Posts tagged “writer

Today Marks the 5th Anniversary of the Publication of My First Novel

Songs for the New DepressionIt’s hard to believe that my labor of love, my first novel, Songs for the New Depression, was published five years ago today. Over 12 years in the making, the main character in the book was inspired by the illness and subsequent death of my once-partner, Shane Sawick. While that character, Gabriel Travers, may have Shane’s biting wit, the darker traits the character exhibits are not really Shane’s at all, but mine. When I was younger, I was driven by my insecurities which, allowed to fester, could make me incredibly nasty. Happily, I’ve worked through much of that, but that memory–of treating others with disdain, keeping them at arms length through dripping sarcasm–still hangs over me today, helping to remind me of how to best treat those I love, and the consequences such narcissism can have on one’s soul.

To this day, “Songs” remains to the creative accomplishment of which I’m most proud. Not only did I keep a promise to myself over that long, 12-year stretch just to finish the damn thing, but as I’m not by training a “writer,” I still feel satisfaction in the final product. Of course, there are piddly things that I wish I could clean up, but I was able to tell the dark, redemptive story I wanted to tell, in all its messiness.

I never envisioned how much I would learn on that journey to publication, about book formatting, publishing, marketing, video production, website design, and so much more… To think, at my then-age of 46, I would be on an upward learning curve at that particular stage of my life was awesome–and rather remarkable.

Even more remarkable was to learn of the book’s reception and how it touched people. I received notes from folks sharing their stories of love and loss in the age of AIDS, and tributes to those they cherished. One reader read the novel four times, at last count, and found a continuity error both my editors and I had missed! (One of those ‘piddly things’ I wish I could go back and fix.)

I didn’t write the book for reviews or awards, yet was pleasantly surprised when both came freely. I’ve shared them below, but just as important for me in hearing the positive remarks was in learning the negative.

On one person’s website, they castigated me for being misogynistic and trans-phobic, which–if you’re remotely aware of me and my activism–you would know that I am not. Still, I had to take in that criticism and let it resonate. While the character of Gabe is both misogynistic and trans-phobic (truly, he is anti-anyone-but-himself), I had to really consider the possibility that the emotions he expressed were somehow, by osmosis, my own. Given this criticism, I tried to step back and consider the book as a whole. In doing so, I realized that almost all of the nurturing characters offering him a chance at redemption are women (save Jon.) Ultimately, women are the ones reaching out their hand to save Gabriel, most likely because, at my core, I wish my mother would do the same for me.

Five years is a long time. Since then, I’ve published a book of short stories (Gifts Not Yet Given), been through a brutal custody battle, and moved with my family to an entirely different state, where we live a much more peaceful mountain life. While I’m at work on a memoir, it’s been slow going, at best. Part of that is due to our emotional and financial recovery from that legal struggle, and part is a bigger issue: How do I tell a truthful account of my life, in an entertaining way for the reader, and yet in a way in which honors all involved?

Happily, I think I’ve finally found that key, and I look forward to sharing that book with you. Hopefully sooner than another five years!

Cheers,

Kergan

*****

SONGS FOR THE NEW DEPRESSION

indiebookawards2012 Next Generation Indie Book Award – LGBTQ
Independent Literary Awards – LGBTQ Shortlist
Best Books of 2012 – Out in Print Reviews
Best LGBTQ Literature of 2012 – Indie Reviews
Top 5 Books of 2012 – Alfred Lives Here
Top 10 Books of 2012 – Butterfly-O-Meter Books

Advocate.com raves that “Kergan Edwards-Stout has crafted a work of fiction reminiscent of some classic tales in Songs for the New Depression. Even better, Edwards-Stout’s debut boasts the kind of dark humor that made Augusten Burroughs (Running With Scissors, Dry) a household name.”

Kirkus Reviews (“The World’s Toughest Book Critics”) calls it an “engaging debut… Edwards-Stout infuses reality and hopefulness into a bittersweet story about compassion and personal growth.  A distinctively entertaining novel written with moxie and bolstered by pitch-perfect perspectives.”

Five-time Lambda Literary award-winning author Michael Nava says, “”Songs for the New Depression is an affecting novel, written with great literary flair.  I recommend it.”

Buy Now!
The critically acclaimed debut novel of Kergan Edwards-Stout, Songs for the New Depression, is available now in hardcover, paperback, and all e-Book formats, and can be purchased at BarnesandNoble.com, Amazon.com, and other fine booksellers.

What’s It About?
Gabriel Travers knows he’s dying; he just can’t prove it. Despite his doctor’s proclamations to the contrary and rumors of a promising new HIV drug cocktail, all it takes is one glance into the mirror to tell Gabe everything he needs to know. His ass, once the talk of West Hollywood, now looks suspiciously like a Shar-Pei, prompting even more talk around town.  Now almost 40, and with the clock ticking, Gabe begins to finally peel back the layers and tackle his demons — with a little help from the music of the Divine Miss M and his mom’s new wife, a country music-loving priest.

Praise for Songs for the New Depression
“Edwards-Stout’s satiric wit belies a smoothly written, circumspect story.” Library Journal

“Simply stunning… This tale of love and life constantly brought me to both laughter and tears. To those of us who loved and lost this is an important read to assist your reconciliation. It has mine. To those who have heard the stories, this love letter should be required reading. The characters are nicely carved and as they come to terms with moral decisions, it ultimately to me was all about getting through ones life awake and alive.”  Dana Miller, Frontiers Magazine/Los Angeles

“Brilliantly conceived and masterfully written… You’ll read this once for its emotional impact and again to see how the author achieves it. But no matter how many times you dive in, you’ll be impressed.” Out in Print Reviews

Songs for the New Depression is a thoughtful read that should speak to many.” Midwest Book Review

“Compelling, beautifully written debut novel… The author’s darkly comic, brutally honest prose reads like poetry and has a melodic flow that is equally funny and heartbreaking. Gabe’s story is bittersweet, heartfelt and profound… A quintessential page-turner and the product of a truly gifted author.” Edge on the Net

“From LA to Palm Springs to Paris, over the course of 20 years, Kergan Edwards-Stout takes us on a beautiful journey. The characters are dynamic, interesting, and real, and the relationships are painful and funny and romantic and sexy and sad all at once.” Q Magazine

Songs for the New Depression is an affecting novel, written with great literary flair. I particularly enjoyed its portrait of Los Angeles in the 80’s and 90’s, as well as the author’s brave willingness to write about the AIDS epidemic at a time when so many of us seem to want to forget that terrifying era. At times laugh aloud funny, and at other times intensely moving, it is the first of what I hope will be many books to come from Kergan Edwards-Stout. I recommend it.” Michael Nava, author (Five Lambda Literary Awards, winner of The Publishing Triangle’s Bill Whitehead Lifetime Achievement Award for Gay and Lesbian literature)

“Many tout this book as an important piece of fiction that should be read by all because of it’s portrayal of AIDS. I’ll give them that. I would add that it’s not only an important piece of fiction because of the message, but it’s a great piece of fiction writing regardless of the message.” LGBT Book Review Blog

“The laughs make the book deceptively breezy. Songs shines with psychological truth and historical accuracy.” A&U magazine

“Edwards-Stout has written a wonderful book in which he takes on AIDS and depression from a personal point of view and he does so with great style and wit.”  Amos Lassen, Reviews by Amos

“This is a work that will make you both laugh and cry, and fair warning: it is difficult to get through certain portions of the text because Edwards-Stout is quite explicit in detail, which is testament to the fact that he is such a brilliant writer. This is not one to miss.” Liberty Press

“Five Stars.”  Bob Lind, ECHO Magazine/Our Bookshelf

“If a roller-coaster ride of sadness and humor sounds right up your alley, then look for Songs for the New Depression by Kergan Edwards-Stout. This is the story of a man who knows he’s dying, knows he’s made a lot of mistakes in his life, and knows that he needs to fix things before the end. I won’t tell you the end. Read the book.” Terri Schlichenmeyer, The Bookworm Sez syndicated column

“Involving, emotional read… Songs For The New Depression touched me and stayed with me.” Alfred Lives Here

Songs for the New Depression is an enjoyable and addictive read.  In fact, don’t be surprised if you find yourself not answering texts and neglecting your Facebook updates as you finish the book in one read.  I did.” Q Vegas Magazine

“The NY Times ought to be reviewing Songs for the New Depression, not the likes of me.  It is a beautiful book, and, I think, an important one.” Ulysses Grant Dietz, author

“One of the most emotional, touching, heart-wrenching, and intelligent stories I’ve read in a very long time. With a dark wit reminding me of David Sedaris, this story examines the life of a man who’s made many mistakes and, at the end, has managed to learn a few lessons… The language is sophisticated and elegant, each word precise, depicting clear images and evoking specific emotions. The description, whether of location, food, clothing, people, or emotions draws the reader into the moment as if it were actually happening. As a result, we experience Gabe’s highs and lows on a powerful level, truly understanding Gabe, his limitations, and his dreams.Wrapped up in a sad story, illustrated with disappointments and heart-break, is a story of hope and understanding.” Top2Bottom Reviews

“Kergan Edwards-Stout’s Songs for the New Depression is a bold reminder that life, especially in its most difficult moments, is worth living.  His characters are real and poignant, his writing is magical, and his message is timeless. Life is at its most precious when we are faced with our own mortality. It is an important book.”  Charles Perez, author of Confessions of a Gay Anchorman and founder of the No Shame Project.

“This is an incredibly important book.” Chapters and Chats

Songs for the New Depression is an impressive, innovative, and dynamic love story. Rich, witty, and vivid, this is a heart-wrenching, hilarious and sometimes shocking journey of an everyman-narcissist who finally finds redemption in embracing his humanity and ultimately reunites with the hero he was always looking for between the lines of Paris, Bette Midler, and all things fabulous. I found myself singing along until I was able to shout, ‘Amen!’” Steven Fales, Confessions of a Mormon Boy

“This book touched me at the core of my being!  It is a story of love and devotion, and a self examination of a dying man… I read this book in just a couple of days because I could not stop once I started reading.” Book Talk With Charla

“Kergan Edwards-Stout has written a masterpiece. A bravura debut novel, its heartfelt message is ultimately timeless.  It is easily one of the top ten books I’ve enjoyed in the past decade.  Once you start this one, you won’t be able to stop.” Carey Parrish, author of Marengo and Big Business

Songs for the New Depression carries you away on waves of humor and sadness as we follow the protagonist as he deals with his search for love, acceptance and his battle with AIDS. Far from being maudlin, it is extremely sensitive and ennobling. A fine work that will leave you wanting more.”  Robert Michael Morris, star of TV’s The Comeback and author of An American Scrapbook


I’m on Rated G Radio Thursday March 26

Garrett Miller Looking for some great conversation? Join host and hottie Garrett Miller and me as we chat about the topics of the day on Rated G Radio. It all happens on Thursday March 26, 7pm Pacific/10pm Eastern. You can follow the show at Super Gay Radio and call in with your comments at 323-657-1493.

Last time we chatted, we covered everything from the Long Beach port shutdown to Lady Gaga, and everything in between that is gay-gay-gay, so you know you’re in for a good time!


Twenty Years Ago Today…

Shane - LouvreIt is astounding how our bodies hold and store memories, filing them away, only to open their drawer unexpectedly to remind us of their presence. I had planned on sleeping in late this morning, as I rarely do anymore given that we have kids, but our dog Toby was whining to be let out. Even so, I tried to remain half asleep as I did so, returned to bed, and placed an eye mask over my eyes. On my first deep inhale to restore sleep, though, I immediately woke fully: today marks Shane’s last full day of life, exactly twenty years ago.

It seems impossible that so much time has gone by, as so much of him and that experience remains within me, prompting memories such as this. I think of him often and relate to our children each year, as we unpack Shane’s trove of nutcrackers, just who he was and what he meant to me. And yet I’ve also packed so much into those subsequent years (a commitment ceremony, the birth of Mason, the unexpected and dramatic breakup of that relationship, subsequent costly court battles with my ex, the years of trying to heal, eventually meeting Russ, adopting Marcus, getting married, writing books and embarking on countless other new adventures), that the length of time also seems substantial… As if another life, one so disconnected with the life I lead today.

Just a few weeks ago, on March 5, I turned 50. It was twenty years ago, on the day of my turning 30 in 1995 that we checked Shane into the hospital, where he would die two weeks later.

That year, we had planned for me a simple 30th… Given Shane’s months of decline, I could not bear any major celebrations, of attention being placed on me instead of Shane, and instead opted for my family to join us in L.A. for dinner and cake. When I called my mom to tell her that couldn’t happen, as Shane would be in the hospital, her words and tone communicated to me that she felt as if his health were a direct attempt to sabotage her plans.

For this year’s birthday, I opted for no celebration as well. For some reason, I just didn’t want the attention. I took my birthday off Facebook, blocked the ability of people to post to my wall, and decided instead to have a simple family dinner. Many thought that I was hesitant about turning 50, but I have no qualms about aging. I wear my years on earth and my varied experiences as a badge of honor. But this morning I realized that my reluctance for attention is also tied into Shane and what he was going through 20 years ago on this very day.

Shane and Kergan - Eiffel TowerIn the fall of the prior year, 1994, we’d gone to Europe. I’d never been and Shane wanted to return, both as a likely last-hurrah and to share it with me. While he’d had a few minor health incidents in the months leading up to our trip, as well as a decline in t-cells, he was still relatively healthy. But our 5 week journey to France and Italy took an increasing toll on him as each day progressed. By the time we got to Rome, from which we’d depart, it was physically apparent how taxing the trip had been–you could see the strain on his face. All of the walking and stairs had been too much, and those last few days he would journey out from our hotel only once each day, to quickly take in a sight, sometimes just from a taxi cab window, and then we’d return back to the hotel again. Too weak to go out for meals, I’d bring him takeout–he was craving McDonald’s–and I became inordinately familiar with their location near the Spanish Steps.

Upon our return to the states, his health began to quickly spiral downward. He began having mobility issues. Walking down a straight corridor, he would suddenly veer to the right or left, or stumble. Driving, he would either abruptly stop short, or too far into a crosswalk. It soon began to affect his speech, as his words became muddled.

His eventual diagnosis was Progressive Multifocal Leukoencephalopathy (PML), which essentially is a lesion which grows on the brain and increasingly affects the motor skills.

Shane Michael SawickIn just a few months, he went from a vibrant young man, filled with exuberance about life and excitement about our upcoming trip, to a bedridden, shrunken figure, rarely leaving our bed.

While we had hoped to keep Shane at home and comfortable, his body and organs began to fail him, leading to his hospital admittance. In just two short weeks, he lost the ability to speak, as well as the ability to blink to signify “yes” or “no,” and even to squeeze my finger. He was fully alert inside, with all of the knowledge and emotions he’d always had, but he was completely unable to communicate any of it. Each night, after his mother had returned to our apartment and all visitors were gone, I would crawl up alongside him in bed. I would talk to him about my love for him, share the news of the day, and remind him of all the wonderful things we’d experienced together. I talked often of Italy and France… Of the countless kitties of the Pitti Palace. Of the jasmine-like scented grapes we ate in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence. And of our last night ever of sex, in Rome, when it became clear the end would soon come.

Shane and friends - Boothbay Harbor, MaineI hold Shane up today, as I have continually over the twenty years since. In that time since, his dear mother has died and his beloved sister, whom I think he loved most of all, has bravely battled cancer. Shane’s best friend Vivian still lives on, but Shane’s L.A. circle of friends has drifted apart. We lost David to AIDS not long after Shane’s death. Another of the group with AIDS came close to dying, but through the miracles of an experimental treatment is alive today. I know Shane would be disappointed to know that this dear group of guys, with whom years of memories were made, would not survive his passing. In many ways, he was the glue, and his absence led to consequences none of us would have imagined.

Shane Michael SawickAnd so today, on the 20th anniversary of his last full day on earth, I hold up Shane Michael Sawick. Without loving him, I don’t think I would have come to love myself. Without him, I would never have become a writer. And without him, I couldn’t have grown up enough, to have explored myself enough, to be the father and partner that I am today.

Shane died on March 22, at 12:22am. He was surrounded by his family and friends, and we played a tape cassette of his beloved Bette Midler singing his favorite song, “Shiver Me Timbers,” as they pumped morphine into his veins and he took his last breath.

He will not be forgotten.


Read It: Bob the Book

Bob the BookIf ever I become a book, I want to be like Bob. This Lambda Literary award-winning book by David Pratt is everything you want a book to be: smart, funny, thought-provoking, unique, and heartfelt. Admittedly, I had this sitting in my To Be Read pile for far too long, as I didn’t think I’d fully embrace a book about a book, but now that I have, I readily proclaim–I’m in love with Bob…

Now, how do I break up his current relationship with a cute hardback?David Pratt


Thank you, “Being Gay, Becoming Gray”

Much gratitude to the wonderful and inspiring Paul Boynton, author of “Begin with Yes,” who asked that I contribute something to his blog “Being Gay, Becoming Gray.” I appreciate the empowering site and accompanying Facebook messages, and I hope you’ll check out my contribution here. Thanks, Paul!


Free Short Story for Easter: The Stepping Stone

Gifts Not Yet GivenHi everyone! In celebration of Easter, I’m sharing with you a short from my collection Gifts Not Yet Given, which was included on multiple Best Books of 2013 lists. If you like it, the book is available now in paperback and e-book at Indie Bound (Independent Book Stores), Barnes and Noble, Amazon, or at your favorite book sellers. I hope you enjoy it, and tell your friends!

Best wishes,
Kergan

 

The Stepping Stone

LOOKING AT HIS PALE, THIN TORSO lit by the unforgiving fluorescent, Gerald frowned.  His brittle arms hung limply at his sides and his sharply drawn face seemed composed only of triangles.  In all, there was something about his naked physique that reminded him of a plucked turkey.  Turning sideways, his gut jutted forth insistently, and it was clear to Gerald that his mother’s plan was succeeding.

Lolly had been clear from the beginning: she saw no career prospects for her son, given his interests in Star Wars, Star Trek, comic books, Japanese anime, and precious little else.  She could see no path forward for him, other than one she herself orchestrated.  While Gerald generally agreed that he lacked social graces and professional skills, having long been below average in all respects, there was something about his mother’s machinations that reminded him of Jabba the Hut.  And when Gerald really thought about it, the similarities didn’t end there.

His mother had always been corpulent, and her lumbering appearance at school events had filled him with shame ever since he could remember.  But, while embarrassed by her size, it was her demeanor that irked him most.  Lolly lacked faith in him, and in all of humanity, both of which she found continually disappointing.

Still, when she first learned that the mall was hiring, Gerald had been optimistic.  It was a stepping stone, she’d said, surely to lead to bigger and better things.  And, the first season in the role, he allowed himself to believe it.  It would be dealing with the public, challenging and improving his skills, but with a level of remove the costume allowed.  And it would be easy, he figured, to simply sit in a chair and wave.  But being the Easter Bunny turned out to be more difficult and less entertaining than he’d anticipated.

He was not allowed to hop out to his throne in the photo area; it was mandated that he walk, his hand held firmly by any of one of the part-time girls unattractive enough to have been denied employment by the mall’s hundred or so fashionable retail establishments.  Hopping had been deemed an insurance liability as well.  There was also an underlying fear that, mid-jump, he might somehow trip, sending his gigantic head rolling off and scaring the waiting line of children, which apparently had happened before.

In truth, there was never much of a line and it was easy for Gerald to see why.  The feeble Easter Bunny offerings could in no way match that of Santa Claus.  Kids looked forward to seeing Santa, to impart their holiday wishes, ask questions, or simply to get their annual photo taken.  With the Easter Bunny, the children generally didn’t have anything to say.  They’d sit, dutifully, and smile, but Gerald never received anything like “Hey, Easter Bunny, what are you gonna bring me this year?” as all knew the answer was “Eggs.”  Not much mystery or surprise.  At most, Gerald would get an “Aww, you’re so cute!,” to which he’d nod or pat the kid’s shoulder. 

Not that he could have responded any other way.  Unlike Santa, Gerald wasn’t allowed to speak.  Whereas the voice of Santa could be replicated, with his bellowing “ho-ho-ho’s,” no one quite knew what the Easter Bunny sounded like, and management was against the idea of Gerald talking, no matter how many different character voices he auditioned for them.

The biggest difference between the roles was that, with Santa Claus, the essence of the person playing the part still came through, despite the beard, padding, and round glasses.  Much could be communicated by the way the actor moved, spoke, laughed, raised his eyebrows, or smiled, whereas Gerald was saddled with a wire-framed helmet, through which he could see dimly through the darkened eye screens, the only light coming from its nostril holes.  It was easy to get depressed in the suit, which tended to accentuate his ongoing feelings of inadequacy.

After only a few hours on the job, Gerald’s hope that this would become, as Lolly said, a “stepping stone” was pretty much dashed.  He’d already been thrown up on—twice—and watched as a young girl ate her own boogers.  Still, Lolly was hopeful.

“It’s the first day,” she’d said.  “It’ll get better—mark my words.  Pretty soon you’ll own that mall.”

While Gerald knew this would not be the case, there was little else he could do but trudge on.  He made it through that season, and the next, and the next, until he had three seasons of Easter under his belt, which was beginning to feel increasingly tight.  Lolly had begun to fatten him up to better his chances of becoming Santa Claus.  Though still too young for the role, Gerald merely shrugged.  It did no good to argue with her.  Lolly had found him his first and only job thus far, which was much better than his own track record. 

The problem was, there wasn’t much he liked to do.  Add that to his few admirable qualities and even fewer skills, and about the only work for which he qualified was janitorial in nature, which simply would not do for Lolly.  She did, as she liked to say, “have standards.”  And so she continued to support her son, from one spring to the next, plying him with rich, fatty foods, in preparation for phase two of her plan. 

While Gerald didn’t especially want to be fat, he didn’t feel as if he had much choice.  After all, becoming Santa as well would mean that instead of being employed for only three weeks a year, he could add on an additional six.  To keep both jobs, though, the trick would be to become large enough for Santa, but still thin enough to be the Easter Bunny.  It was odd, really, because when Gerald thought about bunnies, they all came with a full, rounded silhouette.  The costume, however, was very trim, as if all rabbits were emaciated like Bugs Bunny.

And so he began his fourth spring season, thirty pounds heavier than his first, and found himself in the bleakly lit break room with its fidgety vending machine when Amy walked in.  She eyed him suspiciously, standing there in his rabbit suit, holding his head with one hand and a Snickers bar in the other.

“Nice,” she pronounced, but there was something about the way she stretched out the word, her voice arching high on the “I,” that made Gerald certain she hadn’t meant it as friendly.  Still, he couldn’t help but notice how smooth her skin looked, or the bewitching green of her eyes, or the wink she gave him as she headed into the women’s locker room.  Smiling to himself, he put his bunny head back on and hopped out to the photo area, management be damned.

It was a week before he next saw her, heading for the food court in her red, blue and yellow Hot Dog on a Stick uniform.  At least we have that in common, he thought.  Ugly costumes.

From talking to Jose, the counter help at Sbarro, he quickly learned her name—Amy, that she was five years younger—a senior in high school, and that she only worked weekends.  Which meant, as Easter was quickly approaching, Gerald had only one more weekend to make an impact—or at least a more positive impression than his first.

 

Gerald knew better than to share anything about Amy with Lolly, as she would poo-poo any prospect of love.  From his earliest years, he could remember her words and sayings hanging over him, slightly dampening his heart.  Yet she always delivered them as if she were being helpful, with the two of them co-conspirators of some sort.

“You know, love, that math isn’t your best subject!  Or science.  Or—.  Hmm…  Well, gee!  Guess you can’t have everything!”

 “It’s you and me, kid, til the day we die,” she’d grin.  “Who else would have us, right?”

“Lord knows you didn’t inherit my smarts, but I’m sure God gave you something!  It’s our job to figure out what.”

“It’s terrible, really, the way your face turned out, but you’ll grow into your looks, some day,” she’d chuckle.  “That’s what prayer is for!”

It was as if, with every remark, she was giving both smile and slap.  It was odd, really, to live with someone, to have been born of them, to have someone so close, and yet feel as if they hated you.  Lolly was never out rightly mean; instead, she coated each bullet with a titter, as if she didn’t mean it.  Still, Gerald felt certain that she did.

Before meeting Amy, he thought this was to be his destiny: Lolly, the occasional job, and his bedroom, where he ate, read, slept, and stayed.  Stepping out from his room was reserved only for bathroom breaks or a quick dart to the kitchen or front door.  He rarely engaged Lolly, though she would go to great lengths to zero in on him.  She was constantly offering food, or a bit of news, or the offer of a backrub.  But as time went on, Gerald, who had once acquiesced to her every request, found himself saying no much more often.

And Lolly noticed.

 

The next Saturday, Gerald arrived at the mall at 8:00 A.M., though Amy didn’t usually get there until 9:30.  He wanted to ensure that there was no possibility of missing her, and so he sat in his car, near the entrance, binoculars at his side. 

Conscious of his previous attire, Gerald had taken great pains in his appearance.  He’d woken, in the middle of the night, to clandestinely iron one of his few clean button-down shirts.  After returning to a fitful sleep, he envisioned several different scenarios in which he’d best connect with Amy, but none felt exactly right.  Finally, at 7:00 A.M., he showered, shaved, put on after-shave, and even did 10 push-ups, which felt a little bit like victory.  He did all of this quietly, in order not to wake his mother.  He had no idea that Lolly had lain rigid, eyes open, staring at the ceiling, listening to every creak and moan the old house made.  He couldn’t fool her, for Lolly was a sly one.

Once she’d noticed the change in his demeanor, she immediately took to root out its cause.  It bothered her to no end that Gerald had changed—or rather—that something out of her control was changing him, leaving her in the cold.  She had a right to know what was happening, she reasoned, and one morning waited, until he’d left for work, to strike.

Peering out the window, she watched as his taillights disappeared, then quickly headed into the kitchen.  Pulling open the door to the laundry room, she rummaged about, reemerging with a pair of rubber cleaning gloves.  Slipping them on, she tiptoed to Gerald’s door, though there was no reason to do so. 

Inside, the air of the room was sour, and the scent of something strong—was it pizza?—filled the air.  Resisting the urge to open the window, Lolly surveyed Gerald’s room.  It was just as she’d expected: clothes, shoes, and silly comic books strewn about the floor, his trashcan overflowing with crumpled papers and soda cans, and a thin layer of dust coating the dresser and TV set.  Again resisting the urge, this time to clean, Lolly skillfully stepped through the mess, careful not to disturb a thing. 

Quietly, she opened each dresser drawer, lifting the clothes and searching with her fingers, like a sieve combing through sand.  Aside from some loose change and three dog-eared Playboy magazines, the dresser had been a bust.

Crossing to the closet, Lolly slowly pulled out the hinged shutters, fearing God-knows-what could suddenly come tumbling forth.  But the closet was relatively bare.  It seemed that most everything previously contained within currently blanketed the carpet, creating a patchwork quilt of clothing.  Rifling through the few shoe boxes on the top shelves, Lolly was disappointed to find nothing but shoes.  She felt through pants and jacket pockets, picked up and examined every t-shirt, sniffing each, hoping to detect a lingering scent, until she picked up a hand-towel which she was fairly certain had been abused.

Her hunt seemed to be in vain until, underneath the bed, Lolly finally struck gold.  She discovered several spiral notebooks, bound together with thick rubber bands.  Gerald had never been a particularly good student, so it wasn’t likely that he’d saved homework. 

Pulling out one from the bottom, she opened it, and was astonished to find herself facing one of the most beautiful pencil drawings she’d ever seen.  She wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, but it looked quite futuristic in nature.  Some kind of unique creature; half-animal, half-human.  But what really took her breath away was how life-like it was.  Staring into its eyes, Lolly almost felt threatened, as if this beast could leap from the page, taking her down in one swoop.

Flipping through the binders, she found more and more images.  Some were just quick sketches, but others were so detailed they could have been hung in a museum.  Certain pages, Lolly averted her eyes, as there were drawings of enlarged genitalia, of both genders, with people and creatures involved in all manner of unspeakable activity.  And yet, mixed between the filth were pages of unfathomable beauty: lush gardens, with flowers, and magnificent structures.  Imperial kings and monsters of every kind.  One sketch, of an old and large woman, staring directly at the viewer, giving them the finger, even looked suspiciously like Lolly.

She pored through each, mystified that these had been crafted by her son.  How could Gerald be the source for both such splendor and depravity?  He’d never shown the slightest proclivity toward art, nor any other form of creativity for that matter.  And, even if these were his creations, why had he kept them hidden?  It would have saved me years of worrying, Lolly admitted to herself.  He actually has a marketable skill, after all.  Just think of the money we could make!

Lolly put such thoughts aside, as tailoring a career plan for Gerald would have to wait.  Knowing now just how much he had kept hidden, Lolly was determined to discover the source of his sudden and unwelcome happiness.  It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to be happy, exactly, but she wanted to be the inspiration for such happiness.  It was disquieting to think that someone or something had found a way to intervene, allowing a sinister cloud to hover above their previously happy existence.

Picking up the final spiral, Lolly immediately soured.  Drawn on the front was an elaborate heart, out of which poured music notes, hot dogs—even a bunny.  She was very confused, for Gerald had never been the sentimental type.  The matter became clear when she saw what was inside.  Page after page of a woman—the same woman.  Or girl.  Lolly wasn’t quite sure.  The image was youthful, but there was something stylized about the way she’d been drawn that made her feel a little too coquettish; indeed, she looked more than a bit slutty.  While some poses were simple and casual, in others she was dressed in what looked like leather, or with devil ears, or bearing a whip.  In one, she was doing something awful with a corndog.

Lolly put down the books with a sigh.  She’d known that this day would come, eventually, but that didn’t mean she liked it.  After all, most girls were irritating and Lolly knew Gerald wasn’t bright or interesting enough to keep their focus for long.  But this one—Gerald was clearly transfixed and it would have to be dealt with.

Restacking the notebooks in the order in which they’d been found, Lolly bound them.  Surveying the room, which looked just as it had when she’d entered, Lolly felt confident her intrusion would not be noticed and quickly scurried out to begin crafting a plan of her own.

As he sat in his car, waiting for Amy, Gerald knew none of this.  He was so focused on the employee entrance, not wanting to miss his beloved, that he never saw his mother’s battered Oldsmobile enter the lot and park on the periphery, some distance away.

 

It was nearing 9:30 A.M., when both he and Amy were expected, but she still hadn’t shown.  Gerald felt a growing sense that something was wrong, that she wasn’t coming.  And so it was with relief that he suddenly spotted her, pulling her silver Hyundai into a shaded spot and installing her car sunblock above the dash.  He noticed her checking her makeup, and as she pulled out lipstick, carefully applying it to her puckered mouth, Gerald couldn’t help but wish that the tube were him.  As she stepped from her car, Gerald did the same.  He was hoping to make their meeting look casual, sauntering toward the entrance as nonchalantly as he could.  As they got closer, someone behind called out “McAllister!” and Gerald felt a firm hand clamp down upon his shoulder.

 “Saw you coming in—cutting it a bit late, are we?” Tony grinned as Gerald turned toward him. While irritated at having his plan interrupted, he was also nervous to see his boss as the cause.  They rarely spoke and when they did it was usually because Gerald had done something wrong.

“Aww—I still have plenty of time,” Gerald whined.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amy enter the break room and tried to steer Tony toward it.  “The costume doesn’t take that long.”

“I’m just joshin’ you, McAllister,” snorted Tony.  “Relax!”

“Yeah,” attempted Gerald, “I knew that.”  He stared toward the break room, knowing it held both Amy and the entrances to the locker rooms.  In one, Amy would be changing, and he should be in the other.  He glanced at the clock behind Tony, wishing he’d get to the point.

Seeing his eyes dart to the time, Tony turned to him.  “Forget about the kids, McAllister.  Who cares if the Easter Bunny is a little late?  It gives their folks more time to shop!” he laughed, though he wasn’t remotely funny.

Gerald smiled, because he knew he should, and waited.

“What I’m thinking, kid, what I wanted to talk to you about, is Christmas.”  Gerald stood, nodding, as he counted the minutes ticking by.  Amy needed to be at the food court soon, leaving him little time to act.  “I know you wanna be Santa,” Tony continued.  “You’ve made that clear from day one.  And I gotta admit, I thought it would be years before you’d be ready.  But you’ve impressed me, truly.  The skills you’ve brought to the Easter Bunny…”  Gerald had no idea what Tony was talking about.  Skill?  He sat there, dead as a doornail, and sometimes waved.  “And all of those funny voices you’ve done for us—Wow.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ferraro,” Gerald said, nonetheless.  “I’m glad you’re pleased.”

“And skinny!  Boy, when you first walked through the door, I thought, no way!  Unh huh—No Santa for McAllister.  But today…” With a smile, Tony gestured, as if Gerald’s belly had won an award.  “Just look at you!”

Gerald tried to smile.  This was what he’d wanted, after all.  What he’d worked for.  And here it was, being offered to him on a silver platter.  Lolly would be so pleased.  Then it hit him.  None of this had been what he wanted.  This dream had been Lolly’s, right from the start.  Even as he shook Tony’s hand and headed toward the break room, he felt his stomach turn.  While Gerald had no grand vision for himself, nor any idea of what he wanted to be doing, fattening himself up just to be Santa Claus was not it. 

Amy stepped from the women’s locker room, bobby-pinning her hat, and almost collided with him.

“Sorry!” she squeaked.  “My bad!” 

Gerald stopped her.  “Wait!”

She looked at him square on, expectantly.  While Gerald may not have known what he wanted to do with his life, it was clear, as he looked at her, that he wanted Amy.

“I’m Gerald,” he managed.

“Yeah, I know.” she said, smiling.  “The Easter Bunny, right?” Amy laughed, connecting the dots. 

“Yes,” Gerald said, ducking his head.  He wasn’t certain if her laugh was playful or mocking, but either way, he liked the sound of it.

“Wow—that means you only have one more week’s worth of work, huh?”

“Yep,” he nodded.  “And you only work weekends?”

“If it were up to me, I’d work every day.  I love it,” she smiled.  “But my parents—well, they’re strict about a work/life balance and homework and shit.”  Even the way she said “shit” Gerald found appealing.

“Could—um?” Gerald stuttered, trying to find the words to ask her out.

Amy glanced at the clock and Gerald knew his moment was passing.  “Would you like to go out with me?” he asked.

She looked at him, surprised, and was about to respond when a call rang out.

“Yoo-hoo, hon!”  Gerald spun about, to see Lolly standing behind, bagged lunch held high.  “You forgot something!”

Incensed, Gerald stepped toward Lolly, only to see Amy shrug and grin, darting off toward her job with a wave.  Lolly had ruined his moment.

“What are you doing here, Mom?” he mumbled crossly, attempting to remain calm.

“I just thought you’d be hungry,” she smiled sweetly, swinging the bag in front of him. 

“You know I don’t bring my lunch!” He could feel heat rising from his skin, his face flushing in anger.

“That was before your big promotion,” Lolly laughed, gaily.  “Only a few more months before your debut!”

“How—?”  Gerald’s confusion quickly cleared as he put the pieces together.  Lolly had engineered his first job and would engineer his last.

Abruptly turning on his heels, Gerald walked away, slamming the men’s door behind him.

For a moment, Gerald waited, half expecting his mother to follow.  Catching his breath, he could not believe what a dunce he’d been.  All these years, he’d followed his mother’s orders, her every wish, simply to make her happy.  What about his own happiness?  Had he ever had it?  Or had Lolly snuffed it out, like a candle flame between two fingers?

Gathering himself, he quickly dressed, determined to be the best damn Bunny imaginable.  Lolly may have gotten him the job, and even orchestrated the promotion, but Gerald alone could create success or failure.  He had that in his power, and he knew he had something to prove: to Lolly, to Amy, and, most of all, to himself.

 

Later that night, Gerald opened the front door as quietly as he could.  Peering into the living room, he saw that all lights were on, which was odd, but the house felt quiet. Seeing lights on in the kitchen as well, Gerald silently crossed toward it.  Stepping in, he found Lolly, dressed nicely, sitting at a set table.  She’d used the nice silver and even opened a bottle of wine, though she never drank.  She hadn’t heard him come in, but looked up, noticing him, and smiled.

“There you are!” she tottered, as if they hadn’t experienced anything out of the norm.

Gerald stood, staring at her.  This is the woman who has made my life miserable, he thought.  My mother.  My only living relative.  And all she wants is for me to be unhappy.

Something on his face must have registered with Lolly, as she immediately changed tact.

“I was only trying to help, dear,” she admitted.  “You would’ve never gotten that job without a little nudging.  I was hoping we could celebrate!”

He stood, stalk-still, and his silence—his strength—scared her.

“Was I wrong to do that?” Lolly asked, confused that her efforts had not been inspiring.  He should be grateful, she figured.

Gerald simply turned, leaving his mother alone at her table, and went into his room, closing the door firmly behind.

Lolly sat, her blood beginning to boil.  She’d been directly and resolutely shut out by her child, for whom she’d done everything.  Who was this harlot who had him so smitten?  How could she have so quickly enraptured him, leading him to rebuke his own mother?  She must be dealt with—that much seemed clear.  The question was, how?

 

Gerald was up half the night, determining how best to proceed, and had come up with a plan.  It was simple, clean, and seemed foolproof.  He packed up some clothes, toiletries, and the money he’d hoarded from his annual job, which turned out to be quite a lot, as Lolly had always paid for everything.  But he knew he couldn’t count on that anymore, and wouldn’t have wanted to anyway.

Creeping outside at 3:00 A.M., he put the things into his trunk, closing it as quietly as he could.  Looking up toward the house, he saw a curtain shift, ever so slightly, and knew he was being watched.

More determined than ever, he walked back inside, calmly turned off his light, and went to bed.

 

The next morning, Gerald awoke with a start to realize he’d overslept.  After a speed shower, he was off, leaving Lolly and house receding in his rearview mirror.  Just a few minutes later, however, Lolly herself emerged from the house, and the look on her face was one that would’ve scared a cat.  Checking her rather large bag, which matched her outfit perfectly, she patted something within with what looked almost like affection.

Pulling into the mall lot, Gerald saw that Amy’s car was already parked, sunblock up as usual, and knew he wouldn’t have much time before her shift began.  Running inside, he took great care with the wrapped package tucked under arm, as if it were fragile as glass.  But Amy was already at work, leaving Gerald’s only option to intersect her on break.  He placed the package carefully in his locker, dressed, and began his trek out to the photo area.  He didn’t see Lolly, sitting some distance away, obscured by a rather large sunhat and dark glasses.  But she saw him.

 

The line that day seemed endless; partly due to the encroaching holiday and partly as Gerald’s thoughts never really left Amy.  While in his mind he saw them together forever, what he really wanted, more than anything, was a date.  A simple meal or coffee at which they could talk, shedding ridiculous costumes, work, and problems far behind.  After all, he wasn’t even sure if they were, in fact, like-minded.  For example, what kind of music did she listen to?  While he had a hard time envisioning her singing along to pop, it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility either.  She could be into rock, or emo, or even blues, for all he knew.  There was an element of retro about her, which led him to believe her musical tastes would somehow surprise, but until they talked, face-to-face, he couldn’t know for sure.

Gerald had never experienced the slightest discomfort wearing the bunny suit, but today he did.  It was itching and constricting, and he couldn’t wait to get out of it.  He realized that was the same feeling that he’d felt that morning, just before leaving Lolly’s.  He’d been trapped, all these years, lulled into obedience, but the simple idea that something more was possible gave him hope, fueling his desire to smash the chains and, once and for all, set himself free.

At break time, Gerald quickly shed his skin, neglecting his meal, and ran to the food court, package carefully tucked under arm.  It was peak time for lunch, but Gerald knew this was his only chance.  It was now or never. 

Lolly was there as well, eyeing him over a magazine, from which her dark round sunglasses protruded, accentuating her mammalian features.  She watched as he approached Hot Dog on a Stick and noted how nervous he was.  Gerald eyed the long line, then tried to catch Amy’s eye, but she and her co-worker were oblivious.  Lolly saw him circle about the stand, trying to find a way to make contact, before glancing to the clock hanging inside.  He had little time to make his move and Lolly noted confidently that he would likely choke, simple as that, relieving her of the need to intervene.

Knowing his time was limited, Gerald was undeterred, and shoved his way past the line of people.

“Hey!” someone shouted.  “We’ve been waiting!”

Gerald ignored the man, instead calling out, “Amy!”  Startled, she turned, almost spilling the lemonade she’d been filling. 

“What are you doing here?” she hissed.  “I could get fired!”

He shook his head, as if he knew better.  “I just need a minute.  Please!”

Amy exchanged glances and shrugs with the other counter girl, then motioned.  “Go down the hall.  First door on your left.”  He virtually ran to it, waiting for her to unlock it from within.  The minute she opened it, he stepped in, shutting it behind.

They stood for a moment, neither quite sure where this was going.  The kitchen area was warm, and the din of the crowd just on the other side could still be heard, making their already urgent moment even more urgent.

“Yes…?” she led.  “What was so important?”

“I—You’re only here today.  Then you’re not back until next weekend, and I’ll be gone,” he noted insistently.

“Okay.  So?”

He sighed.  She wasn’t making this easy.  But then he realized his conversations with her had always been, until now, in his head.  She wasn’t privy to his thoughts and how most revolved around her.  She didn’t know that he had his car packed up—ready to go where, he wasn’t quite clear.  But he knew he had to tell her.

“I—I think I’m—” he stuttered.

“I have to get back to work,” she urged.

Gerald couldn’t think of the right words to say.  It seemed a lifetime with Lolly had drained his every ounce of courage.  Instead of talking, he thrust the package he’d been holding awkwardly into her hands.

“A present?” she managed.  “Whatever for?”

“Just open it,” Gerald managed, conscious that time was ticking quickly past.

Amy unwrapped it, revealing a beautiful portfolio.  “But—”

He motioned for her to continue.  Unlatching the clasp, she began looking through the pages, at the pictures of her, each more unique than the last.

“I—Is this me?” Amy was in awe.  No one had ever done anything like it.  There were drawings of her on horseback, as a warrior, fairy, dancer, and more, all in fantastically ornate settings.  She motioned to one.  “Is that me as Princess Naboo?”

Gerald was amazed that she knew his favorite Star Wars character.  “Yes,” he smiled.  “Do—do you like it?”

She couldn’t even respond.  It seemed overwhelming.  Here he’d been, in the same mall, watching her, and yet she had barely noticed him.  It was a lovely gesture and there was something about his timidity and artistry that made her want to know him better.  She looked up into his eyes and what she saw there startled her: if you could envision him without the extra weight, he was actually quite handsome.

Reaching up, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.  “Can we meet for dinner tomorrow?  My treat!”

Gerald could barely believe his good fortune.  “I—uh—Sure!” he smiled.

She turned, stashing the portfolio on the supply rack.  “Sorry to art and run, but I need to get back!”

He nodded, realizing that he was already late for his post.  Turning, he left, back out the hallway to the food court.  Both he and Amy emerged, only to face Lolly, hat and glasses off.  She stood next to the waiting line of customers, and spoke, addressing both them and the line.

“Here they are!” she bellowed.  “My son—and his harlot…”

No one knew just quite to make of her, but Gerald felt himself sinking within.  He had no idea what she was up to, but he knew Amy would likely not be interested in someone with a mother such as his.  He tried to stop her.

“Mother…” he hissed.

Lolly ignored him, instead approaching the counter and leaning in toward Amy, who was trying her best to ignore her and focus on her waiting customer.

“Sweet talk you, did he?” Lolly grinned.  “Show you his drawings?”  Though talking amiably and quietly, there was nothing remotely charming about Lolly.  “Pretty, aren’t they?  You probably felt all special, knowing of his little crush on you.”

Amy turned to her customer.  “Just the lemonade?”  Instead of answering, the customer took a good look at Lolly and backed quickly away.  Amy turned, to see what had repelled her customer, only to find herself staring at a large drawing of herself, doing intimate things with a corndog.

“Oh my God—”

Lolly laughed, turning about so that everyone around her could see the picture, which she’d had enlarged.  She nodded toward Gerald, “He seems so innocent, doesn’t he?  All doe-eyed and sad.  Pathetic really.  Still, I could see how you might feel sorry for him.  Bet you’d even date him, huh?  Except for this.”

She continued to display the image and was gathering quite a crowd.  Amy whispered to her co-worker, “Get security.” 

Gerald stood, somewhat helpless.  His every hope, his window of freedom, seemed to be closing.  And it was all his doing.  He’d allowed his desire for Amy to morph into a weapon, designed solely for him.

“You’re crazy, Mother.”  The words came so quietly, they were almost inaudible.  But Lolly heard them.  She turned, quite quickly.

“Come with me.  We’re going home.”

“No, we’re not,” he replied, as calmly as he could.  “I’m not going with you.  I am not coming home.  Ever again.”

The words were like shrapnel and the cry Lolly uttered as she sunk to her knees filled the food court, echoing out in ripples.  Falling down, sobs wracked her large frame, but no one made a move to help her.

Gerald looked to his mother, then to Amy.  Amy’s eyes were on his, locked, and he nodded to her.  “How about we make that date right now instead?”

Nodding, Amy backed into the kitchen area, reemerging from the hallway with the portfolio in hand.  Lolly had repulsed her, but there was something about the way Gerald responded that made Amy think there might be more to him than she’d imagined.  He’d been chivalrous and kind, and that strength needed to be rewarded.  Besides, even if Lolly had meant to scare her with that erotic drawing, it only served to make Gerald infinitely more intriguing. 

Lolly looked up, her face streaked with tears and makeup, just as Amy reached out, taking Gerald’s hand.  They walked away, never looking back.  The job she’d envisioned as a stepping stone had indeed been just that, but instead of bringing her and Gerald even closer, it had proven a toe-hold to a path that would only take him further and further away. 

Pulling herself up from the ground, she glanced around at all of the people staring.  She had no idea what to do or where to go. 

With a resigned sigh, she turned back to the abandoned counter girl.  “Gimme a corndog.”  And she was given one, immediately.  On the house.

Gifts Not Yet Given is available now in paperback and e-book at Indie Bound (Independent Book Stores), Barnes and Noble, Amazon, or at your favorite book sellers.


Thanks to Author Carey Parrish for His Lovely Review of GIFTS NOT YET GIVEN!

Gifts Cover Low Res (427x640)I so appreciate the lovely review of Gifts Not Yet Given at Sole Focus. Carey Parrish is a talented author (Marengo and Big Business) whose books I’ve enjoyed and I was delighted to read his review of my new book. In part, his review reads:

Very few writers can touch a reader’s heart but Kergan Edwards-Stout knows how to do just that. Gifts Not Yet Given easily jumped onto my top ten books read in the past year and it will remain a favored selection in my library. With so many writers competing in the literary world today, it takes a true author to rise above the pack, and Mr. Edwards-Stout is one of those few gifted storytellers.

His full review can be found here.  Thank you, Carey!


GIFTS NOT YET GIVEN is on ANOTHER “Best Books of 2013” list!

Gifts Not Yet GivenMany thanks to the fun blog of Canadian Brahm Kornbluth for including Gifts Not Yet Given in his Alfred Lives Here top 5 book list for 2013. I was honored he included my debut, Songs for the New Depression, on his list last year, and flattered to find Gifts there this year! He says of Gifts:

The second book from an author who was on the list last year, Gifts Not Yet Given is a collection of short stories, a format which unusually doesn’t hook me, but these did. Three stories stayed with me: “The Stepping Stone” about a geeky son and his mother from hell, “Holes” about a life devastated by disease, and the title story about a family still struggling with a choice long in their past. These stories are original and intriguing, and the characters are strong and flawed, loving and broken.


GIFTS NOT YET GIVEN Lands on a “Best Books of the Year” List!

Gifts Not Yet GivenHow could my day possibly get any better??? Well, by finding out that my new book, Gifts Not Yet Given, made a “Best LGBTQ Books of the Year” list! WOO HOO!

“Edwards-Stout writes beautifully, and the stories are charming and uplifting.”

Thank you, Queer Books with Julie!


The Bookworm Sez: “The Perfect Book to Give This Holiday Season”

Gifts Not Yet GivenThanks so much to Terri Schlichenmeyer who includes Gifts Not Yet Given in her nationally syndicated column, The Bookworm Sez, on her list of “The Perfect Books to Give Everyone This Holiday Season.”  She notes:

For the person on your list who loves the holidays — all holidays — wrap up “Gifts Not Yet Given and Other Tales of the Holidays” by Kergan Edwards-Stout. It’s a collection of short stories about the holidays we hold dear and the ways we keep them.

I also got a very sweet note today from a reader who just finished reading Gifts Not Yet Given and wanted an autographed copy to send her mother:

I just finished your book… And I loved it.  Imaginative stories that touched and uplifted the heart… Well-crafted  and colorful characters with rich inner lives.  What a wonderful writer you are!

I’m happy to send autographed copies of the book to those interested. Heck, if you want to send to someone as a gift, I’m happy to gift-wrap it and include a note from you as well! Just send me an email and we can coordinate payment and shipping.  Happy holidays!


Rave Review of “Gifts Not Yet Given” from Edge on the Net

Edge on the NetI’m so thankful for the amazing review that Gifts Not Yet Given received from Edge on the Net, the world’s largest network for gay news and entertainment, by reviewer Christopher Verleger.

I am so appreciative to share the review with you!

“Author Kergan Edwards-Stout follows up his engrossing debut novel, “Songs for the New Depression,” which examines thirty years in the life of an AIDS-stricken California man, with the equally profound, “Gifts Not Yet Given,” a short story collection of compelling characters and circumstances ranging from the mundane to the maladjusted.

The events depicted in all fourteen stories occur on or around a specific day of celebration, including family gathering holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas, such festive occasions as Halloween and Mardi Gras, Mother’s and Father’s Day, as well as the obligatory wedding and office party. With a holiday or special occasion as the backdrop for each entry, emotions run especially high throughout and the behavior of the represented individuals is contrary to the everyday.

One of the strongest and more uplifting stories, “Hearts,” describes the unbreakable friendship between Karyn, an insecure teen, and her gay best friend, Kevin, who accompany each other to a high school Valentine’s Day dance. The equally heartwarming “The Fourth Christmas” introduces Andrew and David, a couple celebrating their fourth anniversary despite the opposition of Andrew’s conservative mother, Natalie.

Conservatism and religion appear prominently in several stories, including “The Old Rugged Cross,” a heartbreaking, albeit somewhat affirming, tale of a mother, Cassandra, who begins to question her faith and purpose in life after her firefighter husband and son perish in the line of duty. Evelyn, the stubborn, bible-thumping protagonist in the grim “Mother’s Day,” believes having three estranged sons is just another example of God’s will. Thom, Evelyn’s youngest son, makes a surprising, conciliatory appearance in the sequel, “Father’s Day.”

My personal favorite, “Glenbourne, IL” tells the moving story of a cancer survivor revisiting his past during a Thanksgiving visit to his childhood home.

Although select stories are arguably too brief, all never fail to pack an emotional punch, and the collection, as a whole, is chock full of joyous albeit occasionally awkward instances and imagery (divorce, a sacred family recipe, an Easter bunny outfit) that are relatable, or at least familiar to everyone. With the holiday season approaching, “Gifts Not Yet Given” reminds readers, however flawed, to accept, appreciate and when warranted, forgive our families and friends.”

Thank you, Edge on the Net!!!

 


On Twitter? Join a live TweetChat with me on Thurs. November 7th at 5PM EST

writers kaboodleThis Thursday November 7th I’ll be doing a live TweetChat with @SezoniWhitfield at 5PM EST.  To follow or jump in with a question, follow hashtag WritersKaboodle.  This is your chance to ask me anything! 🙂  And hopefully I’ll be able to keep up with my typing and keep my answers SHORT! 🙂


Thanks to the Great Midwest Book Festival!

Great Midwest Book FestivalI so appreciate Gifts Not Yet Given as being included in the honorable mentions in the fiction category of the Great Midwest Book Festival! Gifts is a collection of 14 tales, themed to holidays as varied as the Fourth of July and Christmas, which I hope you all enjoy. It’s the perfect book for this holiday season — to gift or read!


Goodreads Giveaway: “Gifts Not Yet Given”

Goodreads Giveaways is once again offering TEN signed copies of my book, Gifts Not Yet Given, now through November 15th.  Hurry and enter to win!

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Gifts Not Yet Given by Kergan Edwards-Stout

Gifts Not Yet Given

by Kergan Edwards-Stout

Giveaway ends November 15, 2013.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter to win

 


Win a copy of “Gifts Not Yet Given” at Deep Dish!

deepdish2013dThanks to Deep Dish for offering up three signed copies of my new book, Gifts Not Yet Given, as a giveaway, now through Monday October 28th! It’s a fun site with a focus on pop culture and, of course, cute men. How can you lose? 🙂

Check it out and enter today to win here!


My New Book is Available NOW!

For anyone interested in my new book, Gifts Not Yet Given, I’m happy to announce that it is available now in paperback and e-book. Click the link for the reviews and quotes thus far–I’m very thrilled!

Gifts Not Yet GivenIf you’re looking for a holiday read or gift, I hope you consider this!  It’s a mix of short stories, with a variety of characters–young/old, gay/straight, people of varying ethnicities and faiths–all united by their shared humanity.  Each of the characters is facing a choice of how to best move forward in life, and celebrates our commonalities.  I like to think of it as a gift that can expand hearts and open minds! 🙂

Order now at Indie Bound (Independent Book Stores), Barnes and Noble, Amazon, or at your favorite book sellers!

For those in the Orange County, CA, area, join us at the book launch party at Eikon Home & Gift on Friday November 15th, 6-8PM.  Facebook event details are here.  Stop by and say “hi,” share a glass of wine, or buy a book and peruse the wonderful items in the shop.  I look forward to seeing you!


Thank You, Garrett Miller, for the Great Radio Interview!

Garrett Miller

I so enjoyed appearing tonight on  Garrett Miller‘s Rated G Radio.  We talked about everything from sex to Jack Black, parenting, condoms, Steven Fales, writing, my experience as chauffeur to Jennifer Beals, to my books (Songs for the New Depression and Gifts Not Yet Given) and more.  Lots of fun, and I hope you’ll give it a listen here!

Garrett’s radio show occurs Monday through Friday, 7PM Pacific/10PM Eastern and I think you’ll enjoy it.  He can be found on Facebook and Twitter as well as his website.  Thanks, Garrett!


Thanks to Top 2 Bottom Reviews for the Great Interview!

Ken HarrisonI really enjoyed reconnecting with publisher Ken Harrison, of Seventh Window Publications, whom I met at the 2012 Rainbow Book Fair in NYC. It was so nice of him to reach out to me about my new book, Gifts Not Yet Given, even though he didn’t release it himself!

Instead, we chatted about the book on Top 2 Bottom Reviews, and I hope you’ll visit their site for the full interview. Here is a brief snippet of our exchange:

“Edwards-Stout:  I wanted a book which conservative straight folks could read, and maybe have their eyes opened, while the LGBT community might read it and think, “At last, we’re included.”

Gifts Not Yet GivenHarrison:  What do you mean?

Edwards-Stout:  Well, the first story, The Nutcracker, is about a straight woman who has been career-obsessed her whole life, suddenly at a holiday office party finding herself wondering why.  And the next story, Festive Beaver, is about a young gay boy orchestrating his elementary school’s Mardi Gras celebration.  There’s something in it for everyone.”
Check out the rest at Top 2 Bottom Reviews!  Thanks, Ken!


Monday 10/14: On Rated G Radio with Garrett Miller

Garrett MillerI’m looking forward to this Monday October 14th at 7PM PDT/10PM EDT when I’ll be live on Garrett Miller‘s Rated G Radio.  Garrett is not only a radio host but an entertainer as well, and–as you can see from his photo–very easy on the eyes.  It’s a good thing we’ll be chatting via phone, as it would be hard to focus with him face-to-face! #dreamy

To listen to the show, go to Garrett’s website and click the “Listen Here” icon Monday at 7PM Pacific/10PM Eastern.  His show runs Monday through Fridays at the same times and is always a lot of fun.  Check it out on Monday!  He can be found on Facebook and Twitter as well.  Thanks, Garrett!


To Celebrate the Release of Gifts Not Yet Given

…GoodReads is offering a giveaway of my first book, Songs for the New Depression, which recently garnered a starred review from Library Journal.  They’ve got five signed copies, so enter to win today!

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Songs for the New Depression by Kergan Edwards-Stout

Songs for the New Depression

by Kergan Edwards-Stout

Giveaway ends October 31, 2013.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter to win

 


Are you on LibraryThing? Enter to Win!

imagesAre you on Library Thing’s Early Reviewer list? My new book Gifts Not Yet Given is on October’s list! They’re giving away 25 author-signed copies of the book, so hurry and enter!

And even if you don’t win, if you love books, it’s a great program. Sign up for it, and you enter the contests for books you want.  If you win, you simply put your review of the book (good or bad) up online for all to see!  It’s a great free way to read, and for authors it is a great way to get the word out about our books!


Provincetown Magazine: Excerpt from “Gifts Not Yet Given”

For those in P-town this week, pick up the October 10, 2013, issue of Provincetown Magazine, which features an excerpt from one of the stories in Gifts Not Yet Given, “The Cape.” The tale takes place on Christmas in Provincetown, as a Boston native flees his city for solace in his seaside bungalow. It is one of my favorite stories in the book, and I’m appreciative to them for sharing it with their readers!

Provincetown Magazine Cover Cape Gifts Photo


Thanks, Gregory G. Allen, for interviewing me for Huffington Post!

Gregory G. AllenIt was great catching up with pal, author Gregory G. Allen, who interviewed me on my new book at The Huffington Post!  Greg is one of those rare multi-hyphenates–he writes, he acts, he directs–and does them all well.  As he is in the process of adapting Missing, by Drake Braxton, as a screenplay for a feature film, I am grateful he was able to take the time to chat.  Thanks, HuffPo, for sharing it!

Here are a few of his questions, but head over to Huffington Post for the full exchange!

Allen: What’s your favorite story in the book?

Edwards-Stout: It’s hard to choose, but I feel very connected to the title story, “Gifts Not Yet Given,” which is the last story in the book.

Allen: Why is that your favorite?

Edwards-Stout: I think it’s because, as a writer, I’m still surprised that those pages were written by me.

Allen: How so?

Edwards-Stout: Well, in this case, the title came to me before the story did. I was looking at the stories I’d written thus far, contemplating names for the collection, and this title just popped into my head. I knew that I needed a complementary story for it, and once I started writing, the story materialized very quickly. It’s about a woman struggling to deal with issues around her daughter, and I find it particularly touching. I still can’t believe it came out of me!

Photo credit of Gregory G. Allen: Tom Schopper


Robert Michael Morris on “Gifts Not Yet Given”

The ComebackRuss and I were first introduced to Robert Michael Morris, like most of America, through the hysterical (and too-short-lived) series, The Comeback.  On it, he played Mickey, Lisa Kudrow’s hairstylist, and he delivered lines and wonderful reactions like nobody’s business!

What most people don’t realize is that, in addition to being a sought-after actor, he is also an accomplished author and playwright.

He read my new book, Gifts Not Yet Given, and gave me a lovely quote:

“Kergan Edwards-Stout’s new book, a collection of thematic short stories, is like a box of chocolates; you never know what you are going to get. And that is delicious. The short story form is a delicate blend of trenchant dialogue, brisk character sketches and local color, and here they are all totally satisfying. What I love about short stories is that I always want a bit more, a tidier resolution, and I am a sucker for a happy ending. Mr. Edwards-Stout has mastered this form, titillating, plucking the heart strings and most often causing a smile of recognition. Some stories already portend a lengthier treatment, a novella perhaps. He touches our common humanity and amazes with his insight. The little collection is a Gift Already Given: a gift of delight and sweet humanity.” – Robert Michael Morris, actor – The Comeback, Running Wilde, and author – An American Scrapbook