fiction – Page 8 – Britt Skrabanek

Intention to love in the new year

Here we are again. That time when we reflect on all that has happened and wonder what comes next.

For many of us, myself included, the coming of the new year carries some anxiety along with it. Did I live 2013 to its fullest? Will life be less awesome, as awesome, or more awesome in 2014?

The thing is, as long as we love we are living life to its fullest and life will be awesome. The rest of it – goals, money, things – they are radically insignificant.

Have dreams and do your best to soar, but don’t forget what’s right here on the ground. The family you don’t get to see enough, the spouse you are lucky to wake up next to, the friends you can share a ridiculous laugh or a magnificent cry with.

In 2014, I have a few bullet points I’d like to hit.

Publish my third book.
Get another stamp on my passport.
Continue a healthy life, including more meditation and Yoga.
Keep my closet clean.
Stop trying to do everything at once.

None of these are my resolutions. They are simply things I will work on throughout the year. Some will come easily, some will take a lot of work, and nobody will offer me a big, chintzy award for doing any of them.

Rather than a smattering of resolutions this year, I’d like to make a sankalpa instead.

A whaty-what?

Sankalpa is a Sanskrit word meaning “will, purpose, or determination”. While resolutions often channel a reprimanding energy toward ourselves – drink less, exercise more, (you get my drift) – a sankalpa is a positive intention.

When I look at my bullet points up there, I see that they are not particularly self-loathing, but I know I’ve made some tough love resolutions in the past. And, I’m sure many of you out there are struggling with the same right now.

So, I say…to hell with the tough love!

Let’s set a sankalpa together to love more. Your family, your spouse, your friends, and don’t forget yourself while you’re at it.

If we love more the rest of it becomes a little easier, the unattainable becomes attainable.

I always wonder what the world would be like if we all had the same intention, to focus more on love. I don’t know. It could be very awesome.

I would like to ask all of you to join me in this sankalpa to bring in the new year.

Chime in with some love in the comment section below. It can be anything you want, in any language you want: a famous quote, your unfamous quote, a list of people you love, a way that you can show your love more.

Thank you all for your beautiful support in 2013. You’re all lovely. Happy New Year.

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!

Me and My Shadow

Hey, Shadow.

Hey, Britt. What’s going on with you?

Eh, nothing. Ok, everything.

Emotional tug-of-war time again?

Yes, Shadow.

Why the struggle?

You ask a lot of questions, Shadow.

Hey, you haven’t spoken to me in a while. Got the feeling you wanted me to help you out.

No, you’re right. Sorry, sometimes you just get too close and it bothers me.

Britt, I’m your shadow.

Oh, right. Well, for a while now – the past four months or so – I’ve been trying to run away from myself. From you, too.

Ah geez, not that again. Britt, you know you can’t do that.

I know. But, sometimes it seems like being somewhere else – a new place, a new life – will be what I need. The happiness will be right there waiting for me.

That’s because you’re a gypsy. The gypsy yearns to roam because she fears that settling isn’t living. But there’s something pretty effing beautiful about rooting, Britt.

I’ve been thinking about that.

You’re you, dragging my shadowy ass behind you. No matter where you are, no matter what you do. We’re right there, through thick and thin.

That’s why I’ve decided to stay this time.

Really? No escapism for Britt Skrabanek?

Shadow, don’t be absurd. I’ll always have fiction.

Naturally. But otherwise, you’re gonna keep on keepin’ on?

Yeah.

I’m proud of you. Shocked as hell, but proud.

Thanks, Shadow. I’ve tried on a lot of different lives, traipsed across these United States searching for myself – for a place to fit in, for a place to call home.

Ha! You…fit in somewhere?

Delusional, I know.

Sounds like you don’t give a shit about that anymore.

I don’t. Because I’m kind of serene. Right here in this tiny city of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, U.S.A. I know where the potholes are in the streets, I have a favorite tree, and when the seasons change I feel alive.

You sure that’s grand enough for you, Britt?

Shadow, I’ve lived in grander cities before. Turns out, I’m not a grandiose kind of girl.

So, you’re cool right here?

Yes. Right here with my day job in my colorless cubicle. Right here teaching Yoga and seeing peace for the first time. Right here writing with all of my soul, exposing my vulnerability and being OK with that.

I’m happy for you, Britt. You’re home.

I like the way that sounds…I’m home.

Good, I was tired of chasing your crazy ass.

Damn, Shadow. Tell me how you really feel.

You know I don’t hold back with you.

You’re alright, Shadow. You’re alright.

So are you, Britt.

Hey, Shadow?

Yes, Britt?

Thanks for listening.

Any time. I’m always here when you need me.

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…

Vintage Soul

I know I’m not a new soul, but I’m not sure I’m an old soul either. Too much pressure with wisdom and all that jazz.

But, a vintage soul. That I am.

Vintage dress addiction. Guilty.

Half of my Pandora stations pre-1970. Yep, guilty.

Exclaiming “jeepers” in my kitchen last week. Guilty again.

Pretending to live in another time via fiction. So guilty.

My unhealthy obsession with World War II prompted me to write my first book Beneath the Satin Gloves. I didn’t have a clue how to write a book. I had a dream that shook me to my core. The ideas started filtering onto some crappy notebook I scribbled on during my lunch break. After telling Mr. H about it, he dared me to write a book.

After three years of off and on, and one cross-country move, I finished my first book. Since none of the agents I solicited gave two shits, I self-published, happily joining the indie author movement.

I’ve sold a few books. Not a ton, but some.

I haven’t thought much about the 1940s, except during backstory parts of my current WIP, The Bra Game, which mainly takes place in the 1950s.

Once I released my first baby into the world, I just moved on.

Until one night recently when I looked out my window and stared at my imagination come to life right across the damn street. I blinked, I blinked some more.

But, it was still there. A freaking 1940s limousine.

Now I’m not going to say that my book is historically accurate to perfection. Writing about a time when neither you nor your parents existed doesn’t offer much insight.

By golly, I did my research as best as I could!

The one scene that stumped me involved a limousine. I wrote everything, then stared blankly and pondered for weeks. I knew limousines then looked nothing like they do today. In fact, without researching their appearance at all, I envisioned it.

Turns out, creepy as it is, I pictured the 1940s limousine exactly the way it looked.

Yes, I gave myself a big pat on the back and squealed like the nerd I truly I am. Yes, I dragged Mr. H across the street, even though we were tipsy and wearing our pajamas, just so we could look at it and take way too many pictures.

This gem belonged to a swanky (actually, they were just really cute) old couple, who were visiting Milwaukee for a car show. Don’t worry, we weren’t the only creepers ogling the limo.

In fact, almost every person that walked by stopped and stared.

It was cool to see so many pedestrians appreciate such an artistic piece of history parked on the street. How can you not be captivated by such a sleek machine? Original paint. Original interior. All preserved by a man who couldn’t help but love it endlessly.

After we went back upstairs to our teensy, vintage apartment, the owner came out to grab something out of his kick-ass car. Some college guys stopped and soon enough, the old dude and the young dudes were hanging out talking shop.

I’m not a car enthusiast, personally. But when I saw this 1940s limo, its old beauty warmed my silly, vintage soul.

What about you guys? Ever seen a historical wonder that made your heart go pitter-patter?