**Author's Note: For some reason Blogger keeps running all my paragrapghs together. If this looks wonky, please forgive!
It's week two of my month long Pre-Evie celebration! Before I get to the featured deleted scene, I'd like to announce week one's randomly chosen winner of a free not-yet-released copy of EVIE EVER AFTER. Congratulations, Amanda E! Woo-hoo! Please provide me with a mailing address by emailing me at email@example.com
A special thank you to everyone who 'entered' via comment and please try again! Here's the scoop... (as some of you already know.)
To celebrate the March release of the third book in The Chameleon Chronicles, I'm sharing a deleted scene from EVIE EVER AFTER and giving away one of my author’s copies of this book, every Tuesday in February! That’s one deleted scene and one free book each week for a month!
Please note these deleted scenes are unedited. I wrote them and then cut them from the story for various reasons. The fun thing about these deleted scenes is that they’ll give you an idea of my process. They’re not polished. It’s true seat-of-the-pants writing.
Last week I shared a scene that I wrote as the opening for EVIE EVER AFTER and then ditched. I think I wrote probably five different openings before one screamed, "I'm it!" This week I'm sharing another one of those ditched openings, very different then last weeks. Instead of focusing on back story, its more focused on Evie background. I really liked this--it says a lot about the inner Evie--but... it wasn't the one. Curious as to your thoughts. Enjoy!
DELETED SCENE #2
Growing up I wanted to be a famous singer. When most kids were singing Yankee Doodle Dandy, I was singing Don’t Sleep in the Subway. I have a vivid memory of swinging on a play set at school recess and singing Born Free at the top of my lungs. Kind of quirky and dramatic for a six year old, don’t you think? I’d pump my scrawny legs and arms and swing higher, reaching for the stars as I bellowed, “Born free to follow your heart.”
A concept that rooted and propelled me through life. A concept that, until recently, drove my grounded, logical mom batty.
That same year, my dad, who happened to be the bank president in our tiny Indiana town, drove by and saw me hanging by my knees on the monkey bars, my skirt over my head, my cotton flowered panties bared for my classmates and anyone who motored by to see. That evening my conservative parents gave me my first whopper lecture on what is and isn’t acceptable behavior for a good girl.
Come to think of it, that was a very formative year.
My name is Evie Parish and, due to natural talent and blind determination, I did, in fact, grow up to be a singer. I left my small mid-western hometown, performed in nightclubs across the country, and eventually settled in Atlantic City, NJ. I never made the big time, never landed a recording contract (not for lack of trying) or a booking on The Tonight Show (I was so certain I’d be interviewed by Johnny), but I did make my living as a professional performer for more than twenty-five years.
Born free and born to entertain, my most valuable quality was my versatility. I could sing, dance, act with the best of them and at least hold my own. If I didn’t know how to do something, I learned pronto. You want me to swing dance? Sing jazz? Emcee a blackjack tournament? Call bingo? Let a magician saw me in half? Impersonate Betty Boop?
My motto was never say, no. Although I suffered occasional dry spells, that motto and my stellar work ethics kept the gigs flowing and saved me from a—shudder—normal nine to five. And okay, it didn’t hurt that I married my agent which, meant I got first call on a lot of auditions and gigs.
Though I never achieved fame beyond the Atlantic City casino ballrooms, lounges, and showrooms, my life was chugging along just fine, thank you very much.
Then I committed the cardinal sin in the entertainment industry. I turned forty. Actually, my career started fizzling as I neared forty, about the same time Michael (the aforementioned husband and agent) started sleeping with Sasha, a twenty-something lingerie model. Now we’re divorced and they’re married. Oh, and she’s pregnant. Never mind that he never wanted to have children with me. I’m not bitter. Okay. That’s a lie. I’m a little bitter. But I’m on the road to recovery, and karmic payback, Michael’s freaking out because I’ve fallen hard for an old acquaintance of his. Arch Duvall, a sexy bad boy who currently works for the good guys.
So ends Deleted Scene #2! Now, on to the giveaway. Just give me a shout out here and you’re automatically entered to win a copy of EVIE EVER AFTER. The winner will be randomly picked and announced next Tuesday . . . just before the third deleted scene and giveaway.
Thanks for celebrating with me (and Evie)!