history – Britt Skrabanek

#LoveWins

Yesterday was a historic day for the United States. No matter who you are or what your beliefs are, there was no escaping the celebration. Because love won.

As we were sitting at the bar last night, out on the town with so many other Portlanders, I knew I had to come back from my summer blogging break to say a little something.

Though I have always been “straight”, many of the people I have been closest too throughout my life have been “gay”.

I cherish the times I spent laughing my ass off with my awesome dancer friends backstage, kickin’ it with my wonderful boys in downtown Dallas, and dancing like mad at Pridefest with my incredible coworker.

We went through some really tough times together too. All of them had stories about their struggle for acceptance in the world—as they grew up, as they told their families, as they braved the corporate world.

Thankfully my friends made it through. But others were lost along the way to addiction and even suicide.

Their sexual preferences made absolutely no difference to me. All of them were my friends, and I’m not the type of gal that let’s a lot of people in.

I let them into my life, because they were so genuine, kind, and fun. Some of the best times of my life happened with these beautiful friends. Mr. H and I met through our “gay” friends and had our first date at a “gay” club.

When I was working at a big name retail store last year, doing that job was pretty much the last thing I wanted to do. After we moved across the country, I was job hunting like crazy and I needed to pay the bills.

Last May I had an unforgettable experience. I helped the sweetest middle-aged “lesbian” couple pick out a wedding dress.

Oregon had just passed same-sex marriage and they were in a huge rush. Though I had a blast running around the entire store with them, picking out accessories to go with the dress, I had to ask: “Why are you in such a hurry?”

They stopped and their smiles fell. “Because we’re afraid they’re going to change their minds.”

To the gals out there, I have this to say…you don’t have to feel afraid or apart. You don’t have to wait anymore. Celebrate your love.

To the boys out there, I have this to say…you don’t have to feel afraid or apart. You don’t have to wait anymore. Celebrate your love.

One of my longtime friends, Kyle, said something on Facebook that made me teary-eyed on the city sidewalk last night.

“Thanks for being an ally. But most of all, thanks for being you. Love you both! Miss u!”

I will always be an ally for people like Kyle and I will always be an ally for love. There is no space in my heart for hate, and perhaps one day there will be no space in our world for hate.

Yesterday was a historic day, a day of hope when love kicked some ass.

(I realize this is a touchy subject for some, so I ask that you refrain from commenting on this blog if you have something negative to say. Positive comments are absolutely welcome. #LoveWins )

Goodbye, Kindle

Those of you who know me are used to this. I get attached to things—like, REALLY attached.

The time I tried to pretend that I was a real adult, somewhere around the age of 25, I declared to Mr. H that it was time to get rid of Ken the cow.

ken the cow on the road — (If you haven’t met him, this is Ken and he’s awesome.)

I made him put Ken in a duffel bag so I couldn’t see his face as he went out the front door, out of my life forever.

As you can imagine, that made it even worse. It was like my favorite stuffed animal friend was being carried off in a body bag.

Mr. H hesitated by the door, took one look at me, and brought Ken safely back inside. He knew.

I still have Ken the cow to this day. I’m in my thirties, I sleep with a stuffed animal—and dammit—I don’t care.

Today this post is about letting go of another friend, who simply goes by the name of Kindle.

My mom asked me if I wanted the new Kindle for my birthday next week, which is the sweetest gift she could ever offer me. Naturally, I hesitated before saying yes.

Me and Kindle go WAY back. My mom passed him on to me back in 2012 when she got an iPad.

It was a life-changing moment for me, when I finally decided to give ebooks a chance after being such a paperback purist.

But I wanted to read ebooks by other indie authors, to support them in the same way that some of them have supported me.

Kindle was the way to do it.

Me and Kindle got off to a rocky start. I was reluctant to give up real books in any way. Kindle knew our relationship would take some time and he was very patient with me.

But then, tragedy struck.

Hazel the cat murdered him, knocked him right off the top of our built-in cabinet. I found Kindle’s lifeless body on the floor. I pressed his power button repeatedly, trying to resuscitate him…but there was nothing.

Until that moment, I didn’t realize how close I had become to Kindle and I was very sad. I went back to regular books for a while, then months later—for shits and giggles—I tried turning Kindle back on.

And he was alive. Back from the dead!

After that we were inseparable, and I rarely left the house without Kindle by my side.

He showed me many wonderful novels on his little screen. He didn’t mind when I spilled beer on him and he never judged me when I was too tired to spend quality time with him in bed.

Kindle didn’t complain once during our cross-country move from Milwaukee to Portland. He was a real trooper and a stand-up guy.

New Kindle arrived on Thursday. It’s lightweight, tech savvy, and shiny.

The transition has been made. My library is now on New Kindle, but I haven’t read anything just yet. I needed to give Original Kindle a proper goodbye with this tribute.

Though I only captured a few moments, here are some of our fondest memories together…

Thanks for everything, Kindle. You will be missed!

P.S. In case you missed grabbing the Everything’s Not Bigger freebie last weekend, if you have Amazon prime, you can borrow two of my books completely free from the Owner’s Library—Everything’s Not Bigger and I just added Nola Fran Evie. Enjoy!

Book review – Nola Fran Evie, Britt Skrabanek

Five star reviews for my darling third novel, NOLA FRAN EVIE, started popping up on Amazon and Amazon UK over the weekend…woot!

“Rich characters, snappy dialogue, and fluid writing make this book a wonderful way to spend a few hours.”

“The characters come to life on the page and at turns, you root for each of them. Funny, moving, nostalgic and fast-paced, this is the best book Britt has written yet. Thoroughly recommended.”

A big thank you to those readers for taking the time to be awesome and review!

Today I’m stoked to share this fabulous review from blogger pal Roy McCarthy at Back on the Rock. He has been kind enough to leave sterling reviews for all three of my books so far, and I am very grateful for his support.

Be sure to swing by and read the full piece.

And, obviously, see what all the fuss is about and snatch up a copy of NOLA FRAN EVIE on Amazon for yourself. You’ll be doing a good deed for a lovable indie author, yours truly, and in return you get to be entertained for a bit. : )

Happy Sunday, loves!

Back On The Rock

I guessed Britt Skrabenek’s third book was going to be good. What I wasn’t expecting was to be taken on quite such a roller coaster. It starts a little jerkily with four main characters and three time frames but it soon gathers pace and takes the reader on a great ride.

We follow three young women playing professional baseball together in the 1940s, full of hope and joie de vivre. Nothing can stop them and they form a bond which, though soon broken, is to be re-formed later. The try-out day is portrayed with dash and humour as the ‘girlies’ are discarded and only those with toughness and talent, including the three protagonists Lippy, Toots and Farm Girl, make the grade.

But inevitably the good times end and the women go their separate ways into the real world. Life changes them. Love is won and lost. It is 1950s America…

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Nola Fran Evie is Now Available

I’m gonna be candid right now. Writing my first two books was a damn struggle.

The first, Beneath the Satin Gloves, took me three years to finish. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing and I certainly didn’t believe in myself. With the support of my husband and my own stubborn determination, I powered through until the day my shaky finger clicked the publish button.

The second, Everything’s Not Bigger, only took me six months. This book was purely written as therapy. Deep soul-searching was done during this time and though it has been less popular, writing the story was the release I needed to enter a new chapter in my life.

So, I wrote a third…NOLA FRAN EVIE.

I didn’t struggle with this one. Discovering clues from 1954 in a vintage handbag provided succinct inspiration for a story that I knew I was fated to write.

I had a flow, an unstoppable rhythm that moved me.

And most of all during this third round of self-publishing, I had all of you out there. My second year of blogging has brought so many phenomenal humans into my life. The positive spirit of the writing community continues to astound me each day.

Without my husband, my family, my friends, my bloggers, and my readers…finishing another book would never have been possible. So, thank you.

Now I must call upon my beautiful community to help me with the final stages of this project. For today I am releasing NOLA FRAN EVIE into the world.

I have poured all of my energy into this story for the last year and a half of my life. As an indie author I have no team to do my historical research or market my book to the masses.

Yet I also know that I am not alone.

You are all a part of my team. I would be forever grateful for any support you can offer with this book release in the form of reading it, sharing it, and reviewing it.

Because this is a dream I will continue to cultivate. And hey, life is something to celebrate and we can always use one more story.

Without further ado, I am beyond proud to bring you…NOLA FRAN EVIE.

They were unladylike rebels, three young women abandoning rolling pins for baseball bats to join the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League. They changed history and that changed them. After the league folds in 1954 Nola, Fran, and Evie meet by chance on a popcorn-scented summer day where it all began…Wrigley Field, Chicago. They team up once again to fight for a pivotal cause these dames can only win by uniting as one.

Inside these ball players lies a fierce beauty, an unconventional destiny beyond the kitchen. Foregoing the American dream of sparkling cars and pastel suburbia, together they face up to the reality of nuclear drills and civil rights. Their story is uncovered nearly forty years later when Jacks Demonte discovers a trail of clues tucked away in a vintage handbag. The extraordinary lives of these women intersect with Demonte’s as she falls deeper into a heroic past.

BUY IT NOW AT AMAZON

That Unmistakable American Comfort

I played baseball for a bit when I was younger. I was pretty damn awful.

Writing an entire novel with a strong baseball element seemed daunting at first. Writers are told to write what they know and baseball was foreign in so many ways.

Then, I realized it wasn’t foreign at all. For what can be more American than baseball?

In my eyes, watching games on TV never did baseball justice. I was very lucky, because my dad took me to a professional game every summer when I was a kid.

Although I wasn’t a good player, I loved the intense magic of going to a game. The enticing smell of popcorn in the air, the perfection of the combed dirt and manicured grass, and the joyful innocence of every spectator regardless of age.

Even today, these memories with my dad are very dear to me. And it was not until writing this book that I found the right one to dedicate to him…

For My Dad…He taught me I was just as good as the boys.

Funny thing is, this story fell right into my lap.

I’ve always wondered what opening a treasure chest might feel like, and a couple of years ago I found out when I discovered clues from 1954 in this vintage handbag.

Hidden deep inside the crevices of the musty lining were these…

And this…

On the back of the voting receipt was a shopping list written in a woman’s elegant handwriting…

CHOCOLATE

FLY SWATTER

SHOES

FILM

LOAN

Suddenly I was linked to the past, to a woman who carried this handbag sixty years ago. I pictured three different women who might have owned it and my imagination went wild.

So wild that I wrote my third book, NOLA FRAN EVIE.

The baseball tickets were from 1954. Interestingly enough, the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League folded that same year. I decided this was fate, so I brought these historic women back to life in my book.

The women who played in the league during WWII were considered unladylike and unusual. But during that time women filled in for men everywhere while they fought overseas, including the baseball field. The boys weren’t there to throw the ball around, since they were busy pitching grenades.

Though at first seen as a girly spectacle, according to aagpbl.org, during the league’s peak year in 1948 the teams attracted 910,000 paid fans.

Photo Credit: State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory; 1948

Before the movie “A League of Their Own” came out in 1992, the women’s league was hiding out in the dusty shadows of history. The film is actually done quite well, with a decent amount of historical accuracy.

Most importantly, the film brought these incredible women who changed history into our modern lives.

Besides the film and some non-fiction, my online search the other day did not provide any fiction books written about the All-American Girls Baseball League. To tell you the truth, I’m a bit shocked.

I hope this book will honor the female players in the smallest way that I am capable of. For they were brave women who forever deserve to be recognized and celebrated.

An excerpt from NOLA FRAN EVIE—from the first chapter we meet Nola in 1954, ten years after she has left the league…

Dark shades receded from her face. Nola soon became a welcoming victim to the cloudless skies and breathless majesty of the stadium. Brick red dirt intermingled with apple green grass, both pristinely groomed for the occasion. White bases littered the canvas sporadically, accenting the no man’s land like islands of security.

It smelled like her dreams.

Silently, Nola reached her son’s side and gave him the soda. He drank straight from the rim of the bottle while she applied more lipstick to her curvy straw.

They joined hands and slurped. Energy, awe-inspired energy, radiated through their palms.

They descended the stairs—toe ball heel, toe ball heel—tiptoeing upon the unsuspecting field with care. Sunlight bounced off their shiny hair, illuminating them as they drank their pops.

At the railing they released hands and leaned forward to absorb every scent on the field. The earth, the sweat, the leather.

Grady spoke first, his voice clear over the murmuring crowd and the provoking announcer. “Can you imagine, Ma?”

Drunk with memories, Nola briefly touched the back of his head. “Imagine what, little sir?”

He folded his lanky arms on the railing and rested his chin. “All of this.” His blue eyes devoured the field, admiring each player warming up.

Nola followed his gaze and mirrored his love for all that was happening.

The ball shot through the air, a stitched bird gliding until it met the leathered hand of its receiver. Then it catapulted to another, simultaneously graceful and open-minded about its destiny. Tobacco spit shredded the clean air like tarred fireworks. Backsides were scratched with opulent vigor. Sneers and jeers traded seamlessly from one ace to another.

Like the thick noise of the stadium every part of the experience blanketed her, smothering everything Nola thought she needed, replacing it with what she really craved…baseball.

“Yes, I think I can imagine all of this.”

He squinted at her, confused by her unexpected response.

She cupped Grady’s chin with her quivering hand. “I think I can.”