I’ll Be Happy When…

Finding Happiness

Happiness. We put so much pressure on that single word, don’t we?

It’s all too easy to get stuck in this mental cycle of thinking happiness will magically arrive once we get something we thought we wanted more than anything else—when we accomplish something we worked our asses off to get.

I’ll be happy when I get that promotion.

I’ll be happy when I buy that house.

I’ll be happy when I write that book.

Do we feel happy after obtaining or accomplishing any of these things? Not for very long. Like coming down from a high, we crash and we wonder where it all went wrong.

Hey, what happened to my happiness I deserve? I worked so hard for it, and now it’s gone.

The build-up we attach to thinking happiness comes after a certain thing causes this self-destructive roller coaster of emotions.

As a writer, I know this feeling well. And I see it all the time in other writers.

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Okay, that’s the teaser for the guest blog post I wrote over at Chris Stocking’s place.

To celebrate the relaunch of his website, my good friend asked me and a couple of writers to kick off christopherstocking.com with some good old fashioned writing about writing.

Head on over, read the rest of the piece, and check out his new pad. (And, make sure to bring Chris some good beer, since I know he worked hard on everything.)

Cheers, Chris!

Thursday Night

cat stars

Something interesting happens on Thursday nights. I’m usually wiped out from the workweek, ready for the weekend.

But the self-doubt never fails. I ask myself…how in the hell will I be me again?

You know what I’m talking about, right?

That little bit of sacred time when you get to do whatever you want. Whatever that may be.

No deadlines. No meetings. No schedules.

And, cue panic.

The panic to live. To try to get everything done in a couple of days—the laundry, the grocery store, the exercise, the relaxing, the creativity, the lovemaking.

Thursday nights always happen the same way for me. I’m tired and moody, but after a couple of necessary beers and some laughs, I unlock myself. I remember what it’s like to be me again.

We never talk about Thursdays. We talk about Monday blues and Friday fun.

I don’t know why, but on Thursdays, a couple of hours before I go to bed, I become me again. Thinking about things that mean something, looking at my husband like I haven’t seen him in ages, realizing how damn beautiful he is.

A couple of months ago I started a new job and I remember thinking on a Thursday night—how am I going to keep up with it all? My marriage, my cats, my apartment, my family, my friends, my Yoga, my running, my blog, my novels, my “me”.

That night I wrote the opening scene to my next novel. Crazy as that sounds, after three books and no fame, I’m going to write another.

Because I have to. Because I can’t help myself. Because this is me.

This novel will be a departure from the historical fiction novelista many of you know me to be.

I’ve decided to go forward, just a little, to a time just beyond now when we haven’t learned from the mistakes of history, when we’ve become a world where the people in charge (the government, the dictator, the tyrant) forbid love.

Because love is the one thing THEY can’t control. And the funny thing is, if we all just loved more…the world could be so much better, perhaps peaceful even.

Hell, wouldn’t that be something?

The working title for my next novel is Virasana. It’s a Sanskrit word for one of the few Yoga poses I just cannot do, but an amazing one nonetheless.

For those who practice Yoga, you’ll smile at my choice. The English translation is pretty awesome.

The main character is a reluctant heroine with the power to command nature at her will—something she doesn’t understand, something she learns is her greatest power.

In the opening scene the main character is on the edge of a cliff, alone in a familiar place where her and her man used to be together, side by side. Everything is fragrant and green, the newness that comes with spring.

I can’t make any promises on a release timeframe, because I have very little time to write.

I haven’t touched this since I first wrote it that Thursday night, but I’ve looked at it many times and knew that it was right. I don’t have time to continue with it right now, but I hope to soon.

For some reason this particular Thursday night I decided it was time to share it.

This is what I have so far…

I got so used to you sitting beside me.
It was all a routine…like breakfast.
But you were better than breakfast. You nourished me like nothing else.
For a good while there—um—I guess I felt full. Maybe even stuffed.
Can you believe that?
Me.
Stuffed on love, on you.
Well, not anymore.
I’m always hungry for you.
Actually, I’m starving.
But, hey. You’re not here anymore, are you?
Come on.
Pretty please.
Say something, release me.
Really?
You’ve got nothing?
Alright, fine. So, where was I?
Oh, yeah. You’re not here anymore, are you?
No.
The grass and the dandelions have reclaimed your space. My tears have watered them, helped them grow. My lips have made them tender and alive.
How in the hell did I do that? I’m so dead.
No.
That would be too easy.
Under the earth where nobody can see me.
I’m dried out, alone.
Above the earth where everyone can see me. Everyone.
Yes.
That’s more like it. That’s hard.
Real hard.
Hey—um—I have a question for you.
Yeah, you. You’re the only one I know that can answer it, so listen up.
What’s this excuse for a world without you by my side?
Come on.
Pretty please.
Say something, release me.

Across the Sound

There’s something so awesomely crazy about driving, transporting your car on water, then driving away again. I mean, how often do you get to do that?

Okay, some get to do it often. The people of Seattle sure do.

For the rest of us, it’s kind of a miraculous feeling.

It was a few minutes before 8am last Saturday when me, Mr. H, and our car, Uschi, loaded onto the Edmonds-Kingston ferry in Washington.

We stepped out of the car to stretch our legs and watched the serene world go by through the big windows inside.

I love the inside of ferries, don’t you? They’re always so retro and battered, a great backdrop for some impromptu modeling shots.

inside edmonds-kingston ferry

edmonds-kingston ferry galley

I had been on a ferry once, maybe twice before, when I was a pup back in Southern California. But nothing could prepare me for taking a ferry across the Puget Sound on a January morning.

We scurried onto the freezing deck like a couple of kids.

It reminded me of running into the living room on Christmas morning, sneaking around at the crack of dawn so I could check out the pretty presents under the tree before Dad woke up.

britt on the ferry

edmonds washington

Every possible shade of blue, purple, and grey surrounded me. Like I had opened a box of crayons with only a few options.

But I wasn’t disappointed. It was just too beautiful.

puget sound in the morning

olympic mountains puget sound

Where does the water end? Where does the sky begin? I wanted to cry—my eyes barely knew how to handle visions like this…

puget sound

Others on the boat were just as hypnotized as we were. Bundled up couples strolled the deck, physically attached to each other in some way, their bodies begging for warmth.

couple walking on edmonds-kingston ferry

freezing on the edmonds-kingston ferry

A man who has probably taken this route every single day for years couldn’t resist the temptation to step outside in the biting cold.

To marvel at all of it—the majesty, the simplicity.

man on ferry

Even with all of this power, somehow the Sound was soundless. Here was a welcoming haven from the boisterous world we knew all too well.

The water danced, only because it wanted to. The wind whispered poetry. The birds played it cool.

It was a foreign land, an exquisite secret. Nobody gets to stay here…you can only pass through.

We felt honored to be here, to breathe in this unexpected bliss as we glided across the Sound.

 

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…

my very first kindle

Kindle cat

fall of giants kindle

cat kindle stand

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!

Support Your Indies…Last Chance for a Free Book!

Trying to take my passport photo with a straight face.
Trying to take my passport photo with a straight face never works.

 

This weekend has been pretty wild with my first time using Amazon’s KDP Select freebie days for one of my books.

On the first day Everything’s Not Bigger ranked at #15 on Amazon under Action & Adventure/Romance, if you can believe it. This little indie author was quite confused by that awesome stuff!

I wanted to take a moment to thank so many of you out there for your lovely support this weekend.

Besides grabbing your free copies, there have been reblogs and social media shares like crazy. So…thank you!

Just a friendly reminder that the free promotion ends at midnight PST tonight. If you haven’t scooped up this book yet, you know what to do.

GRAB IT NOW AT AMAZON

GRAB IT NOW AT AMAZON UK

Everything's Not Bigger Cover

Hope you’re all having a beautiful Sunday!