This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Eddie will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour. Also, download a free copy of Eddie's 2nd release: Gangster Turned Guru Presents: A Day In The Life with Coffee and Paradise.
My world of dreams may seem like a nightmare to most, since my writing space is one of the last places you would want to find yourself. For over a decade I've resided behind the walls of one of the most notorious, violent federal prisons in America, United States Penitentiary Canaan.
Although it's considered to be hell on earth by many, I've come to fine my true self, discovering the key to peace and happiness within. Designated in unit E-2, I've occupied cell #118 since my arrival. This 6' by 10' enclosure is unofficially designated as the spiritual sanctuary of the Gangster Turned Guru.
Stepping in, on the right is a white porcelain sink, with a matching toilet bowl like the type you see at public bathrooms at malls, movie theaters, or car rest stop areas, with the chrome pipe mechanism raising up off the back, attached with a little handle used to flush. There's a dull stainless steel mirror imbedded with riveted screws on the wall above the sink.
Underneath, is a gray plastic garbage can, filled with a bag of ice, keeping cold two cartons of milk like the ones they gave me in elementary school and my chopped up mixed vegetables that I'll cook for dinner later tonight.
Against the right side wall is a steel bunk bed, with a three step ladder welded on the side at the head of the bed. A gray painted steel desk with a pull out round seat is attached to the back wall with the window. The remainder of the back wall is taken up with double stacked lockers, where I keep my legal papers, photo albums, clothes, hygiene products, eight bags of coffee and two months of commissary food, preserved to comfortably last through the next up and coming lock down.
The left side wall has two sets of four hooks embedded into the eggshell painted concrete wall. There are also two secured picture boards, blanketed with photos of my children, family members and friends. The hooks hold my jacket, a white plastic clothes hanger with my towel and wash cloth, next to a brown net bag that's used for dirty laundry.
I have two gray plastic chairs with the number 118 drilled into the back rest. I place one chair in front of the middle of my bottom bunk, which I use for my desk. The tan cotton blanket has ink marks from my blue ball point pen, evidence of the past few days of writing. I have an 80 sheet wireless notebook that cost $1.80 at the commissary store.
Yes, in this day and age of computer technology, I still literally write every word first, like in the old school days. When the time comes to type it out on the computer, there's no time to spare. I have to know exactly what it's going to be, since it cost me five cents a minute to use the federal bureau computer system.
Black coffee is my fuel for creative inspiration, while ideas also come knocking at my door asking for advice and guidance in dealing with a variety of topics. My designated writing time from 11:30-3:00 is respected, unless there's an emergency situation, where my Guru mind of reasoning is needed to overt a war.
My writing hours are sacred because while I'm writing, I'm free. This is also when I'm turning my dreams into my reality, expressing my creative thoughts to be shared with the world.
When I look out my one window, I see beyond the chain linked bob wire fences and the guard on post in the watch tower holding his AR-15. I'm envisioning my future as a New York Times bestselling author, doing my little two step dance on the Ellen show, discussing being the first father to ever publish a book about having a homosexual son on Oprah's pod cast, and contemplating with my sister Mimi over which company would be best suited to sell the movie rights of "Voice for the Silent Fathers."
I can get lost gazing at the cloudy blue sky from the window of my penitentiary cell, inspired by the fact that I'm in the midst of living my dream in the way I've just shared my thoughts with you.
He shares witnessing the desperation in the eyes of fathers, from all walks of life, who have pulled him aside, away from listening ears wanting to know the answers to these frequently asked questions, agonizing the possibilities that their son might be gay.
Enjoy an excerpt:
Was there anything I could do to stop my son’s homosexuality? When did I know my son was gay? What made him that way? I've witnessed the desperation in the eyes of fathers, from all walks of life, who have pulled me aside, away from listening ears, wanting to know the answers to their questions, analyzing the possibilities of why their son might be gay, some weren’t even sure that their sons were gay.
Mothers seem to be more liberal about their son’s decisions to choose what makes them happy in life, and most importantly, "who" they share their lives with. However, for fathers, nine times out of ten, the topic is taboo. Especially the fathers who I've met in Federal prison or on the opposite end of the spectrum working with celebrities in the entertainment business.
I can tell you this though, I never thought I would write a book and never a book on a topic like this, but life is funny that way. I found myself raising a son at 18 years old; I was still a kid myself, with a baby boy headed down that taboo highway. I was confused, frustrated, and angry at the world. "Why me?" I often thought in those early days... “Why has life thrown me this crazy curve ball?”…
About the Author:
The book is free on Smashwords. You can also buy the book at Amazon.
These delicate father son issues, so implicitly captured in Eddie's writings, are relevant to a broad spectrum of societal issues beyond the "No son of mine" father of a gay man experience. In fact, the book gets to the real substance of human conflict which is our inability to accept and appreciate difference. The key word here is appreciation. The book offers an opportunity to consider acceptance in a way that extends grace, honor, support and recognition. When we are ungrateful, we are critical, blaming, and we use forms of rejection. Eddie’s experience of coming to the acceptance of his son provides hope for healing; a more practical response to conflict that allows dignity, respect and honor which overcomes criticism, blame, bigotry, and ultimately rejection. ~G. Holmes~
a Rafflecopter giveaway