Treece Ealy: Writing Prodigy

Meet Treece Ealy. He’s eleven years old and he’s a writer. He writes poetry, comedies, parodies, nonfiction, and now he’s writing a book.
This young prodigy began writing in the second grade. He is homeschooled, but received some additional writing instruction from former Conway High School English teacher, June Simmons, over the past year at Blackbird Academy. At Blackbird, he has studied different kinds of writing. Most recently, he has been learning about haikus.
He is a member of two local writers’ groups, one at the Faulkner County Library and one at the Conway Senior Citizens Center, where he has been reading portions of his work. His parents, Billie and Amie Ealy, are also part of the writers’ group at the senior center and have read excerpts from their writing as well.
Treece has written up to fifty poems and pieces of prose. His favorite genre to write in is comedy. “I like to write parodies. I enjoy writing comedy the most,” said Treece.
One of Treece’s favorite original comedies that he has written is a story about a man who is terrorized by his wife’s parents when his family goes to their house for a visit. He recently read this to the Writers’ Group at the senior center.
The fantasy fiction book he is currently writing, “The Atomic Firecracker: Little Boy,” is set in India. Jackson Greene, a 12-year-old boy, uses a new, yet illegal, weapon and is hunted down by the government. Treece has already written ten of the thirty chapters he has planned for the book. His dream is for the book to eventually become a movie.
As is the case with most writers, Treece is a voracious reader. “He has piles of books in his room. He has read a wide variety of literature. Some are old classics like, ‘The Old Man and the Sea.’ He has also read some Hawthorne works. He especially enjoys fantasy, and has read the Percy Jackson books as well as the Harry Potter books,” said his mother, Amie.
His favorite school subject is history. He particularly loves learning about World War II, and is fascinated with music history. He is a huge Elvis fan and has been to Graceland several times. “He celebrates Elvis’ birthday every year!” said Amie.
Treece is developing his talents and skills in other areas of the arts as well. He has been taking guitar lessons from Jack’s Music/Preston Palmer Studios since last October. He will soon begin learning to play bass. He has also been taking art classes at the Arkansas Art Center.
This summer he attended the three-week Summer Theater Academy at the Arkansas Arts Center where he took classes in movement, voice and diction, focus, improv, and an introduction to technical theater. At the end of the workshop, the students did a public performance of “If the Lonely were Home” to demonstrate what they had learned. Treece had dual roles—he played the mayor as well as a crow.
In addition to developing his creative talents, Treece also finds time to volunteer in his community. He works in the Storehouse at the Conway Ministry Center every Thursday. There he helps in the client choice food pantry. He also has helped as a volunteer for Feed the Need, sorting and putting up food.
Here are a few of his favorite poems that he has written:
Thy Calm Blaze
(Written in Shakespearean)
The sun doth shine bright, whilst birds chirpeth. Summertime doth make thy heart pound with glory and chivalry. I hope thy sun doth stayeth that way forevermore. Alas, thy glorious blaze was not made in and for this world to stay ablaze forever, but for us to enjoy whilst it lasts. So I bask in thy glorious rays for thy heat doth radiate me.
Untitled Poem
Feel at ease, and hear bread crackling in the oven, for these are the sounds of home.
Hear gunfire all around you, and hear the shouts of battle.
Take heart and look alive, for these are the sounds of war.
Hear cheering and feel relief, for these are the sounds of victory.
Feel a medal around your neck, and hear applause, for these are the sounds of a legend.
Red and White
I look outside and I see a Cardinal of red. I see it take off from its cradle of limbs in the tree, snow glancing off its wings. It’ll be back. It always comes back.