Entertainment – Page 15 – Britt Skrabanek

The Urge to Dance

Once upon a time I called myself a dancer. I danced my whole life until the end of last year when quite suddenly…I stopped.

No more teaching, no more leotards, no more performances. Just like that.

Such a monumental transition in my life was very hard for me to swallow, and most of 2013 was spent figuring out who I was beyond the dancer. When you’ve been doing something for over twenty years, it has a way of becoming a part of you.

I wrote I Found Some Change, which some of you may remember, when it all happened.

Recently Mr. H was out of town and I had this crazy urge to dance.

It was dark, the cats were asleep, and uncharacteristically I felt lonely. So I threw on jeans and a tank top, some music, and filmed this in one shot.

It wasn’t about choreography or perfection, it was simply about moving.

Mr. H threw in some nifty video effects after he saw it. So even though we were apart when it started, we came together to create something in the end.

The video is silent, due to music rights mumbo jumbo that I didn’t want to mess with on YouTube. But I realized that the silence itself was beautiful, because when I move everything becomes still and quiet. The music, even the sound of my own breath.

This project taught me that entirely letting go of something isn’t always the right thing to do. The dancer is still inside and I’m OK with it being right there.

2nd Draft…BAM!

It all began in August, the dreaded second draft.

The first time you read the work you poured your heart and soul into can be a frightening thing. A damn frightening thing.

Is it shit? I mean, is it complete and total shit?

Well, it might be to other people but I dig it. And at the end of the day, amidst subjective opinions on all things artistic, if I dig it, then that’s really all that matters.

This second draft and I are war buddies.

Over the past four months we stuck it out together, on Sundays for a chunk of time and usually on Wednesday nights when I was ready to keel over from day job and Yoga teaching repercussions.

I worked over a couple of paragraphs, folded some laundry, then parked it back in my chair and continued. My dinner got cold on the table just so I could sneak a page in. Headphones blocked out everything from Sunday football to my guitarist wannabee apartment manager on the first floor (we live two floors above him, we often want to chop our ears off and be done with it), so I could manage an entire chapter.

Last weekend I trudged through the final pages and finished. Bam!

If it hadn’t been so arctic outside, I probably would’ve screamed out my window: “Second draft, you were my Everest. And, I conquered your ass!”

But, I refrained. And my neighbors shall continue loathing our noisy manager rather than yours truly, the dorky writer with too much enthusiasm.

I had to share the excitement with all of you guys though.

There’s still a long road ahead, including the next stage which I call “The Serial Killer Phase”. Nope, I don’t write about serial killers. However when it’s time to reference the serial killer notes sitting on my bedside table, that’s the phase I’m talking about.

Writers, you know the notes. Random thoughts and dialogue, groovy sentences from authors who know a thing or two, and of course, the crazed scribbling that happens in the middle of the night or first thing in the morning.

Obsession with a splash of insomnia. Hence, serial killer notes…

Lastly, there will be more editing, reading, editing, reading…until I can’t stand looking at it anymore. That’s where my in-law editors come in for moral support, right before I chuck the dissected, stitched, scarred draft promptly in the garbage.

Long story short, my vague release date for The Bra Game is set for late Spring 2014. So, yay for that!

Goat Repartee

Like anyone else, there are moments when social media chaps my ass.

The time sucking factor. The guerilla warfare book marketing tactics – zombie erotica…I think I’ll pass. But, it’s free on Amazon this weekend. I’ll still pass. And, the selfies. So many, many selfies.

For better or worse, social media is a communication tool.

Whether we love it or we hate it, it’s there for us to interact with people anywhere in the world, to express our thoughts, dreams, and opinions, to try to make it out there when you’re a one-woman indie author show like yours truly.

I admit it. At first I didn’t know how in the hell to use social media properly, especially Twitter which was a complete mystery. No, I wasn’t ever the hardcore zombie erotica book salesman that you wanted to strangle.

I always understood that social media was about reaching people from a personal standpoint, not by going apeshit and throwing poop at their faces while screaming “Look at me, damnit!”.

Instead, you have to go the baby chimpanzee route: make odd and adorable faces constantly, cling just enough to show your softer side, build a kick ass community to keep you warm and safe, and share the love for cyber hugs.

(Not sure what’s going on with the primates in this post…my sincerest apologies. I’ll get to goats soon, I promise.)

Anyways, I used to try to keep up with everybody and everything and I almost lost my damn mind. That’s not how you use social media, unless you want to end up in the loony bin trying to rub off that hashtag forehead tattoo you thought was a bitchin’ idea.

Over the past six months, I’ve scaled back a lot of my social media playtime. I’m a busy gal, so I tend to concentrate on deeper connections with some and let the rest just keep on streamin’.

Yet, last week something truly magnificent happened, a legendary dialogue, one for the social media history books. While feces flew all around, the baby chimps were making cute conversation and playing social media the right way.

I simply had to share…

The Players: Sheila, Carrie, Letizia, and Me

The Scene: Twitter

The Muse: Goat

The End

Clearly if you’re not following us gals on Twitter, you’re missing out. Feel free to chime in about goats or other subjects if goats aren’t your thing.

Sheila – @SheilaHurst11

Carrie – @carrie_rubin

Letizia – @readinterrupt

Me – @brittskrabanek

Beneath the Satin Gloves – FREE on Smashwords!

That’s right, loves! For the rest of October my debut indie book is totally FREE on Smashwords.

For those unfamiliar with Smashwords, know that they are a very pro-indie author distributor, offering any e-book format in existence. Instructions are right here so you know what to do after you download the format you need. With my Kindle Fire, I just email the mobi file right to my Kindle email address.

To get the free goods, use the coupon code down below.

A modern day woman, torn by her illusive dreams, awakens to a strange life in 1943, hurdled against the throes of destruction in wartime Berlin. Following a haphazard trail of clues, she discovers her new identity as Alina Feuer, code-named Sparrow, a famous entertainer, seducing a high-ranking SS officer to gather vital information for the Allies.

But, Alina is an amateur in these incessant spy games, relying solely on her wit and instinct to make her next move while frantically hiding her erratic behavior from the watchful eyes of her suspicious liaison/love interest and her pestering socialite gal pal along the way. A reluctant heroine, she must use charismatic glamour as her weapon of choice to fulfill her deadly mission before the week is through.

Click here to buy on Smashwords

(just copy and paste coupon code MS89Y at check-out)

In true indie fashion, I interviewed myself. Check it out…

Dear Diary

For some reason when I get sick, I yearn for simpler times. Often there are only two things that can heal me: classic movies and keepsakes.

Audrey Hepburn reminds me there is still grace and beauty beyond my tangled hair, raw nose, and the pile of snot rags which strangely joined forces to become a second blankie.

Photos and old letters soothe me with their portrayals of youth and memories, so I can forget my phlegm-filled sorrows.

Last week while I was playing Britt Sniffles, I plunged into the bottom of my messiest closet and busted out my dusty box of journals.

OK, fine. They were diaries, alright?

As entertaining as my angsty, whiny, and heart-broken stack from my late teens/early twenties is, I’ve decided to share tidbits from my very first diary.

Aw, Britt.

(I know. I know.)

I’m a little unsure of the year, possibly 1990-1991. The Hula girl pic below is from the Britt era in question. For the sake of easier reading I fixed up some of the spelling errors, but I left the emotional quality intact.

Happy reading!

FEBRUARY 13

Dear Diary,

Today I got my first spiral perm. The perm took three hours. It was worse than I thought it would be.

JUNE 3

Dear Diary,

Today I did a Hawaiian dance. Before I danced, I ate. Then I danced, but I kind of messed up. I was lucky I was at the end of the line.

JUNE 5

Dear Diary,

Today I saw Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. It was a funny movie. It was also exciting.

OCTOBER 10

Dear Diary,

Today I whispered into Jeffrey’s ear…I love you. Then he said…what? So, I said it again but everybody in class heard me. I was embarrassed.

OCTOBER 15

Dear Diary,

Today was kind of an exciting day because I turned in my soda cans. I got fifty-three cents. So now I have forty-two dollars and fifty-eight cents.

OCTOBER 16

Dear Diary,

Today I learned how to do headstands and cartwheels and I was outside a long time with my friend. It was fun.

OCTOBER 22

Dear Diary,

Today I asked my dad to give me some words to look up. He gave me nine words and I looked up the nine words.

OCTOBER 24

Dear Diary,

Today we had burritos, salad, and milk. My lunch was good.

OCTOBER 27

Dear Diary,

Today at my reading class we had a test. I really don’t know if I got all of them right. I hope I did.