E.C. Stilson's Blog, page 83

Which actor/actress would play you in a movie?

Thanks to Dimitri (click HERE to visit his blog) for tagging me to answer some fun questions about Homeless in Hawaii.






Click the picture to see it LIVE on Amazon!






Where did the idea come from for Homeless in Hawaii?
Every time I've told someone I was homeless, they gape. After all, I don't look like I've almost starved, or lived on the street at some point in my life. Then after the shock disappears, people ask questions wanting to know everything. 

     I'd never thought about detailing those 'adventures' until receiving several letters from people who read The Go lden Sky . In each letter, they asked about my experiences in Hawaii. This book is for those readers because their encouragement has meant so much.



What genre does your book fall under?

Memoir

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

Actors to play my part and Cade's . . . That's hard since we're real people. Hmmm . . . How about the main actress from The Help for me?




 







James Franco for Cade.






 

And for Blondie, the villain. 





 

And Cade's brother Chayne

Hugh Jackman








Tell us about your book in one sentence.

Elisa's only seventeen, homeless, and with a man she hardly knows; will they be able to put aside their differences and survive as street musicians?



Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

Published by Wayman Publ ishing .



How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

Two months for the first draft. Nearly six months to polish. I had a deadline though. Most of my books have taken several years.



What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?


Eat, Pray, Love






Who or What inspired you to write this book?

A lot of people inspired me to write this book, but mostly Cade and my writing mentor. Thank you.



What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

It's a story of self-discovery. I hope people will read this and see new aspects about themselves.



If any of you have written or are working on a book, I'd love to read your responses to these questions. If you write a blog about it, let me know and I'll mention it on a post. 

LAST DAY to Downlad Ten FREE Best Selling eBooks!

    If you'd like some FREE eBooks--and a chance to win free editing--please visit yesterday's post: Christmas Charity Book Fair & FREE eBooks!



    I missed Day 3 of Remembering Being Homeless in Hawaii. That was supposed to be: Things aren't always what they seem.  

    And indeed they aren't because I was sooo tired, I forgot to post.  Although I seem like the type who keeps deadlines, I faltered.  See what I'm saying, things aren't always what they seemed--even to ourselves.   



Today is Day 4 of Remembering Hawaii.  And it is . . . dun dun dun dun:


REAL love is different than what we think when we're young.





    Over the years I've been surprised with how much Cade is a friend AND a husband.  While in Hawaii, we became friends.  

We needed each other to survive on the streets.  Most of the time it wasn't romantic--especially that one part where he "friended" me (you can read about that in the free excerpt on Amazon).





Click the picture.

Amazon!





Anyway, now we've been together for over 12 years.  Although we have our constant ups and downs, I love that man--and things are still never my fault since I'm a woman :)


See what I mean!

He CHEATED!

Christmas Charity Book Fair & FREE eBooks!

Pssst!  I have to tell you something exciting before showing you the great deals and FREE eBooks below.

Homeless in Hawaii was secretly released early AND it's already #54 in one of Amazon's Top 100 Lists.







Welcome to the Christmas Book Fair! 
SCROLL DOWN


to find FREE eBooks

that you can download from Amazon right now!





We're proud to announce the publication of 




Open Doors: Fractured Fairy Tales .
Much of the profit from this anthology will be donated to Primary Children's Hospital in the form of Christmas gifts we'll bring to the long-term patients staying there.





To celebrate this wonderful release, we've teamed up with many authors to bring you this weekend event.




 For three whole days--December 2-3-4--you can find these eBooks for great prices.

Amazon.com Widgets















. . . And . . .

Enter to win great prizes!

 
 
a Rafflecopter giveaway


 

Winners will be announced on 12/8.   

 

. . . Also . . .

 

Discover Newly Released Books!









.goodreadsGiveawayWidget { color: #555; font-family: georgia, serif; font-weight: normal; text-align: left; font-size: 14px;
font-style: normal; background: white; }
.goodreadsGiveawayWidget img { padding: 0 !important; margin: 0 !important; }
.goodreadsGiveawayWidget a { padding: 0 !important; margin: 0; color: #660; text-decoration: none; }
.goodreadsGiveawayWidget a:visted { color: #660; text-decoration: none; }
.goodreadsGiveawayWidget a:hover { color: #660; text-decoration: underline !important; }
.goodreadsGiveawayWidget p { margin: 0 0 .5em !important; padding: 0; }
.goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink { display: block; width: 150px; margin: 10px auto 0 !important; padding: 0px 5px !important;
text-align: center; line-height: 1.8em; color: #222; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold;
border: 1px solid #6A6454; -moz-border-radius: 5px; -webkit-border-radius: 5px; font-family:arial,verdana,helvetica,sans-serif;
background-image:url(http://www.goodreads.com/images/layou... background-repeat: repeat-x; background-color:#BBB596;
outline: 0; white-space: nowrap;
}
.goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink:hover { background-image:url(http://www.goodreads.com/images/layou...
color: black; text-decoration: none; cursor: pointer;
}




Goodreads Book Giveaway






Sydney's Song


by Ia Uaro


Giveaway ends December 20, 2012.


See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.




Enter to win
































  Amazon.com Widgets

  



DOWNLOAD FREE eBooks

right now from Amazon by clicking on the books below: 







Amazon.com Widgets
 





The hosts would like to thank everyone.
Wayman Publishing

VoiceBoks






We hope you've enjoyed discovering new authors and their stories

at our Christmas Book Fair.





If you'd like to share this post, 

please feel free to grab the following code:































Amazon.com Widgets





a Rafflecopter giveaway
















P.S. Today is Day 2 of remembering being homeless in Hawaii.

My memory for today is that even if you have nothing, it's still better to give than to receive ;) 

Pachelbel's Canon ROCK-STYLE in D--Fiddling Around!

    First off, a fellow blogger did one of THE NICEST things anyone has ever done for me.  Go HERE to see how kind people are!  I feel sooooo blessed.



    Also, a big book fair will start tomorrow.  It will kick off the release of Open Doors: Fractured Fairy Tales AND Homeless in Hawaii !



    Following Debra Kristi's idea, I've decided to do something to remember Hawaii each day for the next ten days.



    My memory for today is of playing music on the street.  Here's an example of my musical style--so you can envision how I survived as a homeless street musician at the age of seventeen.

My Funny Major Medical--FREE today only!

Click the picture to get your free copy today.

A Funny Christmas Story: Part 3

    This is a continuation from yesterday.

    Have you ever expected something wonderful to happen and then been terribly disappointed?

    Well, I worried my customer would get the white dress I made, and then be disappointed because she'd given me a giant's measurements.  That dress--as Fishducky said--would fit Dennis Rodman, not a nine-year-old girl.

    This reminds me of a recent story about disappointment. . . .

    On Thanksgiving, the Scribe got a fuzzy bird-pen from Grandma Gertie.

    The Scribe practically lives for unique things like this.  

    








She was so thrilled that she made a special bed for it, gave it sunflower seeds and sang songs to it.  She named the bird Herman and even started calling him Hermies.  That all happened before she forgot to lock her bedroom door on Monday. . . .



Here's the official report:



    Shortly after leaving the bedroom unlocked, tragedy struck. Herman--the Scribe's treasured pen-bird--was accosted by two toddlers.  In that instant he was robbed blind--literally.  He's subsequently gone bald from shock.





 

 

   I'm a terribly mother, but this made me laugh so hard I could have peed my pants!

    Fortunately, Grandma Gertie has another pen-bird in storage.  The Scribe will be thrilled on her birthday (12/10) when she gets a brand new Herman.

    So, back to the sewing story.  Sometimes unexpected things happen.  And that's what befell the poor woman who ordered the dress and then gave me huge measurements.

    I sat drinking a coke as I opened my email that day.  I nearly spewed it everywhere when I opened a picture of a beautiful little girl.  The massive dress rested underneath her, taking up a good portion of the room.  She sat on top of it, looking like Thumbelina.

    "You were right," the woman said in the email, being extra sweet.  "I think I gave measurement in centimeters.  Even then it seem wrongly done."

    "I can alter it," I typed back.  "I bet I can make it a child's size ten and it will fit your daughter perfectly."

    "No," she responded. "It will make a wedding dress for my family. I'll have it fixed in Israel."

    So, I wondered later.  Was it just a mistake, or had it simply been for a huge woman on her wedding day?  After all, I used a lot of fabric at a third the cost.

A Funny Christmas Story: Part 2

This is a continuation from yesterday.

    "These measurements seem strange." I emailed a woman from Israel. She'd recently ordered this outfit from me:


 




    I waited for a reply, stood on the coffee table and dangled the measuring tape in front of myself.  I reached up higher and still wasn't able to stand as tall as the woman wanted the dress.

    "She must mean centimeters. Not inches," I mumbled to myself.

    I checked my email after that and was shocked to get a very snippy reply.  "I give you measurement. Those are correct measurement."

    I bit my lip.  Those measurements couldn't be right.  That dress would be a circus tent--or fit for a Yeti!  Seriously, did Goliath move to Israel and start a new breed of giants?!

    "How old is the girl this dress is for?" I responded.  "Do you mean centimeters?"   

    "I ALREADY give measurement in inches. She is 9. Please start on dress soon. I sent payment. I need soon."

     So I started on the dress, thinking I would have charged more had a known how huge this "child" was.  The cost of the fabric was many times the regular cost.  It would have made a better comforter than an outfit.

    While sewing I tried thinking of the bright side.  At least I was working for myself. . . . I could set my own hours.  I didn't have to work the graveyard as a waitress.

    As I pieced the set together, all over the front room, I remembered the drunks who always came into the dinner while I used to work as a waitress.  "The customer is always right," my boss said. 

    I tried being respectful even though I thought he was wrong. A new drunk came in after that.  The bars had just closed and the maddening rush was about to begin. "How many beers would it take to get you out of those clothes?" the drunk asked as I served him coffee.

    I glared at him.  "As many as it would take for you to actually seem good looking."

    He slammed his hot coffee on the tabletop.  Some sloshed over the side, dousing his hand, but he was too drunk to care. "To actually seem good looking . . . to you?"

    "You're right," I said, sashaying away, "that probably isn't even possible."

    I almost got fired for that--because 'customers are always right'.  And to think, that stupid drunk had been talking about my nakedness--in public!

    I shook off the memory and continued sewing.  That was the beauty of being a seamstress--it gave me time to think about all sorts of things.  

    In that moment, the tent-dress didn't seem quite so bad.  At least the woman who ordered it couldn't get me fired, or drunkenly offend me as I served coffee.

    It took days and days to finish the set. I pressed it--on the big kitchen table--and folded it into a huge box.  After finding out the cost to ship it, the woman from Israel had a stroke of kindness and paid extra for that.

    "Much thanks," she said, when I told her it had been mailed. "We are eager for this dress. It is winter gift. You work hard and fast."

    I shook.  She was actually excited--and so sure of her measurements.  But honestly, no one could fit into that dress--except maybe Kobe Bryant.  

 

What in the world would the woman think when she got the giant's dress?  Is the customer always right--did her daughter have a growth defect . . . or something?  Or was this lady like that drunken man, so obviously wrong.




To be continued tomorrow. . . .     

I Sewed THROUGH my finger: a funny Christmas Story

On Thanksgiving I sewed straight through my middle finger with my Bernina heavy-duty stitcher.  As the needle went through the second time, I pulled and the needle broke off.  Yeah . . . it wasn't fun.  But it's better than cutting a finger in half on a table saw--which I've also done.  Plus, it reminded me of my most hilarious Christmas moment and WHY I hate sewing.


 _____________________________________________
    To refresh your memory, I used to have a sewing business--one of the biggest of its kind on ebay.  I had over 500 customs outfits for sale at once.

    Here are some of the many sets I used to make.









 










I also specialized in funky appliques that
people could design themselves.  

For example: two years ago a lady requested a pink-Christmas--zebra--Gingerbread Girl. That was a tough one! But here's what I came up with:

 

 

 

So you get the point. I was in business for six years, and I sewed A LOT. 



    Well, my funniest Christmas experience happened after a woman from Israel ordered this outfit.

 

 

    "For a little girl dressed as a bride?" the email simply said.  

    "Sure." I responded.  "This could work as a bride costume."

    She immediately sent the payment and the language barrier continued.   I meticulously deciphered each email and I'm sure she did the same.  Things went well that first day.

    Too bad I had no idea what waited in the future.  It still makes me laugh so hard I could cry.

    To be continued tomorrow. . . .

The Turkey Avenger--The 1st Story I Ever Had Published!

The Turkey Avenger

Originally published in the Christmas Lites I Anthology 

(I'm posting this today since the sequel is now available for sale HERE .)



By: EC Stilson


I’m a turkey
and yes, I hate Thanksgiving. Why do people always ask me about the
holidays? I hate them--shocking, I know. Maybe you think I’m just
stupid, or being an ungrateful, ornery cluck, but you’re wrong. I’m
known for my bravery and keen insight. I'm a gobbler that knows right
from wrong. I was raised by wolves. Trained by one-eyed chickadee
ninjas! Other birds call me the Turkey Avenger--well, they would, if I could avenge a turkey.

    So, now you know my secret: I’m special and maybe that’s why Gypsy
Ruth caught me for her ceremony. She’s been fattening me up for years,
always getting ready. She’s done her job well too. I literally roll out
of bed. I stand and my belly sits on the ground. I tried flying once
last year, but my left wing got stuck in my feathery fat rolls.

    This kind of obesity isn’t ordinary, just another thing to prove
Gypsy Ruth is actually a witch. She’s mean and rigid like an old
scarecrow. She has dreadlocks and shabby clothes. She has a broom--but
never sweeps. She has a black cat--who gives bad luck! But the worst
thing about my master, the absolute pain in my flabby butt, is that she
plans on eating me today, on Thanksgiving.

    Now do you see why some people hate the holidays? Stop being so
judgmental! Has anyone ever tried killing you on a holiday? And don’t tell
me you “know what I mean,” when you have no feather-brained idea.
   
The woman who owns me is plain nuts, like covered almonds WITHOUT the
chocolate. She has shifty eyes and a cackle that makes Cerberus sound
good. She’s ugly and stupid--compared to me anyway. She’s sinister and
vile, bread without butter, and if I have to spend one more moment with
her, I might turn into a hen and lay eggs!

    This morning, she drove our covered wagon deep into the desert. The
horses grew so tired. I heard them talking about pains in their legs.
They weren’t the only uncomfortable ones. It was so bouncy, my fat rolls
kept hitting me in the face and my beak almost punctured my
bellybutton. But after we stopped, things were better. I dragged myself
onto the dusty porch, and the hot sun made my breast feathers sparkle.

    I looked over at old Ruthie. She pulled out supplies for a fire, put
strange stars on the ground and even talked to herself, croaking like a
human who smokes for a living.
    “I lost him,” she said. “His heart is gone, but I’ll be bringing him back. I has me spell book, I do. I has it.”

    She patted a large, fading book, then sat on a rock.
    I studied our surroundings. Dunes stretched for miles, yet Ruth rested under the only tree within sight.
    “You know, she plans on eating you tonight,” a slippery voice said.

    The black cat, Sparta lounged into a sitting position. His tail licked the side of the pealing caravan.
    “I’d like to see her try eating me,” I said valiantly, pretending to be an eagle, as my feet shook.
    “Oh?” Sparta laughed. “And why’s that?”

    “Because . . . some birds call me the Turkey Avenger.”
    Sparta laughed in the sporadic way only cats do. “We’ll see. We shall see.”
    “Even if I wasn’t the Turkey Avenger, I still have my wishbone.”
    “Oh, don’t go into that again.”

    “I will.” My eyes turned to slits. My snood swayed and my beak clenched. “Every turkey
has a wishbone. Folks say you can use it for wishing, but the most
powerful wish is the first one. I’d like to remind you, that I’ve never
used my wish.”

    “Always saving it for the right time?” Sparta cut in. “Listen, Turkey.
I don’t care how long you’ve waited to use your wish. It just won’t
happen. Wishbones aren’t real, unlike cats and nine lives. Now, THAT is
real!

    “But you,” the cat continued, “you need to come to terms with
reality. This is your last night--accept it. By tomorrow morning, Ruth
will make a wish with all your bones.”
    My heart thumped so hard,
my bright head feathers shivered. It couldn’t be my last night. I wasn’t
done living. All I ever wanted was to avenge some poor schmuck of a turkey,
meet a bird who’d be dumb enough to date me. I’d take her as my wife if
she had nice legs. After all, there are two important things in
marriage--legs and the ability to avenge.

    “What about you, Sparta? How many lives do you have left?” I know he
hates that question. He might not know, but I’ve been counting. I know
he’s on his last life.
    He turned away and started licking his butt then--he does that when he’s upset. Seems he’s always upset.

    Would I really die? If there’s one thing that can ruin the holidays,
it’s death. I thought of my wishbone and my one wish. Time passed and
we remained quiet as Gypsy Ruth read for hours.
    Soon, the sun
crashed at the end of the Earth. Darkness conquered the sky and the
witch built a fire. The ground practically gasped as she moved, her
presence so evil the flames didn’t even distort her shadow.

    “He was being born first,” she chanted. “Born on Thanksgiving. Being
taken by death . . . Before his time. Now, he MUST come forth. We shall
reunite for all time and we shall rule the world!”
    Her eyes
found mine. I stood straight, although my stomach still dusted the
porch. I knew then why she’d saved me for so many years. She wanted to
eat me, celebrate after her son came back from the dead. She wanted my
wishbone!

    She turned to the tree in that moment. Her hands clawed at the
ground. Hardened earth filled her nails. Her teeth barred like a
ravenous dog and I wondered how crazy one person could be. When her arms
rested deep inside the hole, Ruth’s vile laughter ripped through the
air. She held a box over her head and screamed, “He shall be coming
forth!”

    Chills went through my gizzard. I cringed at the site because she’s the ugliest woman alive.
   
See, this is exactly why I hate Thanksgiving. It’s never a normal,
happy day. Someone either gets lost in the forest, gets stuffed, or
forgets the gravy!

    The sky cracked as Ruth chanted more. “Reunite . . . Reunite . . . We will eat turkey tonight!”
   
Seriously? Does her life revolve around my juicy white meat? I tried
joking, but when I looked at Sparta, my fear boiled to the surface.

    I gaped at Ruth as she came closer. She suddenly grabbed me around
the waist and clutched me at her side. I tried moving, but she was more
powerful than Edesia! With her free hand, she pulled a hair from the
box. I gobbled and struggled to no avail.

    We moved closer to the fire, its heat toasting my feathers. This was it--the moment I would die.
    Ruth held the hair up into the air. “Tonight, my son will live . . . And you,” she turned to me, “will die.”
    She chanted again. “Reunite. Reunite.” Then with one last “reunite,” she threw the hair toward the fire.

    By how she clutched me, I knew I was next, knew it was my turn!
    My death hovered in the wind like a stupid marionette. I don’t know why I did it. Maybe it was for turkeys
everywhere. But before anything else happened, as that hair descended
into the raging fire, I made a wish. That was the moment I used my
wishbone.

    “On the wishbone!” I screamed, “Somehow save my life!”
    The
hair hit the fire. Sparks flew everywhere. The light became so blinding I
looked away as Ruth fell motionless, dropping me in the action. I
rolled closer to the caravan, then turned, gawking behind me.

    A shimmering head took shape in the fire. It twisted and turned
until a neck appeared hooking it to a body. The face seemed kind,
stronger than time as it rose above the flames and became a translucent
being, stepping from the fire. He walked to Ruth and then me. “Oh,
dear one,” he said. “You are . . . the Turkey Avenger.”

    “I am?” I asked.
    “Oh, yes.” He grinned. “For you have saved a turkey.”
   
He drifted to Ruth, shook her and she shuddered as if waking from a
slumber. She smiled, casting off the years of evil and heartache. “I’ve
been missing you.” She hugged him, although her arms seemed to float
through him.

    “And I you,” he said. “Come, Mother. We are reunited. Come. The turkey has made this possible.”
   
They walked, laughing and joking for a long time. The woman no longer
hobbled or crept along. The farther she walked the more youthful and
joyous she appeared.

    I stayed lying on my side until they were far from sight. “So what should we do? Leave the woman’s body here?” Sparta asked.
    “What? What do you mean?” I turned to where he’d motioned and indeed he was right, the woman’s body lay still with death.

    “You wouldn’t plan on going without me?” I asked.
    “And leave the Turkey Avenger? No way. It’s not everyday I see someone avenge a turkey, even if it was themself. This might be my last life, and I refuse to live it alone.”

    I said one last “goodbye” to Ruth and then practically rolled toward the caravan. This was a Thanksgiving to remember.
   
The horses argued about the best places to visit, Sparta licked his
butt, and a female vulture circled above in the moon-lit sky. As I
struggled getting into the caravan, I couldn’t help thinking one last
thing, “That vulture sure has nice legs.”

Black Friday--More FREE eBooks

These eBooks will be FREE on Black Friday only.




Amazon.com Widgets






















Additionally, Homeless in Hawaii has been released today.

Click the picture to find it for 2.99 on Amazon.