenge using the word “compulsion”. Since then I has spent over 20 years writing, leading writing workshops, which are designed for all ages and experiences and trying to complete her assignment. I am a member of The Community of Mercer County Writers and president elect of The Kentucky State Poetry. You can find my writing in The Journal of Kentucky Studies, Jar and several magazines including Good Old Days. I live in Mercer County with my wonderful wife, Cheryl and their dog, Mercy.

SCRAPS is available from Amazon and Wasteland Press

An Evening with Normandi Ellis

The Advanced Writer Workshop - lead by Harrodsburg's own Tony Sexton - and The Community of Mercer County Writers will be hosting Normandi Ellis as our guest speaker on Tuesday, June 9, 2009 at 7pm at the Mercer County Public Library. It is very exciting to be hosting this wonderful Kentucky Writer.

Books by Normandi Ellis:


Dreams of Isis

Awakening Osiris

Feasts of Light

Fresh-fleshed Sisters

Sorrowful Mysteries and Other Stories






She is also the editor of the Berea College Magazine

The Mist of Time

(Photo by Lisa of Wearin' My Heart on My Sleeve


THE MIST OF TIME

Hugging the bark like a fine silk glove
The mist encircled the trees
Coating each branch with the careless moisture
Left over at the breaking of dawn

What beauty beholds the thirsty eyes
At this causal offering of nature's finest moment
Blurred and fuzzy like an old photograph
Whispering the essence of a time gone by

Why can't life be as simple as this
A beautiful second in a neverending world
Awash with memories and bathed in remembrances
Like the trees standing in the mist

Paranoia

PARANOIA

Storm clouds gather overhead
As early darkness descends
Bathing the world in an eerie glow
My paranoid emotions explode

Rustling branches seem to call my name
Causing shivers to run down my spine
Too scared to make a tiny move
My legs are frozen with fright

With every noise my imagination grows
Threatening to overtake me
No where to run, no where to go
Drowning in a sea of night

Crouching down beside the tree
My body bathed in sweat
I pray to God to make it through
Until the break of day

Eternity's Shadow

ETERNITY'S SHADOW

We stand together
Just we two
As twilight lengthens the horizon
We look so strange
Our elongated limbs
Shadowing the close cut lawn

But is it symbolic
Of our lives spent together
Our love does lengthen and grow
With each passing minute
Each passing day
Till eternity passes away

Book Signing

Here is our good friend, Earl Dean, at his first book signing for A TAILOR MAIDEN'S SECRET. Congratulations again, Earl!

Book Signing with Earl Dean

Congratulations Earl P. Dean on the publication of your first novel! Earl is a member of The Community of Mercer County Writers.



Mayfest 2009 Book Signing
Saturday, May 9th from noon - 4pm
Gratz Park in Lexington, Kentucky

Earl will be signing his new book, A TAILOR MAIDEN'S SECRET and you will be able to buy a copy of the book on Saturday, or you can order from Wasteland Press, Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

To learn more about the Mayfest events, click here.

A TAILOR MAIDEN'S SECRET

"Arliane Donestica attends mid-school on a planet called Pooda, a forbidding world of the future so far removed from Earth in space and time that the old world exists as a mythical origin for the poodan progenitors.

The Poodan Youth for Unity, sponsored by Pooda's Elders, are chasing Arliane through her snowbound city at the request of the Elders, pressuring her about unspoken activities that might tie her to rebellion similar to her mother's. Activist and wife as well, Arliane's mother had died in a protest by explosion.

Were the Elders behind it? Read of a biological mystery, political strife and forbidden action to discover the answer in A TAILOR MAIDEN’S SECRET."

Earl Patrick Dean is a computer programmer working in Kentucky. He holds a BA degree from Transylvania University and graduate certificates from The Institute of Children’s Literature, and has attended the Carnegie Center for Literacy and Learning workshops on Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror and Online Writing Workshop for Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror. He loves reading and collecting books, and writes mostly science fiction and fantasy stories.

Earl has published stories in SAY...WHAT’S THE COMBINATION?, MORNINGSTAR ANTHOLOGY and KENTUCKY BLUE.