Scott Hildreth's Blog, page 33

Broken People

Broken People

So, I received my first review of the book on Goodreads today. 5 stars. Currently, on Amazon, (20) 5 stars, one 4 star. Strangely enough, the one 4 star is prorbably one of my best reviews, based on content.

This book is so much more than a suicide book, that’s merely just a portion of what ground this book covers. I actually wrote it with the intent of it being a self-help book.

A Texas reader emailed me today after completion, and said it was so powerful, she was reading it again…..as soon as she completed it.

Now that’s a good book. $3.99, see what the hype is about. Try it now, before the price goes up…..

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DNMCKRI/ref=rdr_kindle_ext_tmb

http://www.amazon.com/Broken-People-ebook/dp/B00DNMCKRI

This book isn’t merely a suicide book. It is actually, when the book is finished, a book that will make you feel good.

Really good.

The main protagonist, Fat Kid, is a very intriguing self-proclaimed therapist who devotes his life to help people that have difficulties helping themselves, people he considers to be ‘broken’. Intentionally becoming obese in an effort to shield himself from the approach of outsiders wanting to better understand him, The Fat Kid hides behind his thick outer self. With an overbearing obnoxious attitude, he allows few people to enter his otherwise private life (he won’t even reveal his name). Most of the people that he encounters come from his internet blog, and pose no real threat to him or to his odd lifestyle.

When he encounters a bulimic teenage girl through his internet blog who threatens to commit suicide, he begins to reflect on parts of his life that he has spent years repressing. He continues to assist her, and many other ‘Broken People’ through his blog. When he meets an extremely independent girl who challenges him, his way of living, and his way of viewing life, he reluctantly listens. In doing so, he ponders his past mistakes, his future, and ultimately he finds his true self.

The Fat Kid travels from person to person through his blog, and as he does, he reflects on his childhood, being an adult, suicide, depression, parenting, family, being irresponsible, and being responsible.

I know this novel is remarkable. It is a powerful read. There are moments of hilarity, and a few scenes that will make even the toughest readers cry. Again, I truly believe the first person to merely review this work will commit to it. The market for this particular novel is vast. I have provided one hundred printed manuscripts to persons varying in age from 17-74, and the responses were almost all the same, “I laughed, I cried, and I am now questioning my life…wow, that was amazing, can I keep the manuscript ?” In fact, I placed my email address in the front of the ebook (posted on Amazon’s site last week), and more than one Amazon reader has emailed me in the week that it has been released, and said they felt the book was a “masterpiece”.

You owe it to yourself to read this book. You do. Everyone that reads this book agrees, it is one of the best books that they have ever read. Now that is a bold statement. Last nght, three people emailed me regarding the book. All three said it was the best book they had ever read. Ever.

None were suicidal. None had suicidal thoughts. None were necessarily “Broken”. They just picked it up over the weekend because it was a promo weekend, and it was free.

This book is deep. It has moments of hilarity. Moments of seriousness. Moments of ‘holy shit, what just happened?”. Moments that will make you reflect on childhood, and moments that will have you questioning just what type of parent you are.

If you’re between the ages of 15-75, read this book. It’s $3.99. The cost of a cup of Starbuck’s coffee.

And you’ll never be the same.

http://www.amazon.com/Broken-People-ebook/dp/B00DNMCKRI

Broken People

http://www.amazon.com/Broken-People-ebook/dp/B00DNMCKRI

This book is filled with satire, seriousness, and always has a story to tell.

Please take time to read it, you’ll be changed forever.

From a FAT KID Chapter…

And, as the mother completes one more scheduled late night careful administration of anesthesia, their daughter swallows in a Seven Eleven parking lot. The preteen cries for help went unanswered. Teenagers, eventually, turn into adults. Adults get married, have children, and expose their children to the abusive behaviors of a codependent relationship. And the cycle continues. Shellie would be no exception. But, it was the suicide threat that concerned me. As I drove, I wondered what was behind the suicide. There is always a reason, something, an event that takes them over the edge, making the pain unbearable. Sometimes it may be a combination of items that the person just can’t comprehend living with, but it’s always one thing that takes them over the edge. It’s not that they actually want to die. Generally, they just want the pain to stop.

God…

Grant me the serenity,

To accept the things I cannot change;

The courage to change the things I can;

And the wisdom to know the difference.

Amen.

Why could people not just apply this prayer to everyday living? Maybe, to all things that life offered them? I often wondered. For me, it was second nature. Still thinking about what may have taken Shellie over the edge, I drummed my fingers on the gear shift to the music. It seemed as though my hands were always busy doing something, and I rarely sat still. Just as I was finishing the current song on the play list, I looked up at the road. When I did, I noticed the brake lights of the car in front of me, but I forgot to react. I watched, in horrific slow motion, as the front of my BMW hit the rear of the twenty five year old Ford Taurus.

As I impacted the car, and pushed it about five feet forward, I did not think about damaging the Taurus. I didn’t wonder if anyone was hurt, or what may or may not have happened. I wondered what my current wreck count was. Fifteen? Thirty? Seventy? I had, over the course of the last year or so, rear ended at least five people. Each time, I needed a new hood, the front bumper repainted, and new grilles. In past years, I typically had a wreck about twice a year. Each time, I would rear end someone.

Disappointed, I got out of the car, not even paying attention to the car in front of me. I turned and looked at the front of the BMW, and as I suspected, it needed the standard repair. Hood, grilles, and bumper repaint. This was my third e46 platform BMW M3. I had driven this particular series of car for ten years, and it had become a trademark of mine. All I did was change colors. I vowed to never have anything else.

As I turned to the car that I had hit, and then focused my eyes on the fifty something year old woman that had exited from the Taurus. She got out, turned to me, and said, “What in the world were you doing? I can tell you what you weren’t doing, and that’s paying attention to driving. I watched you for the last three miles. Are you just drunk?” Her voice sounded like it was created by a rubber band that was stretched too tight, and left in the California sun for a summer.

She was dressed like a bum, and it appeared that her last few dollars were spent on her cigarettes, one of which hung from her right hand. She stunk like a tobacco bonfire, and I was ready for her to vanish. Her hair didn’t look like it had been washed for quite some time. Nice look, lady. Dreadlocks on a fifty year old white woman. Well, if she fell asleep smoking, at least her hair wouldn’t immediately go up in flames. Or would it? I stood and wondered if the grease in the dreadlocks would be an accelerant or a deterrent.

“Ma’am, I am sorry for the damage to your car. Maybe we should pull over and discuss matters,” I looked at her hair with disgust, but offered a smile. I suspect I looked like a liar.

“I have called the police,” she said. “That’s what I was doing while you were looking at your car.” She blew smoke from her grotesquely tan nose as she spoke. Her lips were wrinkled and covered in lines.

“Police?” I uttered. “Why did you call the fucking police? This is something we can settle right here and now. I do not want to wait for the police.”

“Well, when you are involved in a wreck, you call the police. It is required” she said, taking another unnecessary pull from what appeared to be a cigarette butt.

Standing in front of her, I made eye contact. With my hands in my pockets, I tried to convince her, “It is not required, it is recommended,” I lied. “We can settle this right here and now, without the police, and go about our way, and everyone’s happy.” She started to interrupt, but I continued, and added a little embellishment, “You decide what the damage repairs to your car are worth, and I hand you cash. It’s that simple. You decide, plain and simple. I haven’t had my insulin shot this morning, and I need to get home as soon as possible. Truth be known, I am sure that’s why I was daydreaming. What do you think?”

Puzzled, she looked at me and spoke, “Let me get this straight, I give you an amount, and you pay me caaaaaaaash?” The word ‘cash’ lasted a lifetime. I waited, as she attempted to finish her sentence, for the rubber band in her throat to snap.

“Yes ma’am, cash,” Pointing to the side of the road, I continued. “But we either need to settle this, or move to the side of the road. We are going to get hit. Again.” I was trying to encourage her to make a decision so I could leave before the police arrived.

People had gathered, and were watching the show, asking to make sure we were not injured. She looked at the rear of her car, looked at the sides, and placed her hand on her chin. Turning to face me, she made her offer.

“Two hundred dollars.” She raised one eyebrow, and tossed the butt in the street, stepping on it with her toe.

Broken People

Broken People

FREE THIS WEEKEND

http://www.amazon.com/Broken-People-ebook/dp/B00DNMCKRI

FREE THIS WEEKEND

From time to time, a book comes along, and makes you stop. It makes you stop and second guess who you are, what you’re doing in life, with life, and for the ones you love. This is that book. Through colorfully painted characters, “Broken People” forces the reader to reflect on self. There will be a broken part of you in one (or all) of these characters, guaranteed. The Fat Kid is a self-proclaimed therapist who devotes his life to help people that have difficulties helping themselves, people he considers to be ‘broken’. When he encounters a bulimic teenage girl through his internet blog who threatens to commit suicide, he begins to reflect on parts of his life that he has spent years repressing. He continues to assist her, and many other ‘Broken People’ through his blog. When he meets an extremely independent teenage girl who challenges him, his way of living, and his way of viewing life, he reluctantly listens. In doing so he challenges his past mistakes, his future, and ultimately he finds himself. Intentionally becoming obese in an effort to shield himself from the approach of outsiders wanting to better understand him, The Fat Kid hides behind his thick outer self. With an overbearing obnoxious attitude, he allows few people to enter his otherwise private life. Most of the people that he encounters come from his internet blog, and pose no real threat to him or to his odd lifestyle.

Through his reflections on past experiences and his online assistance to others, we are exposed to alcoholism, addiction, drugs, racism, relationships, homosexuality, love, romance, teen relationships, parenting, teen sex, codependency, divorce, obesity, overworked parents, teen pregnancy, bulimia, bathroom selfies, tattoos, parenting, education, Twitter, YouTube, Facebook, and photo sharing are all discussed at length. The result is a book that will have you laughing, crying, contemplating your own life, and the lives of your parents and/or children. A must read for parents and children alike, regardless of age. It gives teens and young adults an honest look at what parents consider, and provides parents with a realistic view of what teens are exposed to in today’s competitive social networking world.

If you enjoy it, please leave a review on Amazon

Scott Hildreth, author Broken People