Corbin G MuckCorbin was writing before he could even read -- scribbling his stories into second-hand moleskins using an invented shorthand that was as quickly forgotten as it was conceived. His first published work -- a 400 word epic bound into book form by a suportive teacher -- was a cribbing of Lord of the Rings so blatant that it only avoided a lawsuit because of the poor press that might result in the Tolkien estate suing a fourth grader in SW Washington State. As the years came on, while Corbin scrubbed teppanyaki grills, felled timber in the Chuckanut Mountains, ran zip lines in Northern Ireland, and lived his happiest years in the squalor of a Dickensian boarding house on an AmeriCorps stipend of $900 a month, he started to pursue his writing in earnest.His works have appeared in The Southern Review, CIRQUE, Quarterly West, and Crannóg. His fiction spans multiple genres -- ranging from the imagined hundred year history of an impossibly vast subterranean national park, to the story of two doomed handymen facing down an apocalypse that comes first for the world, for their senses, and then for language itself. His works can be funny. They can be macabre. Wistful and barbed. But they are always fiercely relevant. Read More Read Less