further steampunkery

Sorry, but when I get a corset in the mail, I just *have* to post pics.

These things are like luscious, waist-wittling crack.

And, of course, it's by the lovely Michelle at Damsel in this Dress.

My first corset from her was a sleek, glistening, piratical thing, so I wanted something extra steampunky that would go with almost everything. I love how this brown one can be dressed up posh or dressed down for that "my airship just crashed and I need a ride to Constantinople" look.

After another trip to my favorite thrift store, I have a long khaki skirt with lace, this long black skirt, this engineer shirt, and a floofy black poet's blouse. Added to my plum skirt, white blouse, and black pinstripe vest, I basically purchased an entire steampunkable wardrobe for under $25. Well, and the corsets. But those are worth every penny.

Now I just need someplace to wear them to...

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keke!

Had my eyes dilated at noon. Three hours later, and my pupils are so big that I have a horrible headache and look like an anime character.

It went like this:

optometrist: Okay, so these drops will dilate your eyes. Do you need to do anything that involves reading today?

me: I'm a writer. All I do is read and write.

optometrist: Nothing else?

me: Sometimes I sleep.

optometris: Can you go home and take a nap?

me: Nope. I have two kids under 5.

optometrist: Bad news...

And then he put liquid poison in my eyes.

The worst part is that being on the laptop or reading makes a big ball of angry hatred pulse behind my eyeballs, so I have to go find something non-reading/writing to do. Something that doesn't involve bright light, focus, coordination, or concentration. I mean, I slipped on a Han Solo figurine while trying to do dishes and almost wiped out.

So... what's left?

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oh my, indeed.

I'm so honored and excited to see Wicked as They Come included in this hawt ad for the March edition of RT Magazine, one of the biggest venues for romance book reviews in the world.

Plus, Wicked includes both vampires *and* circus freaks, so that's a lot of bang for your buck.

Heh.

In other writing news, here's what I'm working on, two months before my first pub date:

* planning the launch party (Friday, 3/30, 7pm, FoxTale Book Shoppe, Woodstock, GA)

* writing an e-novella in the Blud world while listening to a lot of Gotye

* getting ready to write the second half of Blud book 2, out in Spring 2013

* wearing and loving the custom Sang scents from Villainess Soaps

* putting together steampunk costumes for Anachrocon and Dragon*Con

* networking and hoping to get involved with local lit festivals, cons, and book groups

* writing guest blogs and doing author interviews-- so much fun!

* planning to invite interested readers and friends from all over to participate in street teams to spread the Wicked word and receive perks like signed books and... other things I haven't dreamed up yet.

If anyone has a good idea for promoting the book, please let me know! I'd love to be on debut author panels at conferences within driving distance of Atlanta, have Skype chats with book clubs or writing groups, and do any sort of author interviews or guest posts on related blogs with followers who would be interested in steampunk paranormal romance.

Self-promotion:

It's scary, and I would rather be eating frozen cupcakes.

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behold the sekrit smellies

Things are in the works. Marvelous things. SEKRIT THINGS.

I will tell you this:

1. Brooke at Villainess Soaps is a lovely person and a super talented perfumer.

2. I now smell like Criminy Stain and have nearly sniffed myself delirious.

3. There may be a way for you to enjoy these in the future.

4. Smelling my characters is ONE OF THE COOLEST THINGS that has ever happened to me.

Extrapolate from that what you will.

SQUEE.

I <3 you x1000, Brooke!

*

the rockin' rainbow

So my Kindergarten-age spawn won the "Most Colorful" award in her school art show.

I can't really take any credit, aside from letting her use my "grown-up" watercolors. Just as they say the cobbler's children wear no shoes, so does this former art teacher's daughter receive very little art instruction. I've seen too many children her age forced into artistic conformity. It's so very heartbreaking when a seven-year old says, "My dad says I can't draw cats good. I'm a horrible artist!"*

So I only help my kids with art when they ask for it.

But shall I reveal what I believe to be the secret of successful art projects?

Use adult-quality materials.

If you give your kid the super-crappy 99cent Wal-Mart brand watercolor set and some computer printer paper, they're going to be disappointed and frustrated with their creation. It is simply impossible to create satisfying artwork using sub-par materials. When I taught kids' art classes, my supply fee was often a little higher than other teachers' fees, maybe $20 to their $12. And that was because I went to the art supply store and bought actual supplies instead of the cheap junk from school supply stores. Not the most expensive stuff, of course. But good enough that the children and their parents were always pleasantly surprised by the end result.**

That painting up there-- which was required by the school!-- was made using my own personal watercolor palette, one of my brushes, and a double-wrapped canvas. I just reminded her to wash her brush and dry it off on a paper towel in between colors and left the room. There was no discussion of what she was going to paint or how. That's simply what she did of her own free will.

And, honestly, I don't think my direction could have improved it a single bit.

*

* It was a joy, teaching that girl how to draw a cat and watching her gain confidence. She was a ginger with a fantastic smile. She gave me a drawing of a rhinoceros that I still keep in my studio and repeated my class for a year.

** Note that this doesn't necessarily apply to crafts. I think it's fantastic, giving your kids egg cartons and greeting cards and old buttons and just letting them go to town. I'm talking strictly about fine art-- watercolors, acrylics, colored pencils, pastels, oil pastels.

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in which I keelhaul reality

What do we do when we don't know what to do?

We put on a costume and pretend to be a steampunk pirate!

It's so much easier than coping.

YARR.

The shirt, Vixen corset, and green stagecoach skirt are from Damsel in this Dress. I was so pleased with everything I purchased from her that I've already ordered another corset-- a black and cream damask underbust to wear with my Steampunk Librarian costume.

The plum skirt is from Park Avenue Thrift store-- $4. The boots are Nine West and not period-quality, as they have zippers and pointy little heels. The hat uses a felt wide-brim hat from Target, purchased on sale for $9 and decorated by me.

One day, I'll do a post on its transformation. Today, I'm just showing off.

Notes on steampunk outfits:

1. They are very layer intensive.

2. There are lots of long, dangly laces that have to be tucked in.

3. They are rather heavy.

4. They sincerely depend on cool accessories, of which I don't yet have enough.

5. They are addictive.

6. Corsets really should return to everyday fashion.

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wordles

A list of things that are not words but should be:

weasely, rabbity, badgery, snuck, knelted, squonk, squee, argle bargle, fetchy, adorkable, snarkalicious, cakesy, slurpy, slugtastic, chonk, podingo, moar, LOLLERBALL.

Seriously. They're so extremely self-explanatory.

Also, the word steampunk is a word, so stop it with the red squiggles.

That's all. I'm angry at Justified and going to bed now.

Tomorrow: MOAR EDIT CAVE.

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five minutes of my life

biscuit: Why does the Grinch hate Christmas?

me: I don't know. Maybe Santa ran over his dog once?

biscuit: Or maybe his heart is too small?

me: Yes, I suppose it could be a congenital defect.

biscuit: I think Darth Vader had one of those.

t.rex: Or maybe his bottom is too flat.

me: Maybe his bottom is WHAT?

t.rex: His bottom. It... it kinda flat. And too big. And hairy. It make him sad.

me: But why would that make him hate Christmas?

t.rex: Maybe it itches more at Christmas?

me: *totally straightfaced* Yes, maybe the Grinch hates Christmas because his big, flat, hairy bottom itches too much on December 25th.

t.rex: Or maybe his house fell down?

me: What does that have to do with Christmas?

t.rex: I don't know. Maybe his mom died. Or Spiderman came to put him in jail? Spiderman put the Vulture in jail. Vultures are green. We saw some vultures by the bookstore one time. You wouldn't let me pet them.

me: What... are we talking about?

t.rex: The Grinch. The Grinch, mom. His TV fell down and he knocked the glass down all over the place and--

biscuit: SUPER GIRL TO THE RESCUE! *rides by on her scooter in a nightgown, sunglasses, Mardi Gras beads, and giraffe slippers*

t.rex: *chases her, waving a sword and a gun* SUPER PUSS IN BOOTS G.I. JOE IS THERE! REAL AMERICAN HERO! MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE!

biscuit: Okay, now it's time for the Noisy Horse Tap-Dancer Parade.

me: Wow. Just... wow.

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my magic buns

Last year, I swooned over those razors with the built-in shaving cream.

Because that's totally brilliant, right?

This year, I'm swooning over Spin Pins. If you wear your hair in buns as frequently as I do, they're a lifesaver.

And I made a video to show you how.

Warning: It's very badly done.

You can get 2 for $6 at Target or a package of 3 knock-offs at Hobby Lobby for $1.99.

Totally worth it!

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where art thou?

See that? That's my Writer Hat.

It has a feather quill pen and an ink pot. For all my steampunk writing adventures. In hot air balloons, I hope.

I have this other hat, you see. I bought it at Target, and the plan is to turn it into a pirate's hat through the use of ribbon and string and feathers and pointy things that I have no business using. That's why I found myself in Hobby Lobby today.

And that's where I had one of those tiny epiphanies.

I've been haunting art supply stores all my life. I know which brand of acrylic is better for painting canvas vs. paper and which India ink smells the worst and the only kind of tempera that doesn't crack on windows. I love to run my fingers over paintbrushes-- the expensive ones that I've never been willing to pay for. I love posing the wooden mannequins, looking at rows and rows of pristine pastels, and giving myself tattoos with the rainbow of Sharpies.

In short, I'm an artist.

Except that I'm not anymore.

I saw canvas on sale today and thought, "That's a pretty good price!"

And then I realized that I no longer want to paint. That I don't even think I'm a very good painter. That although I can draw better than most people and have years of training and experience, for the most part, I've left visual art behind to pursue my writing career. I'm a much better writer than I ever was as a painter, and when I find a postcard from one of my shows lying on the floor of the garage under a bed of leaves, I feel a little sheepish. For so long, I thought that I would become a great artist. But it never happened.

Instead, I became a writer.

I now feel about painting the same way I feel about guys I used to date. They were nice. They were great at the time and have much to offer the right person. But for me, it was never meant to be. Each time, I thought OH MY GOSH, THIS IS SO PERFECT. ALL MY DREAMS WILL COME TRUE! And only once did that actually occur, which is why I'll be celebrating my tenth wedding anniversary next May.

Art has become an ex-boyfriend.

I walk into an art supply store or a gallery, and I feel old, wise, smirky, nostalgic. "I've been here," I think. "I used to do this, too. I have been around this block. Good times." And I leave empty-handed and heavy-hearted, knowing that even if I travel that road again, everything will be different. Knowing that, deep down, it was just a stepping stone.

I like to imagine myself at sixty, taking a watercolor class. And the instructor will be someone much younger who will explain the color wheel and transparency and masking, and I'll just smile gently and think, "I know, honey. I know."

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