Freelance Writer & Photographer
Douglas R.
Douglas R.
Sentz Jr.
Fiction, poetry, and photography — with a running thread of travel and sports nonfiction.
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Fiction, poetry, and photography — with a running thread of travel and sports nonfiction.
Douglas R. Sentz Jr. is a self-published author, freelance writer, and photographer working across genre fiction, poetry, travel and sports nonfiction, and location photography. His work moves between the built-out, high-stakes world of speculative YA fiction, the quieter, page-a-day discipline of a working poet, on-the-ground travel and sports writing, and an eye for capturing places worth remembering.
He's currently seeking literary agent representation for the Evolutions Trilogy and the children's book Pinky the Purple Elephant, while working on Book 2 of Evolutions.
A sci-fi dystopian YA romance and the first installment in the Evolutions Trilogy.
"Evan knew that this night would change everything. He felt it in the air that he was breathing... the silhouette of the downtown appeared orange and gilded like an ancient biblical city of great importance."Poetry / Journal
A 50-day guided writing journal built around poetry prompts for a daily creative practice.
Poetry published in Emerge, Vol. 2 (Spring 2006), the alumni magazine of the Community College of Baltimore County.
A non-fiction sports travel article on Fenway Park, previously published at tripsandjourneys.com.
Poem "September 11, 2001" featured in this anthology of reaction, reflection, and resilience from Maryland writers, published by the Baltimore Writers' Alliance (2002).
Poem "Purpose" (p. 26) featured in Perpetuuum Mobile, Vol. 1, Issue 1 (September 2004), published by the neighborhood press, Baltimore, MD.
A recurring contributor to Manorborn: A Collection of Poems, published by the Harford Poetry and Literary Society, Bel Air, MD — "Dancing" (2003), "Elvis and Tweety" (2004), and "least common denominator" & "Crazy Soul Moon" (2005).
Additional writing samples, publication credits, and photography work.
Life like words
can seem too brief
taut, tight, cinched
love like words
can feel too short
hurried, flushed, rapid
…
words burn through me like a wildfire
tearing through a forest
racing to blaze a trail
from east to west
north to south
out of control
Her hair hits the pillow
like the soft mane of a Triple Crown winner
her eyes just now closed…
I want to die
like Yeats would die
in a poem
but I am weary and beat down
I turn to her
whispering softly, gently
“Goodnight, Lover.”
Your temporary absence rocked
my world,
felt the emptiest heart,
and a grief stricken soul.
Let me rescue you.
Look in my eyes,
Can you see my soul?
Until you fall
from that height
and I catch you in my arms
to love you forever.
since today i am writing about you, baby…
you are the quench
for my thirst
that you are the food
for my hunger
that you are building my shelter
with your small, wiry hands
it is your hands
that are building pyramids.
Violet paranoia of the Colorado skyline
visions of clouds passing as if guided
by a hand unseen
the dried strokes of the brush
the only evidence
Lockdown seems like such a silly word
if anything we are locked in
if we so choose
don't wait for permission to chase dreams
push that door open
walk out that door
there is no virus at the end of the rainbow…
just fucking dance
like everybody is watching in a quarantine
fever dream by the fire
Standing atop an aged rock
with the skyline above me
like a crayola menagerie tapestry:
stretching as far as my human eyes
will let me see
it strikes me
if there is a God
he's speaking to me
right now
Not to fear death,
but accept it.
Not to accept life,
but treasure it.
Not to yearn for love,
but have it.
Not to break hearts,
but mend them.
Not to be famous
but to make your mark—
your special little indentation.
pounding rhythm echoes through my ears
down through my neck
resonates through the chambers of my heart
stings my inner thigh and stretches
my calf and sends my foot into cramp.
you know the sound—you've heard
on a cd or a tv.
your body reacts to the sound
mesmerized—hypnotized—tantalized…
the sound stops.
the doctor says, “your baby's got a healthy heart.”
my mother's birds were still chirping
when we were through.
Two dumb creatures trapped
in their small world…
chirping and singing
when it seems as if no one
can hear.
They don't need much…
a little food, a little love
perhaps, a tiny bit of pleasure.
These birds don't really matter
to the universe
but they don't know
can't know and
don't care to know…
trapped in their small, wiry cage.
my brother, the cop, speaking of the smell
of things burned…
a city housing project implodes
on my television…
a burgundy Tempo drives past my porch
with American flags flapping…
I glance at my digital clock on a Monday night
at eleven minutes after nine…
listening to a bittersweet poetry reading on Veteran's Day
my son turns to me and asks, “Daddy,
is this all true?”
kissing like teenagers
is not easy
for parents of two
yet
we lay with lights out
french kissing each other
moving
our hands over each other's body
as if it were the first time
only now
more gentle—more gentle
with the knowledge
of how each
works to keep the family
moving
the circle
flowing
the children
happy and loving
their
crazy soul moon kissing
mom and dad.
Original Seattle photography, available as high-resolution digital downloads — print at home or at your favorite lab.
The second installment of the trilogy, currently in progress.
Full manuscript complete, illustrations in progress.
Ongoing work in the same spirit as the 50 Days journal.
Greeting cards featuring original poetry, digital downloads, and print copies of Evolutions — available through the Etsy shop, GiftyBoutiqueAurora.
A selection of location and landscape photography, available for licensing through Shutterstock.
A story about a young elephant starting at a new school, finding the courage to explain his unusual name — and turning it into something his new friends love him for.
Illustrations coming soon. Character notes: Pinky is a young purple elephant with an unusually stretchy "pinky toe." Silver is a silver-grey elephant classmate. Greybeard is a grey elephant classmate with a tuft of hair at his chin. Style: warm, whimsical picture-book illustration, soft rounded shapes, bright color palette against a savanna/small-town backdrop.
Looking for an illustrator to bring Pinky and friends to life across 9 spreads. Style guide and full manuscript ready to share.
Inquire within →Brief: Pinky at his bedroom window at sunrise, watching moving trucks outside. Hopeful but nervous expression. Packed boxes visible in the room behind him.
Pinky knew the big moving day had arrived when he woke up to the sound of moving trucks outside his bedroom window. "I hope the elephants at my new school will like me," Pinky whispered to himself. After getting dressed, Pinky went to his kitchen to ask his mom, "Mom, do you think the new elephants will like me?" "Of course, Pinky. You'll be a great new friend for them." "I hope you are right."
Brief: Classroom scene. A teacher elephant with a clipboard takes attendance in front of a row of young elephants at small desks. Pinky sits smaller and purple among grey and silver classmates, a few kids snickering and whispering behind their trunks.
Pinky's first day at his new school arrived. His teacher began the day by calling out each student's name for attendance. "Silver, are you here?" "Greybeard, are you here?" "Pinky, are you here?" Pinky could hear the other elephants laughing at his unusual name.
Brief: Playground scene. Silver and Greybeard stand close together pointing and laughing at Pinky, who blushes a deep violet, ears drooping slightly. Other elephants watching in the background.
Silver said, "I think his parents must be color blind." Greybeard said, "Maybe we should call him Pinkbeard the pirate!" Another elephant asked, "Pinky, don't you know that you are purple?" Pinky's cheeks blushed to a deep violet.
Brief: A ring of elephants chanting and stomping playfully around Pinky on the playground, motion lines suggesting rhythm and noise. The teacher is visible in the background, mid-stride, about to intervene. Pinky looks embarrassed, shrinking in the middle.
Another elephant shouted, "Pinky, stinky, rinky, dinky." The teacher asked his class to be more respectful to Pinky. But whenever the teacher was not looking or could not hear, the elephants would all chant, "Pinky, stinky, rinky, dinky."
Brief: Cozy kitchen at evening. Pinky sits at the table looking down, shoulders slumped. His mom (adult purple elephant) leans in gently, trunk resting on his shoulder. Warm lamp light, soft color palette to contrast the sadness of the scene.
When Pinky returned home after his first day of school, he was sad. "Mom, all the kids made fun of my name." "Pinky, did you show them why we gave you that name?" Pinky looked down at his smallest toe. "No, I don't think they would have listened to me." "Tomorrow show them why and they will understand," assured Pinky's mom.
Brief: Playground again, but Pinky now stands tall and steady facing Silver, Greybeard, and the group, chin up, determined expression — a visible shift from his earlier posture. Greybeard tilts his head, curious rather than mocking.
His second day began as his first had ended. The other elephants started chanting, "Pinky, stinky, rinky, dinky." Pinky was embarrassed, but this time he drew the courage to say, "Do you want to know why my name is Pinky?" Greybeard said, "Sure, we'd love to hear this story." He turned to Silver and the other elephants and giggled. "This story should be even funnier than his name." Pinky said, "Follow me out to the peanut tree and I'll show you."
Brief: Tall peanut tree with pods hanging near the top. Pinky stretches his front legs up dramatically, and his tiny pinky toe stretches even further, cartoonishly elongated, hooking a peanut pod. Silver and Greybeard watch, mouths open in disbelief.
Pinky stepped up to the peanut tree and lifted up his front legs and stretched them as far as he could. Silver shouted, "Nobody can get the peanuts down without a ladder, Pinky!" Just when it seemed his legs could go no higher, Pinky uncurled his smallest toe, his pinky toe, and it stretched and stretched until he could reach the peanuts. He knocked them down from the tree with his pinky toe.
Brief: Joyful chaos — a whole circle of elephants stomping and dancing in a yard scattered with peanuts, dust kicked up, big smiles all around. Pinky is at the center, leading the dance, clearly proud and happy.
Greybeard said, "Wow, I've never seen an elephant who could get peanuts out of the peanut tree without using a ladder!" Silver exclaimed, "Pinky, that is amazing!" All the elephants shouted, "Pinky is the perfect name for this purple elephant!" Pinky said, "Now is the real fun. Everyone stomp around the yard and together we will make enough peanut butter to last the rest of the year!" So the elephants stomped and stomped and danced and danced.
Brief: Golden-hour path leading toward a small house. Pinky mid-stomp/dance step, tail swishing, huge happy grin, looking back over his shoulder at friends waving goodbye in the distance.
Pinky the purple elephant stomped and danced all the way to his new house. He couldn't wait for his third day of school with his new friends.
Currently seeking literary agent representation for the Evolutions Trilogy and the children's book Pinky the Purple Elephant. Also open to freelance writing and photography inquiries.
