Hyaline Prosaic

Bootlegger's Ballgown: Fabric and Pattern

2012-01-17T06:17:00.000-08:00

I've been wanting to give a 1920s style dress a shot for a while--it's an era I'm kind of wary of. I think it's the lack of corsetting. Can any historical gown without an elaborate network of corsets and petticoats really work?

I think it can. A friend of mine hosts a Prohibition Party in February (aptly nicknamed the Bootlegger's Ball), and I decided that a new dress would be just the thing (thus, the Bootlegger's Ballgown). The plan--make it in a classic 1920s shape, and also create a self-belt so that I can wear it with some waist definition as a modern cocktail dress, too.

Janet Arnold's Patterns of Fashion II has (along with a bevy of other historical gowns I must needs haves now) a very lovely, very simple, very 1920s evening dress:

The dress as featured is a silk sheath, heavily beaded, with a decorative hem.

And this is the pattern:

Yep, that's it. Incredible how the complicated, pieced, fitted garments of only a decade earlier gave way to....this. Lest you think that the lines on the pattern are some fancy fitting or pleating or pintucking, rest assured--those are just the lines that the beading is done in on the original.

I plan to make the dress in silk charmeuse, with (hopefully) a beaded silk gauze overlay. The beading will be far less extensive than the original. I'm still deciding on the hem--do I want to do an allover uneven hem, or a decorative hem on the overlay and a straight one underneath? Decisions, decisions.

Phase one was getting the fabric ready. I ordered white silk charmeuse and gauze from Dharma Trading Co, and finally, after much debate, settled on a rich, dark royal blue dye.

I think it turned out gloriously. There's just something about dark blue, isn't there? My door kindly offered to model the uncut fabric.

The charmeuse:

And the gauze:

Another gratuitous gauze shot--so filmy and sheer but still holds the rich color so well!

And now to the fun part--hashing out the cutting layout, playing with the overlay, deciding on a beading pattern, and deciding how to handle the hem.

The Two-Day, Two-Yard Turquoise Dress

2012-01-15T19:21:00.000-08:00

Let's be perfectly honest--I am not usually a quick sewer. This is something I want to get better about--starting, working steadily, and finishing a project in a normal amount of time.

Done, and done, friends--I think I broke a record with this dress.

Remember the turqouise dyeing experiment? It left me with just enough cotton voile to eke out a dress. And I mean just enough--it was an exercise in spatial reasoning as I sat on the floor with an assortment of pattern pieces, the fabric, my drafting/cutting board, and a determination to get this worked out. I had barely over two yards total.

It's a bit of a Franken-dress: I used the skirt from one pattern, the bodice (sort of) from another, and then reworked that bodice into a sleeveless style.

To make things more challenging, I had a rule. Because this was an experiment dress on so many levels--experiment fabric, experiment draping, experiments out the wazoo--I wasn't going to let myself use any resources but those I had at hand.

So instead of a zip, it's got a snap closure.

It's not lined--I'll wear it with a slip. (Or, I thought as well, over a tee and leggings for modern wear.)

And no separate facing material either--I literally pulled scraps from the bin to piece (yes, piece) facing for the neckline.

Given all that, it turned out quite nicely, I think! It was fun to have the challenge of "make do or do without"--if this had only been a more exact 30s or 40s style, I could have called it my Depression dress or rationing dress!

I also had fun fitting the dress to the form--though I've used my form for a while now, this is the first time I did most of the fitting to the form itself instead of following a pattern. I felt very accomplished. Especially when it actually fit me, when all was said and done--and fit better than just following a pattern, which is the point, really, of having the dress form to begin with, isn't it?

Now I just have to wait for a summery day to wear this! Too bad it's frigid, windy, snowing, and shows no sign of letting up anytime soon!

What challenges or goals do you have or want to give yourself in your creative endeavors? How do you plan to--or have you--met them?

iDye, YouDye, We all Dye for...ahem.

2012-01-09T17:30:00.001-08:00

I've found myself frustrated of late with finding likeable fabric. I find a fabric with the right fiber content and drape, and the colors are all meh....I find a color I love and it's ratty polyester...I find the perfect fabric and it costs...my firstborn child. And we've all read Rapunzel, kids--those kinds of deals don't end well.

So I decided to venture into dyeing fabrics.

I had some leftover white cotton voile from Dharma Trade Co., and a packet of idye brand dye that I thought I needed for something else, but didn't. So I thought--why not give it a go? There's enough fabric for a lightweight shortgown or jacket, and a light blue would be just the thing.

After perusing the interwebs and learning about different dyeing methods, I decided that the stovetop method looked like the best for getting even-hued results. Here's what you need:

Pictured above:

Large stockpot you don't plan to use for anything else. I found this at the "end of aisle sale" in the grocery store.

Dye. I used idye, available from Dharma Trade Co and other places, too.

Salt. The non-iodized kind. Or, if you were dyeing silk, vinegar. Don't do what I did and realize you only have iodized salt in the pantry and have to make a run to the store on a Saturday afternoon.

Garlic. Kidding. That's just my stash.

Bamboo Skewers. Ok, this is my contribution to the world of dyeing advice. You'll need to stir the pot o' dye, and I didn't want to sacrifice a spoon to the cause. Plus, the thin skewers made maneuvering the fabric and, eventually, lifting it out of the pot, a cinch.

Fabric. Pre-wash--I did this right before so the fabric would already be wet and ready to add to the dye bath.

Follow your dyeing directions! Here's what I learned:

Heat your giant pot, filled most of the way with water. If you're dyeing cotton, you'll need to add salt to the dye bath. I learned that, despite what idye packaging claims, you can't dissolve a cup of salt in "a little" hot water. I would recommend heating water for your salt (I just nuked it) and start mixing to dissolve it separately while the dye dissolves in the dye pot.

When you add the dye, you'll find that a) it looks really purty:

and b) it takes FOREVER to dissolve completely. I had little chunky bits hovering on the surface until I started stirring to create the Tidal Wave of Blue. Then I finally agitated it all outta there.

You'll add the fabric only after the dye is completely dissolved. That, along with nearly constant stirring, is what I thank for the evenness of the color job I ended up with.

Stirring with skewers:

idye has you add the salt (er, saltwater) now. And stir.

Stir some more.

Keep stirring for about a half an hour.

Wheeee.

I forgot to mention that you will also need a cup of tea and some fabulous 30s music. Or your choice of beverage and distraction.

You'll then need to dispose of the dye and launder your fabric. I gently maneuvered the pot to the sink, held the fabric back with the skewers, and poured most of the dye off. I added a little cold water, swished, and poured the rest of the dye off. I then scuttled the pot to the washing machine and lifted the fabric into the machine with the skewers. Easy-peasy. Ish.

After drying:

The only problem? It worked too well. I confess--I had not expected the dye to turn out so vibrantly! Lesson learned! Unfortunately, it's a bit bright for my 18th century wardrobe, so I've parlayed the loss into a gain for my vintage wardrobe: It's becoming a little summer sundress.

"Are you Amish?" and Other Questions Only Reenactors Must Answer

2012-01-07T13:35:00.000-08:00

Once in a while, a reenactor has to enter the real world dressed in period clothing. Sometimes, this happens on purpose--we're going to an event for the day only, so need to show up dressed, and need to stop for gas. Sometimes it's unexpected--you're completely rained out, tear down camp in your 18th century clothes, and retreat to a McDonald's to wring yourself out and change. Sometimes it's just for fun--like the time a group of us walked to a Big Lots to buy sparklers. (You'd think we would have had enough fun with explosives given all the black powder we'd already burned. But no.)

Regardless, you get some funny looks. And sometimes some interesting questions. Clare at Magpie Makes reminded me of this with her recent post on translating a love of 18th century to modern clothing--because sometimes you don't *want* to be accosted on the street with odd looks. Below, a quick primer for how to answer common assumptions:

1) "Are you Amish?" Where I live and reenact, there actually are plenty of Amish communities, so this isn't such an outlandish question. Except for how bright, patterned, and even revealing our clothes are in comparison to the Amish. And the fact that the Amish are conscientious abstainers from military conflict...so the fact that many of the guys are wearing what are pretty clearly military uniforms makes it sort of funny. My personal favorite response: "Yes, but we're a militant sect of Amish bent on bringing the simple life to the rest of you."

2) "North or South?" This may be an appropriate question for Civil War reenactors (though I'm sure you get tired of answering it--and isn't the blue vs. grey thing enough to at least begin to answer that question for many of the gentlemen?). However, for us Revolutionary War folks, I find it sufficient to simply answer, "Yes."

3) "Civil War, right?" Again, a predicament only for those of us not involved in Civil War reenactment. As a Rev War person, I tend to fall back on, "Oh, dear, no, nothing civil about us. In fact, we're revolting."

4) "Are you a pirate?" Thank goodness this has died down a little since the height of popularity of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. Depp, Bloom, Knightley, Bruckheimer--I harbor a slight grudge against all of you, and everyone else involved. Admittedly, sometimes it's not an off comparison. Some of us do look, perhaps, a little pirate-y at times. However, when I was playing with my friends' baby and chatting with her older sister on a blanket, all of us wearing our "lady clothes," all I could muster in response was a blank stare. The fearsome Captain Babypants replied, "Arrrrr."

5) "Are you in a play?" "Well, actually, ah...yes. Yes, I'm in a play." Sometimes it's better just to keep things simple.

In reality, this is usually a great chance to do some free publicity for the event--I take the time to explain who we are and what we're doing and give a quick rundown of the event vitals--when we're open and if admission's charged. I think a few people have ended up coming by because they stopped to ask!

"Are Reenactors Really That Mean?"

2012-01-06T05:15:00.000-08:00

Recently, one of my favorite costuming bloggers, American Duchess, began plans for participating in a Revolutionary War event in Williamsburg. One issue that came up as she planned were the authenticity standards of historical reenactors.

Her fear, confirmed by individuals such as the illustrious Hallie Larkin, was that reenactors would be likely to criticize any inaccuracy in her clothing.

The response from many comments was "WOW! And this is why I don't want to get involved with reenactors."

I'll tell you what, it made me cringe.

I'm a reenactor. I'm a member of an organization that has relatively strict authenticity standards. We undergo inspections to make sure our stuff is right and that we're documenting everything.

But are we stitch-counting authenticity police?

No, most of us are not.

I felt the need to respond to the conversation in more detail because I feel that a few individuals create a false reputation for our hobby as a mean, hostile place filled with jerks who like nothing better than pointing out perceived problems with your outfit. Now, to be fair--there are a few jerks out there. But there jerks everywhere--have you ever been involved in any hobby for any length of time and not encountered at least one blowhard who thought s/he knew all there was to know and found great joy in correcting others? Me either. (Let me tell you, swing dance is way worse than reenacting for know-it-alls.)

To be fair, as well, there is a difference between creating reenacting clothing and historical costuming in many cases. Many costumers take inspiration from the past without feeling the need to create a dedicated reproduction of it. Reenactors document everything they make or buy (or ought to). An example--a costumer and a reenactor may want to create, say, a ladies' jacket. The costumer broswes images and extants and designs a garment. Perhaps she wants it to button as a closure, but can't find documenation for buttoned jackets like hers--she may go ahead with her plan as it still captures the spirit of the period she's stitching. A reenactor, on the other hand, is much less creatively minded about the process, and will find particular garment/s to copy. She won't use those buttons if she can't find documentation for their use.

So are the streets of a reenactment filled with people waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting newb? Definitely not. In all my time in the Midwest and somewhat more limited time on the East Coast, I've never been corrected in such a fashion. And my costuming has not always been perfect. I've heard comments made perhaps a few times, which given I've been doing this for over 20 years is not very often. A couple of them were rude and uncalled for, and I *may* have responded under my breath to one individual's "They didn't have that kind of blanket then" with "They didn't have slag-faced loudmouth b!tches, either." If it happens, sure, it raises your hackles. But it's very unusual and most reenactors consider it very, very rude to barge up to someone and correct them.

Perhaps even more important, overwhelmingly, new people are welcomed and encouraged. If you're trying the hobby out, and find yourself with a group of people who are not encouraging or are rude, you're in the wrong group of people. I have to take serious issue with Hallie's assertion that "reenactors, especially in groups, can be critical, cruel and downright unkind." I don't doubt that she's speaking from experience, but: The vast majority of reenactors I know are the nicest people I've ever met. They want to help new people. They want to spread knowledge and understanding of the time period. They want to do it kindly. I kid you not--some of the best-put-together reenactors I know and I have had conversations about how to most kindly touch base with new people (and not-so-new people) in our group about serious inaccuracies because the clothing experts were worried sick about hurting feelings. These were problems that needed to be addressed in that "Hi, Sue--you have spinach in your teeth" kind of way. Because we don't want to hurt any feelings or drive anyone away. Again, if the group you encounter is cruel--they're bad apples. Period. Get away from them and find nice people.

I'll add as well that not every reenactor is a clothing expert. We all know enough about *our* clothing to get by, but many people have other interests--perhaps military drill, perhaps carpentry, perhaps authentic cookery, perhaps medicine. So don't feel that you have to be a clothing expert if your interest is elsewhere. Know enough to get by and seek the assistance of those who are into clothes.

The one thing that will sink you, in my experience, with reenactors? Being a know-it-all yourself. There are newbies, there are experienced reenactors, there are experts in particular fields, but nobody knows everything. This is why it's such a terrible idea to correct someone else--for all you know, his persona is a recently arrived Italian immigrant and you have absolutely no idea if his clothing is right because *you* know nothing about Italian clothing! Talk to people. Learn from them. Know that not everyone is right about what they say, but keep an open mind.

In the end, reenacting is a community. I happen to love being a part of it. And I want to welcome anyone who wants to try it out.

1940s Halter Cocktail Dress: Skirt and Final Construction

2011-12-30T08:03:00.000-08:00

Remember way back when, I started posting about a dress I was making? Yeah, me either.

In fact, I finished the dress weeks ago, and wore it to a party, and already made some adjustments to it. But with the holiday rush, I didn't show you the wrap-up!

To recall--this is a 1940s halter dress, made of silk charmeuse, from Butterick pattern #5209.

The biggest change I made to the pattern was to assemble the skirt differently. The original pattern calls for a gathered skirt, which I didn't have great confidence in. Oh, it would be easy enough, of course--but there's also the potential for belly-pooch-poofing--which, I tell you, can strike with a gathered skirt with or without a real belly pooch.

So I pleated the skirt instead. Big, simple, dare I say nearly architectural box pleats.

I worked the pleat placement on the dress form, and pinned the individual pleats and pinned the skirt to the bodice. I then stitched down each pleat by hand, and then sewed the skirt in place between the bodice layers.

All this pleating, fussing, and working over the same spots time and again was made much easier by the little step I took first thing--zig-zag stitching the edges in a sort of faux-serging finish technique. No fraying. And no need for hemming the interior of the bodice lining, either.

In its not quite finished glory, pinned and unpressed:

Of course I failed to get a picture of it complete, with me actually in it. Instead, Sophie Biscuit in a Christmas tree.

Pretty Things I Want to Make in 2012

2011-12-29T05:58:00.000-08:00

I confess. I'm a project scatterbrain. Or perhaps a sewing magpie. You see, I have a million projects on my wish list, and whenever I see something pretty and shiny and special, I add it to the growing tally of Pretty Things I Want to Make.

The New Year gives me a chance to focus a bit. Not that I won't meander off the first time I spot something enchanting, but at least I can start the year with bit of focus.

Without further ado, my wish list of projects for the coming year!

1) Regency ensemble. I started last year with the intention of pulling this together for an event, and then my plans changed and the project fell by the wayside. No more--I have a potential event in March and plan to drop in on the Jane Austen festival in July. Plus I have pattern, fabric, and other sundries just sitting in the sewing room, waiting for me to get back to them. Sorry, pretty pale blue linen--I've ignored you too long. The gist of the gown I plan to make at right--bib-front with oddly droopy sleeves that I plan to rework. I also *hope* I can pull off Regency stays in time for the event, too--in my ideal world, one makes underthings first, clothes second to ensure accuracy and proper fit!

2) I really don't *need* it. But I *wants* it. A 1910s era gown. I don't know if it's Downton Abbey fever, the Titanic anniversary, my own personal weird interest in WWI, or what, but the zeitgeist has spoken, and it's swept me along with it. I'm unsure as of yet if I'll make this as a strict reproduction or use 1910s as an inspiration for a modern formal gown. I don't really have an event for 1910s...perhaps I shall have to create one? Anyone want to come over for a 1910s dinner party? (*crickets*) Regardless--it's something about the square neck, the column silhouette, and the sumptuous layers. This pattern (left) from Promenade captures pretty much what I'm after.

3) This may be a full-blown project, or it may be a vintage-shopping/modifying adventure, but I have a Prohibition-era party to attend in February. I would love to create a simple but fun 1920s dress. Alas, 1920s is not at all my research forte, so I wouldn't have a clue where to start on my own...and haven't found a pattern yet for a dress I would like.

4) More 1930s-1950s era repros. I would love to get a more varied wardrobe of wearable "new vintage"--skirts and blouses I can wear to work, dresses for church, that kind of thing. Too much of what I have veers too close to costume. So this is that open, magpie-friendly category--I sees what I likes, I makes it. The pattern at right, from Butterick Retro, is in my "bought it for a dollar" bin of maybes at home--I might give it a whirl.

5) As I said in point the first, I like to think of costuming in terms of underthings first, outer clothing second. In that spirit, knowing I want to create a late Victorian ensemble at some point in the undefined future, I'd like to try my hand at a 19th century corset. This may be an experimental work in progress--or it may surprise me, like the 1780s first-round stays did, and turn out eminently wearable! This isn't a priority, but corsetry fever may strike me...perhaps in the lazy summer months.

6) And of course, projects as they come along! I may find I've worn out an eighteenth century piece, and need a replacement, or a friend might ask for something for reenacting purposes. I have the green linen stays half-finished, for instance--I plan to have them done early in January. Then...who knows what else 2012 will bring?

Do you have any big creative plans for 2012? Projects that have been sitting on the back burner? New creations just waiting to come out and play?

2011 Sewing Roundup

2011-12-28T07:42:00.000-08:00

This year was a good one for me, sewing-wise--each project taught me something new, and really expanded my understanding and abilities. I can't wait to launch into another year of historical sewing and learning and general geeking out, but before I do, the year in review.

First up, the Procrastination Project. The short cloak should have been done in 2010--I had the fabric and everything I needed. But. Somehow it didn't happen until fall 2011. No worries. I learned more about pattern drafting, and used a gridded, scaled pattern by itself for the first time.

Next, a 1770s jacket and petticoat ensemble for my mother, made of the most cheerful block print in the world. Happy, happy, pink, pink. I played a bit with historical construction methods, and am totally sold on what I learned.

The easy one--a quick and simple 1940s cocktail dress. Not sure I really learned anything here--but I did refine my dart-making techniques :)

Perhaps my favorite project of the year, and the one that stretched me the furthest--1780s stays. I started these unsure that I could make corsetry work for me--and I did! This whole project was a learning process, so I can pretty much safely say everything I did on this piece was learning something new! Now in the midst of a second pair, and loving it more the second time around!

Not quite a sewing project, but the new wig rounded out the tweaking and refining of my best 18th century ensemble. The details really do make the outfit, so I've learned--and proper hair is the best accessory. And, wigmaking (er, styling, since I used a pre-made wig) isn't quite as scary as I'd feared!

Lastly, the 1880s-inspired modern Sapphire Gown. I enjoy modern dressmaking even more now that I have a better foundation in historical methods--it gives you tricks and hints when the modern method doesn't quite cut it, and opens a whole world of inspiration! I learned how to create a boned foundation piece--a technique I have a feeling I'll be repeating very often!

And one final project, complete but not up on the blog yet--a second 1940s cocktail dress. Skirt construction and final product posts are forthcoming, but she makes it onto the 2011 list since she came out to play for my 2011 Christmas Cocktail Party!

What's your favorite project of 2011? And--looking forward--what to get started on in 2012?

Holiday Films for the Vintage Enthusiast

2011-12-27T07:34:00.000-08:00

I have a pet peeve. It's when, on December 26, people decide Christmas is over and start taking down the decorations and packing up the holiday cheer until next year. To me, the season is twelve days long--and we're only at the very beginning! To celebrate, some of my favorite old holiday movies that you may not have seen 500 times already.

If you like White Christmas, you'll love Holiday Inn. If you can ignore the blatantly racist blackface number. Some film channels cut it, for obvious reasons, but here's the thing--it's actually somewhat integral to the plot to know that the number is in blackface, and I've contended that since Bing's black housekeeper sings in the number, the producers probably thought they were being progressive. Muscle through it, call it a history lesson, and be glad that we've learned a few things since 1942.

In all seriousness, it's a charming film about a hairbrained business scheme--an inn and nightclub that's only open on holidays. Between Bing's chocolate-smooth singing voice and Fred Astaire cutting a rug (and providing one of the best-choreographed inebriated scenes in film), it's pure Golden Age entertainment from the first frame to the last. Watch for the straight-up WWII propaganda midfilm.

You know what's fun at Christmas? Nuns, that's what. The Bells of Saint Mary's was released as a Christmas film. I don't know if Come to the Stable was or not, but the live nativity scene opener would indicate so. Regardless. Nuns having fun. Enjoy.

OK, here's one I thought I'd never see. Yes, Santa and Satan, together at last.

It's a truly horrible low-budget production from late 1950s Mexico, entitled Santa Claus. Why does it make my list? Because it's hilarious. The gist--Santa's magical child labor-fueled sweatshop (not kidding) gears up for Christmas, but Satan has other plans--sending his best minion Pitch to Earth to turn children away from the jolly old elf and to a life of paltry crime. Christmas Eve is a battle from the moment Santa winds up the mechanical reindeer (still not kidding) to the moment he drugs some parents in a restaurant with his "Cocktail of Remembrance" (also not kidding, and sounds like something that's illegal in 67 countries) to the climax where has to call on (no, still not kidding) his buddy Merlin for help. For extra hilarity, cue up the Mystery Science Theater 3000 take on the film.

I was wondering while watching the 1938 version of A Christmas Carol if Dickens' holiday tale might just be the most oft-recreated story in film and on stage. Anyone know?

I recommend the 1938 version for two reasons. First, it's short. At an hour and a half, it gets the whole story out without spinning its wheels (much like Dickens' original novella). Second, it spend more time on Fred, who's a larger character in the book than most films portray, and in doing so, creates a much more cohesive storyline with an element of emotional family drama that's usually missing.

Oh, and a third reason. This particular Tiny Tim is less obnoxious than most. Seriously, Tiny Tim is usually so saccharine-sentimental that I'm rooting for him to bite it and leave that empty stool in the corner.

Costume aficionados--no, I also can't tell when this version is supposed to be taking place. Vaguely 1820s, perhaps?

So leave the holly out a few more days, and curl up with a new old movie!

A Happy Christmas to You All!

2011-12-19T06:06:00.000-08:00

A Happy Christmas to All!

I will be away for the next week or so with holiday travels. Carry on without me, blogosphere! May your holidays be filled with comfort and joy, and may the New Year bring peace and bright shiny opportunities!

A Happy Christmas

2011-12-08T07:01:00.000-08:00

I have a finished 1940s dress to show you.

I have writing news and thoughts in the hopper.

I have holiday recipes I could totally share...if you like mincemeat.

But instead, all I've got is a Sophie Biscuit photo.

Five minutes after getting the tree up, she was in it. She was incredibly well-behaved, given the fact that she was a small kitten in a tree and could have wreaked havoc: no broken ornaments or chewed wires. However, she's been banned from the great room until the tree comes down after Twelfth Night.

And to all a good night.

An Eighteenth Century Christmas

2011-12-05T15:53:00.000-08:00

An eighteenth-century Christmas party isn't so different from a modern one.

Sometimes it's BYOB.

And there's always way too much food.

After dinner you might get down with your bad self to some of the latest music.

I don't know about you, but I always try to wear my best clothes to a happening party.

And my best hair.

At even the nicest parties, someone inevitably says something to cause someone else deep offense, and you end up having a duel in the front yard.

But in the end, no one ends up too horribly gored, and you make some new friends.

Need I say that I had a thoroughly enchanting weekend?

(Thanks, friends of ye olde Facebook from whom I swiped photos!)

Wanted: Camp Follower or Pack Horse

2011-12-01T17:30:00.000-08:00

Women following the 18th century army did a lot of odd jobs. Laundry, mending, nursing. Gathering firewood, cooking, hauling water. I haven't come across this job before, though:

In a very common 18th century print trope, a dog appears in the foreground. Seriously--check out any selection of 18th century prints or political cartoons. At least half will feature a dog. Half of the dogs will be piddling. Some art historians suggests that the piddling dog serves as a commentary on the scene depicted--that it's meant to be taken satirically or derisively, because of the piddling pup. I'm not sure that's always the case, but this dog's actions definitely seem to be a commentary on the scene! Mother dog hauling puppy, hearty camp follower hauling officer.

Come across anything that's made you laugh today?

A Very Honest Writing Update

2011-11-30T07:05:00.000-08:00

A note: I'm bad at being honest. I don't mean that I'm a compulsive liar or anything--I just like to be positive and put-together and presentable--and sometimes being honest tears down the perfection facade a little. Or a lot. So bear with me on my attempt at frankness...

I need to be honest for a minute about writing. You'll notice it's been absent from discussion here for a while. It's not an accident. I decided, instead of "NaNoWriMo" I would do "NoWriteNovember" (I made that up) and take a step back to evaluate where I am and what I'm doing.

I figured it out.

I've been running scared when it comes to writing lately.

I'm still in the midst of querying, still have a couple fulls out. But the longer that goes, the more my stamina starts to wane. I'll admit that. I'll also admit that I see the prospects drying up the longer a full stays out, or the longer my "rejected" list on the agent database gets. There's some pragmatism there as well as emotional reaction--the options narrow. The more "no"s you get, the fewer chances at a "yes."

So I start to think about what to do next.

I don't mean what to do next in terms of writing--after enforcing a strict "NoWriteNovember" to see how I do without writing, I know it's part of what makes me happy. I'm just not sure if the rat race of publication makes me happy. Well, I know it doesn't in this stage--the unpublished stage. And I think I know why.

I'm an overachiever.

I always have been. I can't do partway, I can't try and fail, I have to succeed. And writing is a business in which success and effort, success and talent, success and perseverance do not necessarily go hand in hand. No doubt they're correlated--talented, diligent, hardworking people succeed more often than lazybones who write sludge. But--no guarantees.

And as an overachiever, I'm a control freak.

I can't control this. Not all the way. I can do the absolute best I can. I can edit and polish and hone. I can be type-A fantastic on my query process and uber-professional and do everything "right" but in the end--it's out of my control. Agents can hate my book. Agents can LOVE my book but feel they can't sell it. Agents can love my book, sign my book, and still be unable to sell it.

What does this come down to? The uncertainty of success in traditional publishing is at odds with one thing above all others with me--my pride. I can't stomach the idea of "failing" at something I think I'm good at. And I define success at ever-increasing increments with less and less that I can control.

Whew--it felt good to say that. To admit that this is MY problem--my pride.

So now that I've confronted all of that, I come back to the question--does writing for publication make me happy?

I think about the alternative--writing with no intention to publish. I do that, too, you know--I write embarrassingly bad poetry just for the joy of stringing words together like so many jewel-colored beads (see why the poetry is bad?). But novels? Novels are meant to be shared. Like pie. Or a layer cake. They're too big to make and keep for yourself without inducing stomachache or tooth decay.

And then I found something I wrote down ages ago, when I first started writing my first novel.

I want to write someone's favorite book.

Just one person. That was my goal--write a book that one person would say, even for just a while, "This is one of my favorite books."

Wow.

Puts the whole thing in perspective.

Next steps? I have no idea--the thought of publishing independently is creeping up for me more and more. I'm weaning myself away from the idea that self-publishing is "giving up"--it's not surrender to take a different road that will gain your goal. At the same time, I fear permanent, unalterable choices--and taking the self-publishing road means making a permanent mark on a potential career, for good or for bad.

So for now I'll be thinking. And writing again, now that NoWriteNovember is over beginning tomorrow.

And that feels good.

OK, now to actually clicking the "Publish Post" button and take all this honesty live....why is that the hardest part? :P

1940s Halter Cocktail Dress: Bodice

2011-11-29T07:01:00.000-08:00

The only good thing about nasty, cold, rainy days? There's nothing better than staying home with a cup of Earl Grey and a sewing project.

Which means I'm nearly done with the 1940s Halter Cocktail dress! The skirt is pieced and I'm fiddling with it, then there's zipper and hemming (never my favorite part). The dress bodice, however, is finished as of last night.

I love the shape--the wider shoulders and nipped waist are so quintessentially 40s!

I made a couple slight changes to Butterick's directions (this is Butterick 5209) First, the instructions tell you to stitch the two top bodice pieces together up to a certain point. I left the two pieces separate, and will fit this part on myself. Finished pictures showed me that this was a finicky point--how high to join the front seemed like it would be better accomplished on real, live me.

Second, and more fun: I did a lapped-ish seam to join the waistband portion to the top of the bodice. I learned this technique on the Peacock 1930s dress, and it seemed particularly appropriate here--I thought about the gathered bustline and a traditional "right sides facing" seam and thought that the potential for Holy Bunching Batman was pretty high, so took a different route.

It's easy enough, and gives you better control, and lets you seam and topstitch at the same time. Which is kind of scary, but if you go slow you get a nice result.

Egads--the ugly innards of a dress:

This week--finish the skirt and put the finishing touches on! I have some sneaky changes to Butterick on the skirt front, too (*rubs hands together and plots...yessss...plotting*)

I'm curious--when you're working on a project--sewing from a pattern, recipe, or anything else with instructions--do you follow to the letter, discard the directions, or a little of both?

Short Cloak

2011-11-28T05:57:00.000-08:00

I finished this short cloak all the way back in October, but failed to take pictures until about a week ago. With two events between finishing the cloak and the end of the season, I assumed I'd get pictures in action at a reenactment--well, go ahead and cue the laughter, since I never manage to get the camera out at events!

So Felicity agreed to model for me, instead:

The pattern is from Costume Close-Up--there's a full-length cloak in the book that I drafted a pattern from. Of course, it was cropped, but the basic shape and construction are the same.

I chose to do a short cloak, by the way, rather than a full-length one for practicality's sake. First, much of our event season is chilly but not cold--April through October means that though there are a few 40 and 30 degree days, it's mostly not frigid. Even more important, I can wear the short cloak and work in camp unencumbered. The full length cloak is pretty much good for sitting and shivering, not for hauling wood or stoking the fire.

The view from the back:

A slightly off-kilter but representative example of the classic "fan" pleats on the cloak hood. Thicker fabrics show this style off even better than the soft drape of this lighter weight wool.

The full layout. You can see that the center is cut from one piece and the two side panels are pieced. Plus I love how this looks laid out:

Detail of the pieced sides:

I did a mixture of hand and machine sewing on this project--mostly hand, but the side seams were machine stitched and then stitched down by hand. The hood construction was all by hand, as was...

The finish work. I finished the edges with matching blue silk ribbon. My dream of trimming with fur will have to wait until I find a vintage piece bedraggled enough to re-purpose, or perhaps be saved for another project--I like how pretty this simple trim is.

And my favorite detail! The seam that joins the hood to the cloak body is covered in the same silk ribbon.

Overall, a very simple project to take from drafting the pattern through completion--the hardest part was finding ribbon I liked! And it's incredible how warm even a thin cloak is, especially with the hood up. Despite temperatures in the 30s a couple times this fall, the cloak and a nice fire kept me toasty!

1940s Halter Cocktail Dress--Fabric and Pattern

2011-11-22T06:44:00.000-08:00

As if working on another pair of stays wasn't enough, I decided I want a new dress. Before Christmas. Because I'm capricious like that.

I've had this Butterick pattern (Butterick 5209) for some time, and decided I wanted to pull it out and make something kicky for my annual Christmas cocktail party.

I'm going to make View A, the halter dress; I plan at some point to make the more work-appropriate rendition, View B, if View A goes well.

And fabric. This particular choice may look familiar--it's the same as the Peacock 1930s gown. I love the color, and wanted to use charmeuse for this dress, and figured what the heck--I can't wear an evening gown that often, and this fabric is too pretty to relegate to the closet.

Fortunately, I was still able to get a few more yards from the ebay store I frequent (haunt) for silk charmeuse.

It's called Dark Slate Grey--I don't see anything slate or grey about it, but I love it just the same.

So, funny Sophie Biscuit the Kitten story--last night I was cutting the dress out, watching Mad Men, sipping some peppermint tea. The Biscuit decided that attacking the fabric was pretty much the best thing ever. Which, with onion-skin paper and delicate charmeuse and tiny kitten claws involved, was not the best thing ever from my perspective. So I shut her up in the kitchen to cut in peace. A few minutes later I heard a pitiful mewling...and discovered that Sophie had tried so hard to get back into the living room that she'd gotten her head caught under the door!

I fended off kitten attacks the rest of the evening.

What pre-holiday projects do you have in the hopper?

Round Two: 18th C. Stays

2011-11-19T13:36:00.000-08:00

I'd barely finished my first set of 18th century stays when I decided to launch into another pair--this time, for a friend of mine who's been using hand-me-down stays and could really use a pair that fit properly.

Lucky for both of us, I still had plenty of canvas-weight for the innards, and some lovely olive green linen lurking in my fabric stocks.

This time around, I'm giving cable ties a shot for the boning. I used metal last time, and though the end result was fine, they were a pain--remember the "wrong size ordering debacle?" Yeah, I didn't feel like repeating that. I've heard only good things about cable ties for use in 18th century stays, so thought this would be a less expensive and less finicky material to try.

I also decided to be more authentic in my assembly methods this time--for my stays, I pieced the whole thing together and then did the channels and boning. Since I was a complete rhubarb at this, I really wanted to get the basic shape together first, in case I was totally off. Now that I'm more confident, I can do a better job of authentic construction--which will hopefully yeild an improved pair of stays.

Here's each peice cut and all three layers--two of canvas and one outer--pinned together and laid next to each other to show the shape. The lining will be assembled and tacked in separately.

So, once cutting was done, I marked out the boning channels (yep, with pen, because I'm sloppy that way) and started stitching!

...and stitching...

Fortunately, I had Sophie Biscuit to help.

She quickly determined that stuffed mice are more exciting than stays.

Still to come: all the boning, assembly, and finish work.

Also on the docket--another 1940s cocktail dress, hopefully in time for our annual Christmas Cocktails in December! Fabric ordered and pattern cut!

Tackling a Pumpkin for Homemade Pie (and Pumpkin Seeds)

2011-11-16T06:23:00.000-08:00

With Thanksgiving next week, I've got pumpkin on the brain. I love pumpkin--pies, breads, muffins, that over-sweet but delightful latte drink. (I once had a roommate who worked at Starbucks and was lucky enough to be there when the Pumpkin Spice syrup "expired" so got to bring it home and we feasted on Pumpkin Spice coffees for months...happy memories.)

A few weeks ago I decided to give making my own pumpkin puree for baking a try. There are several methods for this--I found baking the pumpkin to be fairly simple.

First--your pumpkin. Buy a pie pumpkin--though you can use the innards of your jack-o-lantern pumpkin (erm, before it sits on your porch for a month...) the tougher, stringier consistency will yield a less-tasty pie. And the extra water in this kind of pumpkin means you'll have to adjust the recipe for your baked goods.

Plus, isn't it cute?

Now that we've admired how cute it is, attack it with a large knife.

I cut the top off first, then set the pumpkin upright on the flat surface and cut the pumpkin in half.

Yicky insides--scoop 'em out.

You'll end up with a clean shell of pumpkin meat and skin, a pile of trashable junk, and a bowl of pumpkin seeds. Save those.

Arrange your pumpkin in baking dishes, open sides down, and then tent with foil. Bake for about 45 minutes to an hour in a 350 degree oven. When the pumpkin is soft and the skin is sorta puckery, it's done!

Let the pumpkin cool a bit. If you're lucky, the skin will lift or peel right off. Otherwise, scoop the pumpkin out. Mash it up. Use it as you like. Leave the oven on for...

...those pumpkin seeds. Wash them thoroughly (this takes much longer than I expected--sticky little boogers!) and then toss with some oil, spice according to your tastes, and bake for about 20 minutes, or until toasty and golden.

My spicy-savory spice blend for seeds:

Toss with Olive Oil and

Cumin
Cayenne
Chili Powder
Red Pepper Flakes
Salt
Dash Nutmeg

Happy Thanksgiving Cooking! What's your favorite Thanksgiving recipe?

Feeling More Balanced: Fixing a Tipping-Prone Dress Form

2011-11-14T06:28:00.000-08:00

Felicity, my fabulous find of a dress form, had one eensy problem that I needed to address. She tended to fall over. A lot. Sometimes on me. The issue was caused by the incredibly weenie feet on her stand, and the fact that a couple slats were actually missing. Simple arithmetic: weenie slats - some weenie slats = serious lack of stability.

What to do? Well, I found the answer in a delightfully cluttered antique shop. It's festive. It's fun. It's an aluminum and steel Christmas tree stand, probably for a fake tree, probably from that era that they were still making fake Christmas trees at the toilet brush company. (The fact that the first artificial Christmas trees were produced by, yes, a toilet brush company makes me laugh and also refuse to buy an artificial tree.)

Easy-peasy project--I hot glued felt circles to the bottom of the stand, and then screwed Felicity into place. I actually think the new stand is quite pretty, and doesn't look terribly patched-together, either:

She's still somewhat adjustable--it's a bit trickier now, but I preferred difficulty adjusting the form to the form falling over on me while I draped.

Of course, now that she's new and improved, I'm working on another set of stays and don't need her right away. Perhaps I need to whip up a Christmas cocktail dress in the spirit of the new stand?

Taming the Monster: My First 18th Century Wig

2011-11-12T08:06:00.000-08:00

There's been something a bit...flat about my 18th century ensemble.

It's my hair.

It isn't that I don't have enough hair to pull off 18th century height of hair--I do. I just don't have enough hands. Plus, when camping, it's not very easy to tease and train your hair into something 18th century fabulous. So I usually just go with a simple bun and a cap over it. Which, for the Forlorn Camp Follower look, is ideal. For something a bit nicer, however--for Officer's Wife Steps Out or Christmas Ball--it's a bit...flat.

So I decided to foray into wigmaking.

Step One? Research and inspiration.

Despite the inherent coolness of powdered court styles, I'm not really a powdered court hair kind of girl. I'm a colony girl, a country gentry sort of girl. Giant white (or, well grey) wig wasn't going to do it.

Plus the idea of blending my dark brunette hair into a grey powdered wig made me itch.

So when I found this portrait by Gainsborough of the Linley Sisters, I knew I had a winner.

I actually squeed a little over Mary's hair--she's the seated one. It's still 18th century voluminous, but tasteful. And quite nearly natural. (And aren't the two ladies just gorgeous?!?)

Step Two? Procure supplies.

This was the point at which my inner cheapskate emerged. I refuse to spend much on a first attempt wig--I know this won't be perfect, and really want something for an experiment more than anything else.

I found this at a post-Halloween 50% off sale. It's a monster. No, really, I think it's actually alive:

Egads. That's a LOT of fake hair. Felicity was a little weirded out helping me out by propping it up. The one thing I'll give it--it has some nice color variation, which helps it look a touch less fakey. But it's still pretty shiny.

And, of course, supplies to corral the Monster Wig. Secret weapons:

That's a large can of aerosol hairspray, bobby pins, scissors, and a needle and thread to match the hair.

Step Three? Go to town and get creative.

I started by untangling the whole thing a bit and shaking it out. I then created a rat at the crown of the wig. I would normally advocate teasing and pinning to create a rat, or even adding some extra hair. There was so much darn hair in this wig--and it was honestly such a snarled mess--that that was neither needed nor really possible. So I wadded it up and pinned and then, eventually, stitched it down.

I then sectioned the fronts and sides and pinned them back into the rat. This ended up with a nice swoop from the forehead and sides, and then I just twisted and pinned until most of the hair was up. Again, I would have loved to have gotten more creative than this. But--Mary Linley's hair wasn't elaborately coiffed. And the Monster Wig was already receiving some fun visits from the scissors, snipping serious snarls out. This was going to be a simplistic attempt.

My basic method was to arrange the hair, pin it to my liking, hit it with the hairspray, let it set a bit, and then stitch it into place. I'm sure a better wigmaker than I could probably work with pins alone, creating a wig with more future flexibility, but I saw pretty quickly that between my amateur abilities and the insanity of the Monster Wig, that was not going to happen. The fanciest I was going to get was a little pigtail at the base, like Mary Linley had.

I ended up with something a little like this:

Now, this is when I discovered something else about the Monster Wig that I was initially frustrated by but came to adore. It doesn't quite fit my head. And I do not have a large head. Perhaps the band at the edge is too wimpy, or I'm bundling too much of my own hair underneath, but it's too small to stay securely on my head. However, when I came to trying it on, I found that securing it a bit behind my hairline and keeping quite a bit of my own hair out to sweep over the top produced a more natural--and quite fetching--look.

To make this happen, I stitched two combs to the front edge of the wig. Once they're slid securely into my hair, they Do.Not.Budge.

For a first attempt, I'm quite pleased at how it turned out! I plan to purchase a slightly higher-quality base (no offense meant, Monster Wig) to create a second, more structured wig.

The view from the front--see, I'm wearing my Armistice Poppy!

And from the side:

Still ahead, experiment-wise: I need to work on blending the shininess of the wig out a bit. Another coat of hairspray helped, and I'm going to give a bit of powder a shot, too. Also, a wee bow for the bit of pigtail.

A Poppy for Armistice Day: A How-To

2011-11-10T15:50:00.000-08:00

Yes, November 11 is now known in the United States as Veterans Day, and well it may be, to thank the many men and women who serve and have served in our armed forces. Yet once (and in other places in the world) the day is known as Armistice Day, for the treaty that, at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, ended the war that was meant to end all wars.

It didn't quite work out that way.

But I still like to think of November 11 as Armistice Day, to remember, in a bittersweet kind of way, that once we believed for a brief moment we had conquered war.

Following WWI it was traditional (and again, still is in other parts of the world) to wear a red poppy for Armistice Day, in reference to the poem In Flander's Fields. I like to continue the tradition (even though, technically, poppies in the US are for Memorial Day, as they honor those who died in service to their country, not those currently serving, as Veterans Day is intended to do).

I used a tutorial from my blog friend Isis to create a felt flower this year--not quite a poppy in form, but the red and the petals reference the flower. The full tutorial is on Isis' blog, and I'll show you my steps below. (thanks, Isis!)

It's easy--and inexpensive. All you need are felt scraps (heavy wool would work, too), needle and thread, paper and scissors, and a bead or scrap for the center bit.

You'll want to cut a paper pattern first, unless you've very steady hands, to make all the felt pieces the same shape.

Yep, my felt and my thread don't match. No worries--the stitches won't show.

Then, stitch the petals together. I pinched each petal at the base and took a stitch through it, to form the puckered inner part of the petals, then attached it to the next petal.

I then stitched around the center a few times, and once around the middle portion of the flower, where I wanted the petals to overlap.

Ok, it shows on the back. But you won't see that bit once it's on.

Finally, I added a pearl bead to the center. I wish I'd had a black bead on hand as that would look more poppy-ish.

Tomorrow I'll wear this pinned to my jacket, and happily share my gratitude to those who serve as the hope that someday their service will no longer be needed. Do consider joining me!

And thank you to those who have and those who continue to serve.

Egads!

2011-11-09T06:47:00.001-08:00

Has it truly been two weeks since I posted? I have excuses. For realsies. First, the last event of the season, at The Happiest Place on Earth. I was too busy to take photos, which was a shame, given the thick frosts turning the grounds silver in the mornings and the busy tumble of colors and activities that filled the Market Fair and battlefield each day. Fortunately, better photographers than I captured some of the choicer moments:

http://graphicenterprises.net/html/locust_grove.html

Also, a fun video. I'm a touch miffed that they showed all the cannons but ours. I think it's because we yelled at the camera guy to move back. We didn't want to accidentally blow him up. (Kidding about being miffed.)

http://www.wlky.com/r-video/29637187/detail.html

And the most fun part? I came down with the world's nastiest cold over the weekend. By fun I mean not fun at all, unless you count an excuse to sip Scotch in an attempt to eradicate a sore throat of epic proportions "fun." Which I almost do.

After pushing myself through the weekend determined to enjoy every last minute consarnit, I was pretty much a miserable blob for about a week. I did nothing. I stared at the television and did more nothing. I'm better now.

But THEN, as though all this fun wasn't enough to keep me from the computer, I got a little surprise. Her name is Sophie Biscuit and she's a seven week old kitten. She's been purring a lot, so I've been kind of distracted.

Back to regularly scheduled programming and pictures of Sophie kitten soon.

Busy Fall Things

2011-10-27T08:25:00.000-07:00

Stuff I did this week that will someday be posted here for your enjoyment:

1) Pumpkin pie from scratch. Not as hard as feared. As yet untasted.

2) Finished the short cloak--as in, finished the edges. With fancy-schmancy matching silk ribbon. Hours of hand-sewing to Mad Men on Netflix, folks. (Sidenote: Is it coincidence or subconciously driven Mad Men aesthetics that have made me wear skirts and dresses almost every day the last couple weeks?)

3) Fixed Felicity's balance problem. My dress form was missing a couple slats on her stand--and she fell over a lot. Sometimes on me. Crafty solution achieved.

4) Solved my "no light to sew by in the living room" problem (making #2 possible without loss of eyesight).

5) Prepped for this weekend--the last event of the season. Kentuckians, take note.

6) Considering that my 300th post passed without notice and thinking about a little virtual shindig for the 350th. Thoughts? Would ya'll like a contest, a giveaway, a linkey-do-celebration?

Friday Funnies, Historical-Style: Jack's Prize

2011-10-21T08:02:00.000-07:00

I think I've mentioned before my mild obsession with the Lewis Walpole library, a collection of historical prints, mainly cartoons and humorous reproductions. If you're researching ordinary-people clothing, as I am wont to do, these kinds of pictorial primary sources are invaluable. One of the common complaints of reproducing lower or middling class clothing is the lack of pictorial sources aside from portraits. Complain no longer. Go browse.

For your amusement today, a pair of prints. Taken at face value, they may seem innocent (and the ladies' clothes are lovely. I heart the gigantic hats!).

But read the captions.

Jack on a Cruise: Avast there! Back your Maintopsail

Jack Got Safe Into Port With His Prize

Ok, so perhaps still somewhat innocent, or at least not overt. Weird wording about a guy named Jack courting a lady. Except...Jack is not merely Jack. Jack is shorthand for a sailor--and the fellow is dressed in a style normal for a sailor. And then the odd captions make much more sense.

A cruise was (and still is) the term for a naval vessel's time at sea. In the 18th century, a cruise was also generally considered a time during which a ship would attempt to engage in naval battles and take prizes--taking another ship meant that the victor had claim to the goods on board and even the ship itself. So, Jack is on a cruise--for a very particular kind of prize. The second print shows us that he's proven successful--he's come back to "port" with his prize.

And the prize? Well, proper ladies probably wouldn't go in for dalliances with sailors. The stereotype of pairing prostitutes and sailors was alive and well in the 18th century--it may be assumed that this woman could be a professional. Or perhaps she is an unsuspecting woman about to be loved and left. I tend to assume the former--mostly from the large quantities of other prints on Walpole from the period that feature ladies of the evening!

Sapphire Gown

2011-10-17T05:50:00.000-07:00

The Sapphire Gown stepped out for the first time on Friday, and the setting couldn't have been more perfect. Location? Early 20th century resort hotel. Event? Ball celebrating the 236th birthday of the United States Navy. With cake.

I think the ceiling might be my favorite architectural feature in hotel lobby--crick in the neck from staring up all night!

I need to learn to take pictures before dancing for a couple hours and wearing off most of my makeup. The requisite front shot; love how the front drape and the vintage brooch turned out:

And the back, with the mini-bustle and pleated chiffon on the side. Plus the hair I did myself. Me+tail comb+metric ton aerosol hairspray=slightly scary bathroom but hair that will.not.move:

Overall, I'm very happy with how this turned out! Lessons learned:

1) Dress form = amazingness. So many things went so much better using Felicity, my felicitous dress form. Fitting, setting the zipper, and, most of all, the chiffon draping and mini-bustle arranging.

2) Creating a boned foundation piece for the interior of the gown is priceless. It took some extra time, but the results speak for themselves. The gown held up--literally. And the fit could not have been better having the extra support.

3) You can take inspiration from any time period you want and create a modern gown. Really, really.

Evening highlight? The keynote speaker, an admiral-y type, asked my husband what kind of music he wanted to request (the usual small-talk-y kind of thing). He answered, of course, swing--and whether the admiral made it happen or someone else requested, we got to dance to a mini-swing-set! All in all, a lovely evening!

Block Print Jacket Ensemble--First Wearing

2011-10-12T05:51:00.001-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, I met up with Mother for an event that's smack-dab in between our towns--and dressed her in her new ensemble. I ultimately decided to trim the sleeves and jacket front, but leave the hem alone to avoid this getting too busy. I couldn't find my sheer apron, but hope to for the next event we're both at so I can experiment some more with accessories.

I think I like the ensemble from the back best:

Everything swishes perfectly when she walks! and I love the fit and flare of this particular jacket style.

And the front. Some slight lacing issues--I need to add another couple of loops for lacing. And poor Mother--she really needs stays that fit her better. These are too short and it caused some issues with the neckline of the jacket.

We had fun taking these pictures--not included here are the half a dozen with my uncle popping into the shot, lurking behind Mother, peering out from behind Mother, and picking his nose behind Mother. For funsies.

Block prints are more fun in pairs:

I'd like to make her a gown in future--she only has jackets and petticoats, and has a great figure for a round gown!

Sapphire Gown: First Look

2011-10-11T05:46:00.000-07:00

I finished the Sapphire Gown last night after steady progress all weekend. I still need to do a final press (especially on the still-rumpled hem) and add in a hook and eye to the top of the back closure. But since I could put it on for a final fitting, I count it as done.

Can I simply share that having a dress form makes this whole process so much easier? Last year I did a freehand drape on the front of a gown bodice, and doing so on oneself is not only pesky but painful when one has a tendency to drive pins into ones flesh. And my favorite part of modern gown making is the final tweaking by hand.

So--a few sneak peek pictures before the gown makes its debut this Friday:

Detail of the skirt back--mini bustle:

Detail of pleated chiffon on the side:

The final touch--a vintage brooch I bought last weekend at the antique mall:

I'm thrilled with how this came out! I was concerned that the look would end up too historical and costumey, or lacking the original inspiration. I think it managed to walk the line--but I'll leave the final say up to you once I post final pics next week!

All in the Details: Eighteenth Century Accessories

2011-10-10T05:30:00.000-07:00

I love my gowns. I really do. But the secret to eighteenth-century awesome? It's in the details. The best ensembles I've seen had great clothing as a base--but they hit awesome with a heavy inclusion of accessories.

So, I've made it a point to focus more on my accessories this year. I'm pretty pleased with the results:

A) Hat of Win. I love all my hats--my beat-up chip hat with ribbon trim (for my "I'm scraping bottom here but darn it, I shall still look nice!" campfollower look), my extra-large bergere (for pastoral whimsyness). But the Hat of Win accomplishes everything one could want in an 18th century topper--a certain je ne sais quoi of angled perfection. Plus pretty ribbons. And a large hatpin. And sun-shielding properties.

B) The basic cap underneath. I think the silk organza Snow Beast elevates the look even more. First advice for novice costumers and reenactors? Find the cap style that suits YOU. It's incredible--one person's laughable joke of a cap looks stunning on someone else. Then top it with a ribbon. It takes almost any cap from "thing you need to wear on your head" to "ladylike fashion statement."

C) Paste earrings. I have a variety of 18th century earrings (including faux pearls and simple silver), but my ornate paste ones are my favorites. In fact, I'm wearing them right now with my 21st outfit. What is paste? It's costume jewelry--cut glass set in metal, "pasted" in so to speak. Beautiful examples survive of detailed, decadent, and droolworthy paste jewelry. Plus, since it's not real stuff, I don't worry about losing it.

D) Silk kercheif. This one's practical (like the straw hat--works better than sunglasses for eliminating squinting). I hate getting sunburned. I especially hate my neck and shoulders getting sunburned. Tuck a silk kercheif in your neckline, and you don't get sunburned. Plus, it's such a lovely vanilla color in real life--matches absolutely everything.

E) "Coral" necklace. Eighteenth-century folks loved their coral. Today, of course, we know that it's a vital, living building block to an entire ecosystem, so we've knocked it off with the rampant harvesting (well, mostly knocked it off). Which is all the better, really, for authenticity sake. Why? The deep, rich red tones prized in the eighteenth century are nearly impossible to find in nature today (three guesses why...). So I've made do with a set of resin beads whose color and texture mimic natural coral.

F) Gown trim. Some might consider this part of the gown. I consider it an accessory. Why? Well, a) it's just for decoration. And b) my trims, like their 18th century forebears, can be removed and changed at will. Kind of in-depth accessorizing, but keeps the gown looking fresh. The neck and sleeves have pinked, box-pleated trim, and there's a single-layer engeageant at the sleeve hem.

Whirlwind of Mending

2011-10-07T08:45:00.000-07:00

Has it really been a week since the last time I posted? Looks like...but you see, the weather has been beautiful since last Friday, including a crisp and bright weekend to debut the short cloak and mild afternoons and evenings every day this week for walks and savoring the last days of wine on the porch before the cold winds will drive us inside. So I couldn't tie myself down to a keyboard.

Still, I've been busy. I even have a Friday Five--sewing mini-projects completed this week:

1) Fixed weird boning issue with stays. When I ordered boning for the new stays, you may recall that what arrived what not what I planned for. Which meant I was short two out of three long bones for the horizontal front pieces. Solution? Hardware store, cable ties, quick snip and slip of cut-to-size heavy-duty plastic strips.

2) Fixed weird jacket front issue. My wool jacket was being cranky--slippery boning and fussy eyelets. Cable ties take two. And, resolved. (Sensing a theme here on cable ties?)

3) Fixed a hem. On normal, 21st century dress pants. No cable ties involved. Pretty boring.

4) Fixed the weird wrinkling issue with gown. Stripped the red silk gown of hooks, eyes, boning, and refitted it slightly to the new stays. Should be able to be pinned now, rather than hooks and eyes (which I never liked anyway).

5) Worked on Snow Beast #2. It would have been completed save the fact that ruffle attempt #1 looked ridiculous. As in, cartoon baby bonnet ridiculous. Or Alice in Wonderland oyster babies. Whatever. Ridiculous.

Now that I'm done fixing things--I'm looking forward to new projects! I have a pair of stays to make for a friend (hopefully eliminating the weird issues a la #1 of this list) and the Sapphire Gown to finish for the Navy Ball...next weekend! Better get crackin'!

What does the weekend hold in store for you? I plan to drink a pint of sunlight and roll around in some multicolored leaves, myself.

Friday Five: Five Things I Should Really Update You On

2011-09-30T07:08:00.000-07:00

1) I finished the short cloak I started dreaming about way back in the spring! By finished I mean I still need to line the hood and trim it (which involves finding the perfect fur--either good-quality faux or a piece of vintage too destroyed for anything but re-purposing), but it's wearable--and just in time for a very chilly albeit beautiful weekend for reenacting! I'll post photos and a project recap soon--suffice to say, I started on Monday and finished last night, including quite a bit of hand sewing. In short (Ha! Short Cloak! Get it?), an easy project.

2) I'm querying a project. I like to keep mum at this stage because a) no one wants to live the ludicrous ups and downs with me and b) my professional persona is a quiet mouse. But things are going, fulls are out, I'm cautiously optimistic. And convinced I'll fail, all at once. See? No one wants to read about that with me.

3) I'm halfway through writing Book #2 in the post-apocalyptic project. I'm hitting some snags, mostly in terms of finding time to write. Fall is an insanely busy time for me reenacting wise, but I'm percolating ideas and know where I'm going--into Book #3, even. I'm panicking mildly about investing this much energy in a series, which I know isn't necessarily the wisest career move, so I'm also researching for some other projects.

4) It's fall here. Real, crisp, beautiful fall. It happened all at once. I have yet to get my first pumpkin spice latte of the season. Methinks this afternoon.

5) I don't do this much, but I want to pull your attention for a second to an issue we're hoping to get some organic, word-of-mouth support behind. To make a very long story short, my good friend Sandy is currently engaged in a difficult custody battle. Her grandchildren were abducted by their father and taken into Saudi Arabia, where custody laws are very different and avenues for pursuing legal action to return these children to their mother are narrower. Take a moment to read her blog, and spread the word, say a prayer, or send some positive thoughts if you're so inclined. http://www.sandrasvoice.blogspot.com/

The Snow Beast: Silk Organza Cap

2011-09-27T08:29:00.000-07:00

Years ago, a reenacting friend and I made caps together. I made a little, barely-there slip of a cap that turned out sadly too small for my mess of thick hair. She made a heavily ruffled, double-layered creation. It was really cute. Until she put it on. Then it became known as The Snow Beast. We called it this because a) it was very large b) it was very white c) it looked like it was attempting to devour her head.

I had forgotten the lesson of the Snow Beast.

Until this weekend.

I ordered a yard of silk organza from Dharma Trading Company to play with creating caps. It's gorgeous stuff--sheer, delicate but stiff hand, a lovely pure cool white. It was easy enough to put together--the one tricky bit is that everything will show through the sheer fabric, so I had to plan ahead to work over the same stitching rows for each point in the construction process. For instance, I stitched the band to the ruffle over the same line that the ruffle was gathered. This wasn't difficult, but something I almost forgot to consider--so, word to the wise.

I went easy and only did one ruffle. Because, though I had forgotten the lesson of the Snow Beast, a leeriness of ruffles has followed me ever since.

The cap turned out nicely, especially under a straw hat.

Excuse the maniacal laughter--I have no idea what I was talking to the other ladies about, but I'm sure it was not nearly as funny as my ridiculous face in this picture.

But without the hat--the Snow Beast emerged.

It's kind of a lot of cap. I'm kind of ok with it. I need to refine the ruffles in the back--I had tied my little ribbon on a bit oddly so they scrunched up. But a Lot of Cap is very fashionable for the late 18th century, so I think I'll keep this one in the rotation.

And, since organza is such fun, I'm trying Round Two of bitsy slip-of-a-cap, this time with organza and a larger back for my mess of hair.

Writing: On Being a Camel

2011-09-26T06:15:00.000-07:00

Writers go a really long time between successes. A really, really long time. You can write, revise, edit, polish, send that manuscript out into the world, have it hurtle right back, and start again--all without any "real" success--those external markers like praise, publication, or a congratulatory cookie.

There are a lot of characteristics that people claim help a writer succeed. Perseverance, dedication, creativity, mild insanity. I'd like to suggest one more.

Being a camel.

A success camel, that is. A praise camel.

A writer needs to be able to go a very long time on a very little bit of success. There will be hours and hours of work for every little bit of encouragement--even if you've built a network of writer friends and critique partners who help to build you up. Much of your time is still spent alone, gazing into the cooly glowing, emotionless face of your computer monitor. Each bit of success--a contest win, a nice word from a crit partner, anything--needs to be stored up to last through the solitary times, through rejections, through the long desert of the road to publication.

Sure, great idea...but I'm not a camel. Well, that's true. You don't have a fatty lump on your back in which to store things. You'll need another method. Try these.

1) Keep a file of all your critiques. I have a terrible habit sometimes of skimming the nice things people say and cutting right to the "meat and potatoes" of the stuff they say needs to be fixed. This is dumb on two levels, people. One--the nice things are actually really useful--don't you need a little guide on what's working as you proceed? Two--later, when you're feeling discouraged, you can look back and be reminded that, yes, in fact, your work is NOT a giant puddle of festering ignorant black type on white paper. You do good stuff.

2) Print a couple of the best ones--in pretty font, even--and put it near where you write. Narcissistic-looking, to the outsider? Maybe. But it's not for them, is it?

3) Cultivate relationships with people who will not only critique, but build up as well. Telling you where you're going wrong is important, but so is encouragement. Sometimes even the best critique partners and writing buddies can't do both for you--and that's ok. Having a large network is fine.

4) Pick up a hobby that does deliver tangible results. One of the reasons I sew--unlike writing, when you sew, the work you put in is generally in direct proportion to the results you get. You put in hours hand-pleating and gathering a blouse? You get a beautiful blouse. You put in hours revising, editing, polishing? You might still get a rejection. Acknowledging that writing is not such a direct game is step one, and if you need that directness, step two is finding something that provides it.

5) Even camels eventually need a drink. Don't push yourself to cross deserts longer than you should.

And your fun fact of the day: There are two kinds of camels, Bactrians and Dromedaries. How to tell them apart? Bactrians have two humps, Dromedaries only one.

And when you put the letter B on its side, it has two humps--and the letter D, only one. Easy!

Are you a success camel? What are your camel suggestions? Are you a Bactrian or a Dromedary? Spitting in the comments not encouraged.

Friday Five: Rules I Break

2011-09-23T06:08:00.000-07:00

I tend to like rules. But sometimes, aren't they more like guidelines, anyway?

1) Remember What Not to Wear, how they always chided the over-25 set for shopping in the juniors section? Well...I shop in the juniors section. Judiciously. Nothing sparkly or clingy. But sometimes the jeans intended for "grown-ups" fit me really badly--why do they cut such ridiculous curves into those things? I have hips, not thigh-balloon-animals. No one has a hip poodles protruding from their sides. Plus I found a pair of jeans and the perfect plaid shirt that reminded me of a more grown-up version of what I would have bought for back-to-school when I was seventeen. I liked how I dressed at seventeen. There's some joy to be found in remembering who we were--and appreciating who we were. And ditching anything clingy or sparkly because we've learned better.

2) Measure twice, cut once. To clarify, I've never done much with carpentry or woodworking, so I may well follow this rule in those arenas, given the chance. But as a seamstress--I measure once, cut, and adjust as I go. I'd rather tweak in progress than have it all planned out from the get-go with no wiggle room--because, ever notice? You nearly always need wiggle room. And writing--I have a rough plan. But by the time I type "the end" on a first draft, I've rewritten the pages between it and "once upon a time" fifteen times over. It works for me. A rigid plan would result in a much messier first draft--and a lot more revision work on the back end.

3) Eary to bed and early to rise...Makes Jack boring. I'm not a night owl, but if I was early to bed, I'd never get anything done. Writing, sewing, baking--all good things are started for me, it seems, after 8 p.m. Like last night's sweet potato pie. And occasionally, with good friends, midnight is far too early to call it a night.

4) Finish what you start. I used to be this way about pretty much everything. If I started a book, I had to finish it. If I made dinner, by gum we would eat it in leftover form until it killed us. But sometimes being a finisher isn't all that important. If the book is terrible, put it down and read something else. If that recipe tastes like dog kibble, toss it and order pizza. Finishing what you start is still important--sometimes. I've revised my position--Decide what's important, then finish it. But never be afraid to start something because it might not be something you want to finish.

5) Don't live in the past. Why not? It's such fun! :P All joking aside, while it's not wise to dwell on regrets, it's not wise to ignore who we were and what we hoped for, either--find solace and inspiration in memories and dusty dreams!

What rules do you break?

What I'm Writing Now

2011-09-20T05:22:00.000-07:00

What's a nice history geek like you doing writing a post-apocalyptic novel?

I've always presented myself as a history nerd here--and when I first started this blog, I was writing only historical fiction. First the whole package was pretty 18th century in theme--18th century clothing, history tidbits, and novel in progress. Then it branched out when I started writing a WWII-era project.

Now it must seem I've gone off the deep end, writing not a story of a recreated past, but spun from a speculated future.

Not quite.

Because, you see, I can't quite get away from my historical roots. I firmly believe that there's nothing new under the sun, and if we're doing it now or may do it in the future, we can be informed of the hows and whats and whos by looking at the past. Much of the research for a world where technology is defunct must come from history--so I was right in my element, drumming up questions and answers in the history stacks of the library. My characters have to plant and harvest without machinery, trap and hunt and raise livestock. And not only sew, but produce fabric. There are spinning wheels and drop spindles and knitting needles littered throughout the book--because, as in the past, in this world, constant work is a way of life.

To get even more specific, the three groups of people tied together in the story are based on different historical groups. For realsies. You've got:

The Colony: This may be a touch obvious, but--the Colony is based on the period of early settlement in North America. A large part of this is the importance of small community--both groups are reliant pretty much only on themselves for survival. Oh, and lots of carving an existence from the forest and stuff. I specifically thought of the first settlements in the American Midwest--the French who settled in what they called "La plus belles pays du monde"--the most beautiful country in the world. Their existence was difficult, but their communities, cultures, and behavoir was, mostly, rather refined.

The Federate: My antagonists are probably my favorite group in the story. They're great at being arrogant, efficient, and charming. They're trying to build an empire. They're the British military, c. 1800. I love these guys--you hate what they're doing, but man--do they look nice in the uniform. And what they do is pretty despicable, unless you like colonialism's nasty faces of slavery, oppression, and "progress."

The Metropole: These guys are a bit shiftier. The City dwellers who stayed, their culture fractured into tribes or clans, making them easy comparisons to a myriad tribal cultures. But I'll take the step that their fierce loyalty to their clan, their uneasy relationships to one another, and their focus on fighting as pretty much the only way to distinguish themselves, I'll call it--they're like my Celtic ancestors. If only they got drunk more, they'd be deadringers for Irish (I kid! Just a classic, self-deprecating 'all we do is fight and drink' joke!)

Enough of me blathering about my story...what interesting ties between past and present--or future--have you found lately?

The Block-Print Ensemble, Finished! (Sort of)

2011-09-18T18:37:00.000-07:00

It took some dedicated effort to get this done this weekend as planned. It also took The Phantom Planet and Gamera (giant fire-breathing turtle, much?) queued up on Netflix. But I finished the block-print jacket and petticoat combo for Mother. I was determined to be done for an event next weekend--a somewhat farb-fest* of an event that we go to primarily because it's close and they have apple dumplings and meat pies.

Why did this take so long? I honestly don't know. It shouldn't have. The jacket was mostly done months ago. Then...I got distracted by other things. And things. And these things, too.

In addition to that, however, "the" petticoat is a bit of a misnomer. It's actually two (double the fun?). Because this beautiful printed cotton voile is rather thin, I made a plain white cotton voile petti to go underneath so that the print shows unmuddied. And let me tell you--Dharma Trading Company's cotton voile is my new favorite thing. I'll be ordering mass quantities and dying them in the near future. I could flail about happily in a giant pile of their soft, delicious, just-stiff-enough-not-too-stiff heavenly voile.

Ahem. Flailing aside. The outfit. It's going to look much better on a real person--the skirts fall pretty limp on poor Felicity, who doesn't have quite the figure to pull this off. I'm going to try to find my sheer white apron to match with this to break up the print a little, and have extra pink ribbon to doll up Mother's cap and tie on a necklace.

About that pink ribbon. For one, it looks much less Pepto and much more summer-berry-happiness in person. Still, I don't want to overdo it--in my original plan, the jacket would be trimmed about the hem with the ribbon and the sleeves would have box-pleated trim to match the front. Still on the fence--I might see how it wears a bit less adorned, and then steal it back to add more floof.

To come--pictures on a real human being. And apple dumplings. Wait, those are just for me.

*Farb/farby--a reenactorism meaning not authentic, incorrect, pseudo-historical. Said to come from the expression "Far be it from me to correct you, but..."

I Like Big False Rumps and I Cannot Lie--The Further Adventures of the Polonaise

2011-09-16T05:41:00.000-07:00

The only difference between an eighteenth century lady and a twenty-first century lady? When the eighteenth-century lady asks, "Does my butt look big in this?" you say, "YES."

Before you ask--I asked a friend to snap a pic of my gown right before changing at an event last weekend. Some folks, however, had already changed--which explains the overalls in the background. No, denim bib overalls were not part of the Congressional military issued uniform during the American Revolution. But it would be cool if they were. Anyway.

I randomly decided about four days before our reenactment this weekend that I wanted to rework my (already once-reworked) gown. This involved creating a matching petticoat from the leftover fabric, and though I love wearing a contrasting petticoat, the effect of the matching one was exactly what I was going for. I also added pinked-and-pleated trim on the neckline and trim on the sleeves gathered into little "balloons" (I know someone knows what I mean by this--is there a better term?). In more mundane additions, I tweaked the neckline so it would fit better. Finally, I redid the polonaise-bum-floof with new tapes to tie it up.

That said, the new stays fit a bit differently (but are incredibly comfortable compared to my older pair--even though they lace tighter!) so I have some new wrinkling issues on the bodice of the gown. Que sera, sera--you fix one thing and another crops up. I may resolve this by taking everything out of and off of the front of the bodice--hooks and eyes, boning, all of it--and just refitting it on the new stays instead of tweaking it piecemeal. And though my butt looks pretty big, I think I could go bigger without bordering the ridiculous. New false rump is in my future.

Finally--I had to share a photo a fellow living history person took at the event, because
a) it's really well-done! and b) it shows the Hat of Win to its best advantage. And c) you can see that wrinkling I'm talking about. Blerg.

Have a great weekend, all! I plan on one filled with getting out of The Slump and completing a long-overdue sewing project--to be debuted next weekend!

Writing Slumps

2011-09-15T06:40:00.000-07:00

Everyone has them. Sometimes your excitement about your story fizzles. Sometimes you're just feeling burned out. Sometimes other emotional or physical factors are exhausting you and you don't have much left to stoke your creativity. Sometimes you're just too dang busy.

I think breaks from writing are fine. It's ok to decide you need a vacation from your writing, that you need to work on something non-writing-related for a while, or that there's something in the "real" world that's temporarily taking precedent.

But how do you get back to it?

For me, writing isn't a habit as much as it's a regular part of my week. That is, I don't have the habit of writing at X time in Y place everyday for a set number of words or a set amount of time. My life doesn't really allow that. Instead, it's a regular thing--almost every day, I'll write something, somewhere. And I get a lot done. But the lack of habit makes getting back in the groove a little tricky.

I'm in that place now--the past couple weeks have been very busy outside of writing, I've had other creative endeavors with deadlines (sewing photos coming soon!), and I've felt kind of emotionally spent for no real good reason. So I need to get back on track!

A few ideas to try:

1) Create a schedule. If you're not usually a scheduled writer, but write more sporadically, make a date with yourself to write. Schedule the time--make it a habit for a week or two until you're back in the swing of things. This may mean prioritizing writing over something else--but you can put aside just about anything for a week, right?

2) Write something new. Sometimes the reason you're avoiding writing is your current project. Maybe you're not feeling as excited as you were in the beginning. Maybe there's a giant problem that you don't know how to tackle. Yes, you're going to have to get back to that eventually. But in the meantime, I find that writing something is better than dwelling on how you're not writing anything. Try a short story. Play with another project. It's not cheating. It's reviving your creativity. It also lets you write without boundaries--if you're feeling clogged, even freewriting or journaling gives you an outlet to start using your writing muscles again.

3) Try revision instead. Occasionally easing myself back into the writing waters by editing something I've been working on revs me up. The older and more distant I am from the revisable project, the better. This may sound really self-involved, but I get excited realizing "Hey, I wrote that! And...I could do it again..." Then there I go, back to the project I was stuck on.

4) Take yourself out. Try writing someplace new. When I'm home I find myself distracted by those millions of little things that kept me from writing in the first place. The laundry, the half-hemmed skirt, the floor that desperately needs sweeping. Get away and devote the time to your work. I find that, laptop in hand, surrounded by other people working (I live in a college town), I feel pressured into being really productive. Plus, I can tell myself "You came here to work. Now work!" Bonus: The pumpkin spice latte is back. Just saying.

5) Keep an inspiration book/board/computer file/whatever. While you're brainstorming or writing, keep tabs on the things that motivate you. For me, it's often music--there are certain songs that capture the mood I want out of a project, and just listening to them makes me want to dive back in. Maybe you're more visual--and a bulletin board chockablock full of pictures will get you excited. Or maybe it's just a collection of words, ideas, and research nitbits. Whatever it is--if you're slumping, either look at it or start collecting it. The process of associating another medium--music, art, poetry--with your project can get you back in your project's good graces.

What tricks do you try to get back on track?

The Tenth Eleventh

2011-09-09T07:02:00.001-07:00

Strange, how I'll be doing the same thing the weekend of September 11 this year, ten years later, that I did the weekend after it happened.

That date has serves as such a marker, a common point for everyone who was alive that day. We all know where we were, what we were doing. For me, I was at home, despite the fact that I was a junior in high school--we had standardized tests that day and upperclassmen didn't have to take them, so could go in late. So I was home on a Tuesday morning. Sewing. Fixing a red wool shortgown for a reenactment the following weekend.

This week I've been sewing in the evenings, fixing a red silk gown for a reenactment this weekend.

Of course I didn't understand what was going on until the second plane hit, like everyone else, and then my friend picked me up for school and we were barraged by teachers when we walked in the building, beseeching us not to tell the students still taking tests (how were we to see them?) what had happened (we still didn't really understand) because it would distract them (I tended to think this was the least of our concerns).

So we were shuttled into class--I had Physics--and our teacher put on CNN and paced the back of the room. His nephew was working in the World Trade Center that day.

And then the question arose on whether we'd cancel our event that weekend, and we heartily answered no in what may have been one of the more rousing and less idiotic incantations of "if we do that, they win." Because we felt that in portraying the foundation of our country, we'd be asserting its strength for continuation. And, maybe, because we wanted to be together.

We did nothing different that weekend, save one thing: We usually begin and end the day with an 18th century muster and trooping of the colors. We did that. But we added raising--and lowering to half-staff--the American flag, and singing the national anthem. We've never done this before or since.

Ten years later, it seems everything has changed--for me personally and on the world stage--yet this weekend, I'll be doing nothing different than I was a few days after the attacks. Same people, same day begun cooking over a campfire, ended wrapped in wool blankets and music and the dim glow of fading campfire embers. Still wearing red, still madly sewing just before the event.

Apologies for the self-indulgent, reflective post.

Unveiling the 1780s Stays

2011-08-31T18:35:00.000-07:00

What time is it?

New stays time!

I finished my 1780 stays last night, binding the last edges while watching Mad Men on Netflix, which never fails to inspire dozens of additional sewing projects. This was my first foray into corset-making, and I learned a lot--and discovered that a) it's not as scary as I'd feared and b) I think I want to make more.

The final product:

Blue silk, cotton canvas innards, linen lining, cotton tape binding and steel boning. Pattern from Norah Waugh's Corsets and Crinolines with help from discontinued Simplicity pattern. The front-tied straps are from the Simplicity pattern--I knew I'd eventually pop one midway through something and need to retie it myself.

What went well:

It fits (mostly) perfectly. Unlike my old stays, it doesn't pinch my hips at all, yet it laces tighter and yields a much more fashionable shape, for those days I'd like to go "fashion-before-ease."

General construction was easy-peasy.

The finish work not only turned out well, it was really fun to do! Call me a nerd, but stitching the binding and creating the eyelets was a blast! I've decided eyelets are my new favorite thing. Watching an ugly hole turn into a lovely bound eyelet was just too enjoyable! Plus my method was great. I don't have "real" tools for this, so I stabbed a cross-hatch in with a paring knife then shoved a really large bodkin through several times. Great stress relief.

Things that went not-so-well:

First. I ordered steel boning from an online vendor. It was very good quality, arrived promptly, and was inexpensive. It was also twice as wide as I expected. (I swear I ordered the "normal" size, not the "wide" size.) But I wanted to forge ahead. Which meant I had to rework the boning channel layout and deal with a result that was less authentic that what I had hoped for. See yesterday's red example--the thin channels were really what I was hoping for.

Then. Some of the boning was longer than expected. (And I measured, friends. I measured twice.) My dear husband got to spend an hour with the dremel shaving a good two inches off the ends of the boning needed for the back. Good to know--a thick layer of goopy nail polish finishes raw metal boning ends beautifully.

And. While the horizontal channels stitched up just beautifully on machine--no wrinkling, no crumpling, they simply would not stitch without wrinkling on the vertical channels. I tried every tension setting, every solution--eventually I decided that, if I was going to complete these without wrecking the fabric, I couldn't pick out another row of stitches. It was wrinkly machine sewing or hand-sewing, and as these are my first attempt (so in many ways a glorified mock-up) I went for the speed of wrinkly machine.

Finally--though the waist and bust fit great, the very top of the back is too loose. This would not be difficult to fix. It also doesn't ruin anything as is. The front is also a touch long.

I'm also very pleased with the blue fabric and the wee little gold bows. It's the little things.

Thoughts? Questions? Suggestions for next time? Am I nuts for wanting to forge ahead and do a 1870s/1880s corset next (looks so fun!).

Research and Background of the 1780s Stays

2011-08-30T05:59:00.000-07:00

The 1780s stays are nearly finished. I feel like I've had a giant fight with them, mourned what they could have been with fewer problems, and come to accept them as they are. Before unveiling them in all their not-quite-glory, I thought I would share where they came from, and why they're different from the stays I already have.

First up--the inspiration for the stays comes from these beauties from the Victoria and Albert museum.

Noteworthy about theses? It's best in comparison with an extant pair that most closely mirrors my current stays:

These are from the Met, and besides being a bit more careworn, they have some distinctive differences.

1) Straps. Denoting these as probably a lower-to middling-class woman's set, as straps restrict movement further and were more often used in upper-crusty stays. They keep the shoulders back, further improving the proper, upright 18th century posture.

2) Boning. See how these achieve their shape and ability to support through heavy boning? The V&A uses a more strategic approach--shaped pattern pieces and angled boning lend the garment its shape and the wearer the proper support.

3) Shape. The beige stays are basically conical. The red ones, however, are a bit more nuanced--the front is flatter, and they are broader across the bust and nip a bit more at the waist. As the 18th century progressed, less cone, flatter front, more emphasis on the bust became more fashionable. This is, as I'm sure you can tell, due in large part to the shape of the side pieces--whereas the beige stays have basically straight-up-and-down pieces, whereas the red stays have a rather extreme diagonal bent to the sides.

For example of absolutely breathtaking recreations of these stays, visit Bridges on the Body and The Aristocrat. I find the second example to be particularly droolworthy and the seamstress in question is lucky I can't afford to fly to Finland and steal them.

Then, come back later this week for the unveiling of my not-quite-as-impressive first attempt at staymaking, as well as a breakdown of what went well--and what will be done differently next time.

Meet Felicity--the Newest Addition to my Sewing Room

2011-08-27T07:06:00.000-07:00

I've had need for some time of a dress form. I can certainly complete projects without it--but draping on oneself is not only tricky, it's stabby. I've driven a pin into myself more times than I care to admit!

So I started trolling craigslist and freecycle, garage sales and secondhand shops, looking for a quiet little friend to stand in the corner of my sewing room and lend me a hand.

I brought Felicity home last week.

Why Felicity? Becase getting her was rather, well, felicitous. I was having very little luck finding anything within my budget, and came across a listing on craigslist with a price I was happy to pay. Unfortunately, the listing was over an hour away.

But remember how I live in a college town? The young lady selling the form was transferring to the university I work for--so a couple emails and a quick visit to a dorm parking lot, and I had Felicity in the backseat.

She is ever so patient with my draping and finagling, and even likes having pins poked into her.

And yes, she's currently modeling the Sapphire Gown. The drape of chiffon on her has been pleated, pinned, draped, and tucked about a dozen times--experimenting is such fun!

Historical Costume Inspiration Festival Returns!

2011-08-23T07:54:00.000-07:00

Last year, Atlanta at Story of a Seamstress hosted a festival celebrating historic costume. From dedicated reproductions to fantasy costumes to modern ensembles inspired by history, the week-long posting frenzy was a delight to participate in! I submitted my eighteenth-century walking gown for the festival; this year I hope to share another reproduction piece--or ensemble--as well as the Sapphire Gown.

Sorry to say, however, you'll have to wait until January to partake in the fun of basking in others' creations. So why am I sharing so early? Simple. Often when I post sewing projects, my creative readers comment that they'd love to try something like this "someday."

The Historical Costume Inspiration Festival is a perfect "someday" to aim for! The submissions run the gamut of authenticity and style, and no one should shy away from participating because it's their first historical creation! Consider joining in!

Get the skinny--and enjoy last year's festival--on Atlanta's blog!

Cries of London: Ballad Seller and Clothing Breakdown

2011-08-16T11:33:00.000-07:00

I enjoyed picking apart the clothing of the Strawberry Seller so much that I found another fun Wheatly Cries of London print to talk about--the Ballad Seller.

In review--the Cries of London were a painting seriesturned series of prints (much of art in the 18th century had multiple lives as paintings, print runs, slightly adjusted and re-run print runs, etc) that depicted ordinary people of the London streets, plying their trades.

The Ballad Seller was one of these street vendors. Before the days of albums, CDs, and mp3s, new music was disseminated on broadsides--large-format fliers that printed the lyrics to new songs and sometimes included slips of sheet music. Ballad sellers were often among the poorest of street vendors, and some contemporary prints and writings depict ballad-selling as little better than begging. However, their trade required a skill that other street vendors did not need to possess--to sell their broadside sheet music, they sang the song printed on it. More on broadsides and ballad selling can be found here; the study of this historical "pop culture" is fascinating!

In the print above, the ballad seller seems to be doing a rather good job drawing a crowd--she must be good at what she does!
Though she looks quite sweet, she's also a bit raggedy (check the rather floppety hat and the shoes, which don't appear to have buckles), lending credence to the idea that ballad sellers earned only a meager living. I can't tell if she's wearing a gown rucked off to the side or if that's a large apron; either way, she likely has her wares tucked safely inside.

The bottom of her petticoat has what looks like a crease along the hem. This may be a growth pleat--or one that has been let out, leaving a long crease. Growth pleats were included in clothing for growing girls--this seller could be a teenager. I've also (having very little good data) sewn horizontal pleats into petticoats to help them stand out a bit more. I've seen this on one extant garment made for an adult. So--my guess-either our ballad seller is a girl young enough to have had her most recent clothing made with a growth pleat, or she's wearing something secondhand. (Secondhand clothing was very common in the 18th century--"rag fairs" sold used goods at discount.)

Unlike our strawberry seller, who would have been peddling her wares in the early summer, the ballad seller seems to be on a chilly, wintery street. To combat the cold, her audience is wearing great coats and cloaks. The ballad seller is wearing a mantelet or a short cloak--I'm guessing at mantelet because it appears to be shaped in the front. Either way, note the hood on the back. She could pull this on over her cap (she'd probably ditch the straw hat) for extra warmth. More on mantelets and short cloaks here; hers is probably a wool broadcloth.

Anything else you notice about the ballad seller's clothing? Questions about her clothing or the clothing of her audience on these rainy London streets?

Sapphire Gown: Underdress

2011-08-12T05:03:00.000-07:00

The sewing bonanza last weekend was uber-productive, and I finished the underdress construction on Saturday with a quick nip to my sewing room at home on Sunday to attach the lining. It's really, really simple:

As it stands, I could actually wear this on its own--it just needs zipper and hem. But once I get those elements complete, the real fun of draping the chiffon overdress and creating a mini-bustle begins. Because as is? It's a touch boring.

I tried the dress on for fit last night and to get the zipper placement worked out:

Yay! It fits!

Things that worked well so far:

1) I created a boned foundation piece for the first time with this dress, and I'm thrilled with it. I've never used plastic boning in a garment before (I use steel for 18th century stuff most of the time). Despite the fact that little Edith, my sewing machine, faints at the sight of sewing anything thicker than a couple layers of satin and I had to hand-stitch all the boning, the results are worth it--much more support and the gown just hangs better. It was super-simple, and even if a gown pattern doesn't include a foundation piece, you can just use the lining pattern, cut two of each pattern piece cropped at the waist and stitch the boning between them. The pattern I used called for interfacing in the foundation piece as well, but I didn't include this--I think, after finishing, that this was the right call, as instead of the boning curving when I wear the dress to my natural waistline, the whole effect would have been stiffer and less natural-looking.

2) This pattern went together swimmingly. Even the princess seams, which I usually have a little fight with. It's an out-of-print Vogue wedding gown pattern.

3) It is such fun sewing with a friend! There were three of us gathered around her dining room table, our sewing machines all whirring away happily as we chatted and watched one another's progress. Only downside? My flood of navy satin kept trying to take over the table.

4) The fact that I'm not even making a "things that didn't go well" list. Yep, this part was that easy. I expect that the zipper will come to life and try to eat the dress or something, because no sewing project is without a mini-disaster.

Pardon the mannequin arms. And the giant bruise on my shoulder--I managed to shut my arm in my friend's car trunk unloading groceries for our sewing bonanza. Nothing beats a leisurely lunch of fresh bread and Camembert to keep the sewing energy up!

How are your projects coming along?

Why Agents Reject You

2011-08-09T08:45:00.000-07:00

Of course, I don't really know the all answers to this. I'm not an agent or an intern or any kind of expert besides being someone who has traversed the query waters before.

But I think I've got an answer that doesn't get shared very often. Because here's the thing--your query letter, your personalized greeting, your hook can all be fine--and you can still get rejected. Why?

Agents reject you because they have to.

Let me explain. I work for a university, and manage a program of undergraduate teaching assistants. It's a popular program. Instructors love it--they get assistance with their courses that they wouldn't otherwise have. Students love it--they get experience and a paycheck that's usually reserved for grad students only. The only problem with this great program?

I usually have at least four times as many applicants as I do positions available.

It's overwhelming. I have to employ plenty of tactics to wade through the pile. First and foremost? Matching applicant ability/interest/experience to instructor need. This is the most important part--I can have an exceptionally qualified applicant, but if she can't provide anything of use to the instructors who need an assistant, I can't use her. So it is with your manuscript--if an agent doesn't have any interest in the topic, if she doesn't have a home for it at her agency, if she doesn't think she has the right connections to sell it, it can be awesome--but she's going to reject it.

And even then--even after I weed out the no-gos in terms of supply/demand, there are still far more applicants than slots to fit them into.

Then--I confess--I start looking for reasons to reject applicants.

I tend to preference seniors--because I'm nice and they won't have another semester's shot, but also because they have a little more experience to bring to the table. I tend to preference higher GPAs--but not always, as I think work ethic and professionalism are more important than grades. Probably most importantly, I pay attention to how the applicant addressed me in emails, how he or she handled her personal statement with the application (professional, polite, and useful? or did she blow it off?), and--this is a big one--did he or she follow directions. I even have an abbreviation on my spreadsheet--DFD. Didn't Follow Directions. Most applicants with DFD next to their names don't get positions.

I know, it's infuriating. A perfectly good applicant, rejected because he didn't follow directions? Well, not rejected entirely. I'm nicer than that. But it does reflect poorly on him, and I'm less likely to assign him. Why? Because it shows me he's not interested in playing the game 100%. He's not interested in devoting the time it takes, in giving the respect it deserves. Yes, following directions really does say those things to me--especially when the instructions are clear as day.

And especially when I have to find someone in the pile to reject. I can't give positions to everyone--agents can't offer representation to everyone, either. And their applicant pile is a lot more competitive than mine is. I can appreciate why, while they may not "auto-reject," someone who DFDed or addressed them unprofessionally deserves less consideration than someone who put in the work to send a professional, tailored email.

That person is someone with the patience and work ethic it takes--someone I don't mind giving as an assistant to a well-respected faculty member, someone who won't make me look bad for making that assignment. Someone who an agent knows can work well with an editor, with a publishing house, and not make her look bad for representing him.

And still? I have to reject plenty of people with great applications, great credentials, well-written statements of purpose. It's not them. It's the demand, relatively small in comparison to their overwhelming supply. I try to pick the best of the bunch, but I admit--I know that I turn down great applicants every year. Maybe I turn down applicants who would have been better at the job than students I pick. I'll never know.

Now, if you're only getting rejected, never getting requests, yes, something is wrong with your query or your pages. But I hear so many writer-friends trembling at every rejection, disheartened because every agent didn't request their manuscript. You know what? It does stink. But I have a ton of great students who aren't getting positions this year. It's not them--it's an applicant pile that's far larger than I need it to be.

What do you think? Can a sparkling query and brilliant pages still get rejected? Or am I making excuses for work that's just not up to par? Any tales of giant slush piles in your own life?

Lessons for a Writer from Scrapbooking

2011-08-08T07:04:00.000-07:00

I'm going to lay it out right here--I'm not a scrapbooker. I don't own any die cuts or fun punches or a Cricut or a cute bag with tons of adorable stickers and embellishments crowding its pockets. I don't have friends who scrapbook and I don't go to meet-ups to play with fun papers and layout with other ladies. I really have no idea what I'm doing when it comes to cropping and arranging and adding sweet details and captions. Nope, not a scrapbooker.

What am I? Someone with a jumble of newly printed digital photographs with such lack of continuity that they only way to make any sense of them was to put them in a pretty album with other stuff filling in the blanks. Someone, also, who likes pretty papers and wandered into the scrapbooking section of the craft store last week.

I became an accidental scrapbooker.

This weekend I started laying out some pages--simple stuff, just a pretty background paper (I bought a pad of colored and patterned papers the same size as the album, to make things easy) with some photos arranged (hopefully artfully) on top.

Ever notice how much we read into photographs based on what's around them? This summer my uncle and cousin and I sorted through a box of loose photographs--the results of a lack of organization were hilarious. "What the heck is THIS from?" was a common refrain. Similarly, adding context--even just a pretty bit of patterned paper or some photo corners--said something about how I wanted people to "read" the photographs.

For instance--I made a page of the Mister and I at a 1920s party--I used photo corners and a simple layout on a paper that could have been your Grandma's parlor wallpaper. What was I saying? Perhaps that this is meant to be read as vintage, as historical. Had I popped it onto a background of alligators and added a sparkly frog sticker here and there, you'd read the page differently. How, I'm not quite sure. Perhaps that we'd been at a reptile park for the party. Perhaps that I was playing a little visual trick by matching the papers to the color of the dress I wore. Regardless. You'd read it differently.

The papers and stickers and mats are just decoration--the story is in the pictures. Writing is the same way--the story is the story, but what you use to embellish it or frame it tells the reader how to read the story. You're writing a funeral scene, and the language is stark, minimal, pointed, raw emotion. You've told the reader to infer something completely different than if the writing was lush, broad, removed emotionally but very reflective and pensive. I assume things about the narrator, about the characters involved, about how the death affected those involved. Just from the way the scene is written.

Or think about a beautiful spring day--how would you describe it if your romantically-entwined characters were taking a walk and discussing their future? Compare that to how you would describe it if your assassin protagonist was taking that same walking route after whacking her first assignment. I'm guessing the characters would notice and react to different things, which will inform your writing, but how you package it with language, word choice, sentence length--all those stylistic elements--will give the reader a more authentic experience. And here's the cool part--unless the reader is either very perceptive or is slowing down to analyze your writing as s/he reads, you've done it without the reader even noticing.

You've gotten into their heads. Fun.

Of course, these elements are just the window dressings, not the windows themselves. The story is still what is seen through the panes. But you can tell the reader how to approach the window by choosing a panel or a valance, a heavy brocade or a filmy linen, rigid wooden blinds or billowing silk. Ok, enough curtain metaphors.

What are ways you use the curtains to influence how your reader will look through the window? What about draperies and valances in other creative pursuits? Anyone else want to make new curtains now?

Sapphire 1880s Gown--Inspiration

2011-08-05T10:25:00.000-07:00

Well, it's that time of year again--the Navy Ball is in a couple months, so it's time for me to pull out the sewing machine and challenge myself with a modern gown inspired by historical fashions.

Last year I created a gown based on 1930s evening-wear, with a modern twist. This year I want to try something based on one of my favorite epochs in fashion, the 1870s-80s, that, unfortunately, I have very little cause to create clothing for. Unlike other time periods, there's not a lot happening in my area that warrants whipping up a late Victorian re-creation.

However, the period provides tons of inspiration from which to create a modern gown.

So, how am I going to do this? Well, for starters, there won't be any of the underpinnings that create the characteristic shape of the 1880s--no corset, no cage bustle, no petticoats. The silhouette will be strictly modern, which *should* keep this from looking too costumey. The fabric will be a deep navy/sapphire blue satin with chiffon over-draping. The basic shape will come from a super-simple strapless gown pattern with a narrow front skirt and more volume--plus a train for bustling--in the back. Additional detailing to create a more elaborate neckline and decorative touches will be done with draped chiffon.

The elements I plan to pull from the inspiration gowns, however, are characteristic of the time period:

1) Bustling. No, there won't be a wire or other heavy-duty support underneath, but I intend to create a "bum poof" of draped fabric. It remains to be seen if the fabric will support this on its own, or if I'll need to face the inside with some tulle for stiffness.

2) Neckline. Note that all three necklines featured in the inspiration board have wide v-shapes, narrowing over the shoulders (specifically the black-and-white fashion plate). I plan to drape a chiffon over-bodice to mimic this look, but show the strapless neckline underneath for a modern twist.

3) Front Drape. Another characteristic element, particularly well-shown in the peach-colored gown, is a drape across the front. I plan to extend the chiffon over-bodice down into a draped skirt--how, exactly, this will drape will have to wait until I get the basic construction done and can play with the fabric. I'm not ruling out poofs or cascades of chiffon.

A few notes on odd elements in the inspiration board:

1) Sapphire: I like the color, I like the subdued opulence, I like the hard edges and soft sheen. It's a nice metaphor for the gown, with its simple, straight underdress and softly-draped overdress.

2) Ostrich Plume: Nope, I don't plan on using any feathers. But the feathery, soft drape reminded me of how I wanted the chiffon to look.

3) Blue Fabric (background): This is about the shade I plan to use, in a heavy-ish satin.

4) Building with Columns: Last year I included an interior shot of the location of the ball for inspiration, an ornate, luxuriously painted and decorated foyer. This year I'm struck by the architectural columns--the subtly detailed simplicity producing an elegant look.

I'm heading to a dear friend's place this weekend for a sewing bonanza--I'll see how much I get done on this project, between fits of giggles and cooking delicious meals together. I'll try to take pictures of the project in progress--I'll update next week!

See Hyaline Work

2011-08-04T05:30:00.000-07:00

I've shared pictures before of my two favorite spots in the New Old House--my reading nook and my writing nook. I had intentions of sharing pictures of my sewing corner, but it's always such a mess that I have a compulsion to clean it whenever a camera gets near it, and it never quite steps up. So...forthcoming!

However, my writing nook pictures were a little too...pristine. Nice. Artfully arranged. This is not how it looks while I'm working. It looks like a mini tornado hit a tiny five-and-dime store on my desk while I'm working.

So here's a shot of the desk in action, with helpful deciphering key below:

A) Pencil cup holding two fans and a tube of hand lotion that I can't decide if I like the scent of or not. No pencils.

B) My giant hardcover notebook that holds my mishmosh of outlining, sketches, short writings, and other pen-scratch paraphernalia. More on that below.

C) The stack of books, papers, etc. underneath the notebook. This includes a printout of the last draft of The Courier that I edited from a few months ago. Clearly I need to recycle some stuff.

D) The laptop, open to the current document. At any given time, I might have Pandora or my own music open as well, and possibly my Twitter feed if I'm looking for #1k1hr motivation. Sometimes I disable my internet if I need to minimize distractions.

E) Stuffed behind the laptop are more file folders of papers, including this loose piece, which happens to be a retirement fund statement with my name spelled wrong. Need to fix that. So I put it beside the computer to remind me. That's not worked as well as one could hope (three months later).

F) I usually have a glass of wine, cup of tea, mug of coffee, something to sip on. It was a muggy, deep-summery sort of evening when I took this picture, so I was enjoying a very chilled glass of Torrontes. Seriously, people--Argentina is where it's at for wine. Thank you, free wine tasting at local specialty foods store, for enlightening me.

G) Also featured: A photo of my grandmother when she was in her twenties, in the 1920s. She had awesome hair.

So how do all these pieces fit together? Well, that giant notebook is where most of it starts. I write down story ideas in here, and details I don't want to forget on stories I'm currently working on (often inserted in pre-existing outlines with big circles scrawled around them). I'm a terrible outliner. Really, I am. Yet, I'm not really a pantser, so I plot the course of the story through a series of really, really ugly entries in the lined pages of the notebook.

They look like this. See? Ugly. Arrows, brackets, stuff scratched out and circled and moved to other places. It's a mess. But it works. Of course, someone someday will find it and think it's some kind of elaborate code covering up the location of buried treasure or a government conspiracy or military intelligence or something.

I also sketch maps, family trees, and anything else that I'll need to remember later to keep straight what the heck I was talking about. This is a map of the Colony, the setting of my current project:

I am not a cartographer, clearly.

As for that stack of books...I would love to say that they're all research material related to the WIP and that I have them all marked with wee little Post-It notes and refer to them while I write.

Nope, mostly costuming books, actually.

Which should probably live upstairs with the rest of my sewing stuff, but I was doing some comparative research between current commercially available patterns and these extant garment sketches. Hi, I am a dork.

Though I did find myself using some gown elements from this book in The Courier and Book Two, its sequel.

How do you work? Please feel free to share pics or posts in the comments!

Mean Editor Tells It Like It Is

2011-08-03T07:13:00.000-07:00

I do quite a bit of editing. For funsies--it's not my day job. Not to say I don't edit at my day job--let the people you work with figure out that you're a grammar grump and they start passing a lot of stuff your way to proof. (I also had a stint at a stationery company where I proofed hundreds--literally--of peoples' wedding invitations.) Outside of Ye Day Job, I have a few crit partners (shout-out especially to June and Hayley) whose work I've had the privilege of nitpicking, and friends often ask me to lend a hand with cover letters or even tricky emails. Because having a second pair of eyes is a good thing, especially if those eyes are almost pitifully anal about proper use of commas in linking prepositional phrases.

I tend to think I'm really nice, for the most part. I point out what I see are problems, but in a tactful, kind way.

Then I had to plow through a statement a friend had written for a professional portfolio. I was in a huge hurry, I didn't have time to nice it up, plus this friend gets my sense of humor.

Mean Editor came out. Mean Editor smash grammar! Smash stylistically clunky prose! Smash!

Mean Editor had some good lessons that I didn't think should be limited to one word doc full of bright red "Comment" bubbles.

1) "Why did you explain this? A brain-damaged mule deer would get this." Sometimes we writers feel the need to explain our terms a little too much. Yes, if you've created a world with tons of different technology or fantasy animals or are describing a historical setting, sometimes you have to explain what it is you're talking about. Preferably in a subtle, non-pace-slowing way. But if your futuristic laser gun is called the LaserGun5000, you do NOT need to tell us that the LaserGun5000 is, in fact, a laser gun that's replacing the LaserGun4000 and shoots--yes--lasers.

2) "Ditch the Sh!tty Modifiers...ok, hold on--this is going to be an acronym now. DTSM." I love adjectives and adverbs. They're beautiful, colorful, exciting little parts of speech, aren't they? But they're all-too-often categorically abused. Here's the thing. If you write in a modifier, ask yourself two things. First, does using this modifier change, clarify, or improve the functionality of this sentence? Sometimes it does. Rarely is that modifier "very," "completely," or "suddenly." If the sentence says the same thing with or without the modifier, you don't need a modifier. Second, does using this modifier take care of that functionality in the BEST way possible, or would using a more precise noun or verb do the trick? Yes, there are some times when the cadence or style benefits from using the modifier-noun/verb combo more than that one precise noun or verb. They're rare. Use them sparingly. In the meantime, DTSM.

3) Pare down the Crap. Taken from my Word doc Comment bubbles : Ok, we need to pare down the crap here. I could write a book on PARING DOWN THE CRAP but, well, it would probably be mostly crap I’d have to pare down. Sometimes when we write first drafts we tend to repeat the same things in the first drafts and use fluffy filler words to express things to others that say what we mean. Yeah. But not all repetitive junk is technically repeated--often, it's redundant because the reader has already inferred it. If you mention that Susan and Jack are meeting after Susan observes Jack's first day on the job, you don't need to tell us that the purpose of the meeting is an evaluation and discussion about that aforementioned first day on the job. Just say Susan watched Jack like an obsessive hawk all day and then asked to meet with him. We know why.

If you're wondering, I got an email back from the friend that said "This was harsh but I couldn't stop laughing--and yeah, you're right." Now--I do NOT recommend being a crankypants editor with your friends unless you KNOW that you share the same vicious sense of humor--and that that sense of humor applies to what others say about your work, as well. Tactfulness goes a very long way, and usually produces more constructive results than bluntness does. But sometimes giving yourself permission to see the worst in a CP's work--or your own!--gives you the freedom to see the best, too.

What does your Mean Editor say?

Genres and the E-Reading Age

2011-08-02T05:32:00.000-07:00

When it comes to book genres, will e-readers change the game?

There's been a lot of talk about all the changes e-readers bring to reading, writing, interacting with literature, the publishing business--all sorts of sometimes exciting, sometimes confusing, sometimes scary differences e-publishing can make. One thing I haven't seen discussed yet is the implications of e-pubbing on genre.

Genre is a tricky animal. On one hand, writers are often encouraged to write the book of their heart, but the other hand deals the tricky truth--many genres have conventions and expectations that are difficult to break. And many readers return to the genres they like for those conventions. A romance reader likes a happily-ever-after. A mystery reader likes finding the clues alongside the protagonist. Breaking with the conventions doesn't mean bad writing--just writing that falls outside the norms of the genre.

I've had great discussions recently via the blogs of a couple of friends--Val, Caroline, and June, thanks for the great thoughts! They and other writer-friends of mine have questioned where their stories fall in the genre spectrum. Say you're writing a historical novel with romantic elements. At what point do you call it a historical romance? If it's a love story but doesn't fit the category expectations of a romance, where does it live? Or a story set in a speculated future that's more of a thriller than straight sci-fi. You might label it sci-fi, speculative, or thriller (or a combination of the above) depending on how you were describing it and for what purpose.

And, of course, you all know where to find your favorite genres in your bookstore of choice. Mine has romance, sci-fi, fantasy, mystery, western, and then general fiction, which mishmoshes everything from contemporary women's fiction to historical fiction to literary fiction in one section. But what about e-bookstores?

The virtual environment of buying e-books allows, in my opinion, more flexibility in "shelving" books. A could "tag" her book as both "historical romance" and "historical fiction" if it carried elements of both genres. A reader could browse the thriller section and find some sci-fi he may not have thought to try before. A historical mystery could be easily found in both the historical fiction and mystery lists. Readers may or may not like the ability of internet gnomes to keep track of their purchases and make "suggestions" but cross-genre suggestions could work their way into the mix.

Not to mention bringing YA out of the corner--what if YA that a writer or publisher felt adults could enjoy, too, was shelved not only in the "Teen" section, but in the appropriate genre, as well?

Of course, the question with that--would this lead to reader-grabbing strategies that would only annoy the reader? "Well, dang, I opened up this stupid Nook to buy a mystery and all I can find are YA vampire books and romance novels. Frick."

Will we start loosening up on the genres? Does e-pubbing give more freedom to bend the rules and be successful? Will readers enjoy being introduced to new authors whose take on their favorite genres is a little different? Or will readers be disappointed that, for instance, something they found in the mystery section doesn't quite live up to their expectations, because it was a fantasy novel with mystery elements?

How much do you pay attention to genre when picking a book? Is it deliberate? Or more "natural selection" that your choices tend to be in some genres? If you're a genre-devotee, what does it take for you to read outside your preferred genre/s?

Forgotten Man

2011-07-29T05:19:00.000-07:00

I don't like getting political on my blog--or, really, at all in public, believing that politics, religion, and sex shouldn't be discussed in polite company, but if you must pick one, pick sex every time. Yet, the current crisis of budget and debt permeates our discussion here in the good ol' USofA, and one quietly occurring change is to the pension plans for US military members. This hasn't gotten a lot of press, but additional cuts may be cropping up in the future.

Which made me think about the past, naturally.

In the 1930s, with the hardships of the Depression bearing down on the nation, the veterans of WWI were pretty unhappy. Many were out of work, which they felt was poor repayment of their services, and their desperation culminated in the 1932 Bonus March, in which they demanded early payment on their delayed-bonus certificates (which were not due to mature until 1945, more than a decade and another World War later).

Though the Bonus March gets most of the press about veterans and WWI, perhaps it's fair to say that payment of the bonuses was the rallying issue rather than the only problem. This is, recall, before the GI Bill that promises education and loan benefits to veterans, and many Depression-era WWI veterans felt abandoned as they drifted without finding work.

Which brings us to Joan Blondell.

In the musical film Gold Diggers of 1933, the director makes an interesting choice--the final stage number of the story is, rather than a mere flashy song-and-dance scene, a tribute to those downtrodden vets, with a piece entitled "Forgotten Man."

Busby Berkeley, choreographer extraordinaire, said that he was inspired by the Bonus March in creating this number, which impressed producers so much they insisted it switch to the final scene and displace another musical number. He made another interesting choice in this sequence--the inclusion of Etta Moten, an African-American singer, alongside Blondell. In an era when black performers were often not included at all, or relegated to comedic bit parts, the front-and-center performance by a black woman is remarkably progressive. Berkeley also included people of color in another number in the show, "Pettin' in the Park."

The more we change, the more we stay the same, it seems...except our current political issues are rarely eloquently expressed through musical numbers. Which is, I think, quite a shame.

A Brief Lesson in Helping Others--Really Brief.

2011-07-27T12:18:00.000-07:00

I was having a crappy day. Crappy couple days, actually. Work's been a bit of a drag, just kind of having a rough time of it with some projects not going well.

Then a colleague randomly dropped by my office to ask how some building renovations were going, and then--out of the blue--said some very nice, very honest, very complimentary things about my work.

It took two minutes.

It made me blush.

My day got a lot better.

When's the last time you thought about telling someone they were doing a great job, or always make you smile, or even just look really nice today? When's the last time you actually sent the email or dropped by or said the nice things that were on your mind?

I was reminded today that we never really know the impact our kindness can have on others--I'm making it a point that, when I think someone needs to be recognized for whatever great thing (even if it's little) they're doing in this often crazy and difficult and sludgy world, I'll tell them. Not just think about how great they are. Sometimes helping someone out is as easy as saying what's on your mind.

Random PSA over. Sorry for pontificating. Back to your regularly scheduled awesomeness.

Vacation and Scenic Inspiration

2011-07-24T13:19:00.000-07:00

Apologies for the radio silence the past week--I was on vacation. Though there was an abundance of wildlife and hiking trails, gorgeous mountain scenery, and (score!) a nice clean pool, there was a distinct shortage of internet and, even, cell service.

Which was fine by me.

I spent the whole week reading, hiking, swimming, and learning about western Appalachian stuff including whiskey. (Given whiskey's historical nature, I may have to devote a post to "Interesting Things I Discovered about Whiskey" in the near future.)

Still, I packed my laptop, just in case. Mr. Hyaline asked if I planned to write on the trip--I didn't, really. "Oh," he said. "Just if you get inspired by the scenery?"

I laughed at him. I'm not, I replied, one of "those kinds" of writers who gets inspired by every little thing. Pshaw, as if landscape could spur my creativity.

I'm tough enough to admit I was wrong.

And I now have a setting for the third book in the little series I'm a' writin', plus a very, very rough outline. Plus a lot of motivation and excitement.

I couldn't spend five minutes gazing out over the bluff edge from our dinky lodge room balcony without seeing one of my main characters madly in love with this place.

I imagined narrow escapes on fast-moving rivers, and sweat-plastered treks up the sides of steep ridges.

Forests heavy-laden with mosquitos and enemy troops alike. (Our hikes revealed only mosquitos, no enemy pickets.)

And always, always, low, lush, green mountains envelopped in shrouds of mist and cloud.

Well, I learned my lesson. Don't knock it lest ye find yourself falling wholeheartedly into it. So, yes, I was inspired by scenery. I can't wait to visit these places again--even if I only do so by sketching them into words on a page.

How about you? Does travel, or scenery, or landscape inspire your creativity? If you could escape wherever you like to engage in whatever creative activity you wanted, where would you go and what would you create?

Is It Dystopian? Methinks Perhaps Not.

2011-07-15T10:43:00.001-07:00

So, ya'll know that I've been working away at a post-apocalyptic project. Which means, of course, that I've been reading a lot of post-apocalyptic books to get myself grounded in what's out there. And one detail has me thoroughly confused.

The line between Post-Apocalyptic and Dystopian. It seems to me that many books that I would call Post-Apocalyptic or perhaps even speculative are labelled as Dystopian. I've said in describing my project that it's post-post-apocalyptic and pre-dystopian--it's the story of how the emerging society after life as we know it is kaput tries to prevent the world from going down Ye Darke Road of Dystopia. So, clearly, I enjoy confusing these things more than is truly necessary.

There are some great articles already out there: This flowchart is hilarious, and this blog series explores a lot more deeply than I'm able to today.

But for me? When I think of "Dystopia" I think of the exact opposite of "Utopia." Or, perhaps more precisely, I think of Utopia gone horribly awry. And when I say "Utopia" I mean, in all seriousness, the 1516 book by Thomas More.

Yep.

You thought I wasn't going to go all historical on you today.

Thomas More wrote a rather scary story that was not intended to be frightening about a nonexistent but plausible place in which all of society's ills had been cured. Make no mistake--he is not subtle about this. You know how sometimes you see an allusion to a problem in modern society in sci-fi and are shown how it's been solved? Yep, More's not so crafty--his Part One is a discourse, in the form of a conversation, about What's Wrong with Kids These Days (or, less flippantly, problems of government, use of funds, crime, etc). In Utopia, set vaguely in the New World, these problems have all been addressed, and More describes the solutions and lifestyle.

I said this was a slightly scary story. It is, from a critical point of view. Conformity, control, and enforced communal living are a basis of the invented world. (My personal favorite tidbit--in Utopia, pre-marital sex is punished by lifelong celibacy--try being that parole officer.) But it's not meant to be scary--in More's depiction of Utopia, everyone is hunky-dory with the world they live in, the rulers don't abuse their power, and you, as a reader in sixteenth century England, are supposed to be dazzled by their radical but great ideas and wish you were a Utopian. In fact, my college lit course was split over whether we'd like to live there--and I, even as part of the "heck no" camp, feel I was at least partially influenced by the lessons of the great dystopian books more than an aversion to More's general idea.

Because you know, it could work. The right conditions, the right leadership, could make this society a pleasant one to live in. The wrong conditions, however, the wrong leadership--and it's a terrifying world.

This is where the classic dystopian novels--Fahrenheit 451, 1984, Brave New World--get it right. They take a society created to be perfect and make that pursuit of perfection the downfall. Because to enforce perfection, a society needs perfect control. That, I think more than anything else, is what we react to, what we rebel against when reading good dystopian fiction. Yes, the soma holidays in Brave New World appall the reader with an aversion to substance abuse--but it's the carefully created genetic reproductions and the claustrophobic need to toe society's line that really grab us. And you know, they do it without zombies or viruses or anything else to spur them. It happens because people wanted it that way. **Shiver**

(I could wax poetic about how dystopian literature's heavy hitters came out in the first half the 20th century, amidst social movements that scared people and fears of communism. But I won't, because you can draw your own conclusions.)

What about the books that had be confused? When I applied my historically-inspired definition, the classifications clarified for me. For instance--Whither. I read this recently, and while it was a great story, I'm not calling it dystopian. Why? Society was reeling from a biological disaster and the after-effects of widespread war, struggling to get by--not oppressing everyone still around in the name of the good of all. People had the freedom to do as they chose--limited by their circumstances, but still free. It was crappy, sure. But it wasn't, in my view, dystopian. I'd contrast this with the Hunger Games trilogy--I would classify this as dystopian, because the main challenge in living in Panem was not apocalyptic-y survival issues, but lack of agency enforced by the government. The Capitol's control spurs the conflict.

So--my final answer to what is and isn't dystopian: Crappy situation isn't the same as dystopian. Futuristic crappy situation, still not the same. Dystopian societies are deliberate, not created by apocalyptic happenstance. Dystopian societies are marred by the imbalance of freedom, by the pursuit of perfection resulting in the surrender (consensual or forced) of individual agency for communal or governmental control.

And my story? Not dystopian. But the threat of it serves as a motivation for the central conflict.

What do you think? Does my definition miss key points? (Answer: I'm sure it does!) What's the best dystopian book you've read? What about a book billed as dystopian that you'd call something else?

Giant Grasshoppers and Your Story : B Movie Sci-Fi and Writing, Part III

2011-07-14T06:00:00.000-07:00

Why Biting Off More than You Can Chew Leads to a Tobacco-Juice-Stained Mess of a Manuscript but Still Isn't All Bad

I've blogged before about my love of B movies and the lessons they can impart to the fiction writer. I dissected the plot of Plan Nine from Outer Space to to discover what didn't work (answer? Nothing worked). I examined the effectiveness of the characters in Eegah (conclusion: when a hairy man-beast from a prehistoric era is your most likeable character, you have a problem).

Last night I indulged in The Beginning of the End, a bad rip-off of Them, in which 1950s hysteria over atomic anything resulted in a movie about a cloud of giant locusts swarming Chicago.

I love a good giant bug movie. Them, The Deadly Mantis, Horrors of Spider Island. All good stuff. In a really bad way. But they can illustrate very well the age-old principle of biting off more than you can chew.

Lesson? If you can't swallow an entire swarm of giant locusts, don't bite one. Or something like that.

So the plot is skimpy, the characters are sketches. I'm not going to nitpick this, because in your average movie about giant bugs, let's be honest--you're going for the giant bugs. Yes, the plot could have been better drawn and we could have had real, rounded characters instead of caricatures. But the problem--the real problem--with End were the bugs themselves.

It seems the creators of the film had just discovered that you could superimpose one film on another, and voila! Giant grasshoppers attacking stock footage of soldiers! Perfect!

Except...it doesn't quite work. In fact, it doesn't work at all. You just get random large bugs scuttling across the screen and not actually interacting with anything.

OK, so we can't be one-trick ponies. I know! We'll have the bugs scale a building! How to pull that off...Yes! We'll have a few grasshoppers climb a postcard of a building! That will work!

Except...the bugs are constantly stepping off the "building", which has a slightly odd glare to it.

What does this have to do with writing? After all, writers aren't special-effects artists. We don't have to worry about low budgets or non-existent technology.

But we still have to know our limits.

I might get crucified for saying this. Still, here's the thing--we're not limited by tech capabilities or dollars in our craft, but we are limited by talent, craft, and know-how. I'm speaking from experience here, not pointing fingers at anyone but myself. Not every idea a writer has is an idea he or she can pull off--at least not yet.

Confession time: one of my drawer novels is a multi-POV project that dealt with a lot of different issues, complicated plotlines, and twists I hoped no one would see coming. There's some good writing in there--I honestly do believe that. But as a whole, it's not there yet. It's not there because I wasn't there when I wrote it. Maybe someday I could revise it and it could be sparkling. Much more likely? I'm going to revise it and pare it down to something I can tackle at the skill level I'm currently at as a writer.

That's the thing about writing--a lot of other creative crafts, too. Unlike athletic prowess or beauty-queen competitions, your abilities as a writer will only improve and expand with time, experience and practice. What you're not able to pull off now--maybe it's a deeply nuanced character or a rip-roaring plot--is something you'll grow into.

What I'm not saying, however, is that you don't try the stuff you can't handle. We don't grow if we don't push ourselves. Write the stuff you're not sure you can do. Dive in. Try it. When it's done, and it's a giant grasshopper mess, don't try to peddle it to the world a la The Beginning of the End. One of the greatest skills in any art is to know when you have a haunting, stunning giant bug film--and when you have a reel of celluloid covered in tobacco juice.*

Practically speaking, this is where flash fiction, short stories, and other non-novel length works can be your friend. Devoting the time to write a novel that's over your head--that's commitment to something rather shaky. (Still not saying it's bad to take the risk--but you don't have to if you don't want to.) But a short story? Experiment. Learn. Grow.

*Other people call the nasty, staining brown spit that grasshoppers produce tobacco juice, right? Or am I a hillbilly?

The Importance of Underpinnings

2011-07-12T06:31:00.000-07:00

I could subtitle this post "When Costuming and Writing Collide," because I'm going to talk about my two loves today. Last weekend I took a short trip with my extended family, which was a blast--they're the sort of nutty, wonderful family that takes a full five minutes to start in on laughing at how Grandma used to frequent the local topless nightclub because they had good steak.

Anyway.

On our brief foray, we ended up doing something that, surprisingly, I've never done before: we attended a Civil War reenactment. It was a very small affair and it was kind of funny to be on the other side. I refrained from asking every costumed individual "Are those clothes hot?" and "Are you really going to eat that?" but I did enjoy being an observer.

And one thing I noticed, that I've noticed in my own reenacting group, was the importance of underpinnings. Several ladies attended, most with lovely reproduction gowns, but only one woman I saw was wearing a proper corset under her gown.

I could have picked her out of a lineup as being the one who was dressed "right." Yes, I have a trained eye. But I bet you could spot the difference, too, even if you don't have much experience with historical clothing.

I want to reiterate--it was a great event and I am not in any way pointing fingers at these ladies. It was goshawful hot, and corsets are one of the more expensive or difficult things to make or purchase, so if you're starting out, you might not have one yet. Still. The look doesn't lie--with a corset, historical snapshot. Without, lumpy costume.

What the heck does this have to do with writing, you might ask?

Well, I'm going to take a quick tangent to answer that. My husband and I watch a lot of sci-fi--he really loves sci-fi, and I geek out a little on the "softer" sci-fi (I cop to loving Stargate). So we've been watching Stargate on Netflix for awhile, and the alien costumes are always bugging me. And I can't place why. I mean, they're often a little corny, and I swear that one of the races has potholders glued to their shoulders. But something else was off.

They're all wearing modern American underpinnings. That is, I assume this, despite generally not seeing alien skivvies, because the silhouette is built around a modern American silhouette.

How unrealistic is that? Every alien race we encounter would have come up with Hanes? No one would wear corsets? Or chest bindings? Or no underthings (no worries, that link is perfectly safe!)?

So how to apply this to writing. Unless you're writing modern America, don't write your characters in modern American underwear. This might seem trivial, except:

1) Underpinnings dictate the silhouette and shape of the outer clothing. So if clothes are a big thing in the world you're writing, whether it be historical, fantasy, or science fiction, know that the basics are more important than the details when it comes to the final product. Not saying you have to share all this with the reader. But you should know so you can accurately depict your characters' wardrobes if need be.

2) Underpinnings dictate how you move. A person is going to move differently in three layers of petticoats and a tightly-laced corset than in a 1920s style corselet. Think about how the clothes shape movement. If you're wearing stockings, you're careful not to get them snagged. If you've got a codpiece on...well, I've never worn a codpiece, but I'm sure it does something to your movement. Now, this isn't to say that all underpinnings are restricting--I've thoroughly bashed that point in this post. But--something to consider as you "block" your scenes.

3) Underpinnings reflect societal norms, ideals, and expectations. Ok, how about some fun image associations? When you see these women, what characteristics do you think of?

Image One: Early 19th Century:

Image Two: Mid-19th Century:

For me, on the first image, I think of natural, sensual, simplicity. The second, I think of delicate, feminine, romantic. Quite a bit of that is informed by the shape of the dress--in the first, simple brassiere-like corded corsets and minimal petticoats formed a simple, natural shape. In the second, an hourglass corset and domed hoop skirt or petticoats formed a romantic, exaggerated feminine shape. These external displays reflected societal preferences. And while the decor on the outside of the gowns supports this, it all starts with the underthings.

If you're a costumer, do you put underthings first? Or am I off my nut? If you're a writer, have you ever written about underpinnings, or thought about them in your world-building? Any great examples you'd like to share?

Join the Party!

2011-07-11T10:02:00.001-07:00

One of my delightful critique partners, Haley Whitehall, is working at a fever-pace to unveil her new website this week. In spite of all the hard word this has entailed, she's up for a celebration, and is inviting everyone interested in a historically inspired, spirited good time to join the party!

The bash is going down on Twitter--just use the Twitter hashtag #LightonHistory on July 14 to get in on the fun!

Read more at Haley's blog! And yes, I'll be there with bells--or maybe a fab costume--on!

Thinking about Schedules

2011-07-07T07:09:00.000-07:00

This summer is making me think about schedules. Schedules for writing, deadlines for sewing, to-do lists at work to check off. See, there's something about summer that, even as a grown-up person without a summer vacation, invokes a sort of free-wheeling, schedule shredding attitude. But I've found I work better with something to guide my time--a plan of when I'll do what, or a list of tasks, or a goal that I absolutely, positively can't fail to meet.

Which brings me to a more particular musing.

I tend to blog on a regularly irregular basis. That is to say, no real schedule, but I blog two-three times a week. And no set topics: I blog about whatever I'm thinking about, any particular day. Blogging habits are interesting--some bloggers blog every day, unfailingly, or blog according to other prescribed schedules (MWF, for instance). Some bloggers have daily themes or topics they stick to.

I can see the benefit of a schedule, making you accountable to yourself and your readers. I can also see the downside--I blog because I enjoy it, and don't want to turn it into a chore. Would a regular schedule tie me down? Would selecting specific topics for specific days--ie, Writing on Mondays, Sewing on Thursdays--kill the blog's spirit? (Do blogs have spirits that can be broken?) What do you, as readers, think?

Do you prefer reading blogs with regular schedules?

And another thought--what about regular topics? As a reader, I enjoy knowing I can find a particular feature from a favorite blogger on a weekly basis. At the same time, can these topics start to feel too rigid or flat? Are there some topics that just don't have enough flavor to sustain a weekly meal? If I were to pick up a more regular topical schedule, what topics would you want to see featured regularly?

If I were to blog on a regular schedule, what topics would you prefer to see me cover?

Well, that said--I'm heading off for a long weekend with family, then will be back for only a little while before taking a week's vacation with the Mister. This poll is open for a week--let me know what you think and throw any other ideas into the comments!

Tension Makes the Dance

2011-07-05T05:40:00.000-07:00

I like stretched comparisons. So when my husband and I were practicing our lindy in the kitchen the other night, and I was paying some extra attention to the tension in our arms and torsos, I started to think about how that related to writing, too. In particular--how tension, as it does in dancing, defines the movement between two partners in a written relationship.

First up--in partnered swing dancing, we use "tension" to mean the body position of both partners, the connection between the two partners, and how the lead's movements direct the follow and the follow responds. (By the way, I use "lead and follow" not "guy and girl" because leads can be girls and follows can be guys! Plus, it's more descriptive of what the roles actually do, and it's not a gender thing--it's a dance thing.) In really good partnered dancing, there aren't "cues" to follow most of the time--where the lead places himself or herself dictates--without so much as a hint--where the follow will go. If, of course, there's good tension.

Body Position Different dances require different proper body positions--in swing, it's athletic and at the ready, more springy than erect. Both partners have to have the right posture for the dance to work at its best. What about writing? Well, if you're going to write a relationship between two characters, you need two characters. I may have just made what seems to be a "duh" statement--but how many drafts, or even published works, have you read where one of the characters doesn't stand up on his or her own? Both characters need good posture, and it needs to be right posture for the relationship. You're going to have a really awkward dance if one person is in upright ballroom position and the other is in athletic, slightly crouched lindy stance. They'll have to learn to dance together if they start out in different postures!

The Connection The connection in dance refers to the places where the lead and follow touch. Take a look at Fred and Ginger:

Their connection points are at Ginger's back where Fred's hand is, at Fred's shoulder where Ginger's hand is, and their clasped hands. The most obvious connection point is the clasped hands--you see these the most in the fancy moves, because she's going to turn under his arm and he'll appear to be leading her with that hand most of the time.

He's not. It's a lie. The strongest connection point is his hand on her back. When you have a good connection, a follow should feel like the lead's hand is glued to her back except when he wants it gone, and she'll try to keep the hand where it's supposed to be. This will direct a lot of her movement--where he goes, she goes; if he turns, she goes where the hand directs her to go, which may be away from him or with him.

So, where do your characters connect? Is is an obvious but superficial spot like the hands? If you lose your grip, the you've got no other connection. Or is it a more solid spot, allowing them to communicate and dance together? This is one place where writers often develop the relationship through the story--you see the hands only at first, but the plot reveals or creates other ways the two are connected.

One other point--with good connection, the movement is organic, borne out of the connection and the lead's movement. The lead isn't shoving or pulling the follow. So, too, with your characters--one character shouldn't feel like he or she is forcing the other (unless that's a particular issue your characters are going to have to work out).

The Tension Itself So here's the thing--you can have good posture and a great connection, but still no tension. Tension is the resistance that the partners give each other. If one person has noodle arms, you have no tension, and the lead can't tell the follow to do anything. Imagine a cooked noodle--you push on it, it just flops. On the flip side, too much tension and you'll be too stiff to communicate with. The lead can't get through to a too-tense follow, and a follow can't tell if she's being led to do anything if the lead's tension is too heavy. Imagine a piece of uncooked spaghetti--push it too much and it breaks.

So, basically, characters can't be noodles, cooked or uncooked.

To make a relationship enjoyable to read--to make it a real dance--there needs to be tension. When the lead pushes, the follow gives--a little. Not all the way. This keeps them developing the relationship--too much tension and there's no give, no keeping the reader involved in the hopes that something will develop. Too little tension and the story just folds on itself--it's a done deal before it's really begun to develop.

And one more thing...it's supposed to be fun! (See, these folks dancing at the Savoy are having fun.) Sure, any developing relationship will have its angst--dancing with a new partner means getting used to all their little nuances and learning the moves they know that you don't. You're going to bonk your follow in the head or step on your lead's toes. But if it's all head-bonks and toe steps in your story, your readers are going to get bored. They want some fun, too--not just angst.

If your favorite romantic pairing in a book, or your current WIP's characters, danced out their relationship, what dance would it be?

Your Real Education Came from the School Bus

2011-06-29T05:43:00.000-07:00

The WSJ Writer strikes again. Remember last time I was rather willing to concede a few points to her? I still appreciate her concerns and recognize that they're coming from a good place, but this article really struck me as taking a turn too far in the wrong direction. A couple points made me think for the rest of the evening after reading, and I hope you don't mind indulging me as I ramble on them a bit.

One was referring to YA readers as "children." By the time I was twelve, I no longer considered myself a "child" in the same sense that I did when I was six. And certainly we're stretching a bit to apply the term "child" to a sixteen-year-old reader. The fact is, perhaps it is the perceived age of the readers themselves that is most troubling to Ms. Gourdon. They do not see themselves as children even if their parents or teachers would like to apply that label. And already we see the appeal of many of these stories--they treat the reader as capable, able to comprehend a more complex world than a child can. Beyond this, they show similarly aged protagonists learning agency and taking ownership of their own futures. Contrast this with a middle-aged woman who wants to call you a child, and we'll see where the readers fall every time.

This is only tertiary to what I found myself really chewing on after reading the article, but perhaps vital to understanding what I considered next.

The author notes that "Well-intentioned messages, in other words, can have the unintended consequence of opening the door to expectations and behaviors that might otherwise remain closed."

Really? These doors would have stayed closed? Where does Ms. Gourdon think that young people learn about the darker side of the world? School? Their parents? That these more difficult elements stay locked in a neat box until the individual's 18th birthday?

I'll tell you where I learned about the darker stuff in my young life.

The school bus.

Most of my real education came from the school bus. I learned about pot from our resident stoner, and discovered that, handily, it was quite true what one hears about "the munchies" when I pawned off my lunch leftovers on him every day. (This was in my mother's Mrs. Claus "You don't eat enough, you're too skinny, EAT, EAT!" phase when she insisted on packing me lunches equal to my own body weight.) I learned about cutting because a friend was, for a short time before seeking help, a cutter. I learned the struggles of schizophrenia and that anti-psychotic medications can cause crazy weight gain when the kid who lived the next street up ballooned fifty pounds in a couple months.

I learned about all these things whether teachers or my parents let me in on them or not. And I learned them better than I could have from my parents or teachers, because, intrinsic in all these lessons was another facet: These were all people.

They were real people, with more elements to their personalities than just "kid with mental problems" or "kid who smokes too much pot" or "self-destructive kid with self-mutilation issues." We laughed together, sneaked snacks onto the bus together, made fun of our insane cranky bus driver together. Was I ever tempted to engage in any of these "deviant" activities? No--I saw how dumb pot made Resident Stoner in a way I couldn't have from a textbook.

The point is, a good book can be a lot like a school bus full of peers. You can learn about those darker elements of life while understanding that those who engage in destructive, dangerous, or deviant behavior are people, too.

And that's an important lesson. Resident Stoner eventually grew up, joined the Marines and the church, and became what society would call respectable. But even before that, I knew that he was a good person who just happened to have some faults. Like everyone else. His just happened to be more visible. Same with the rest of the cast of misfits.

So what is it that YA literature can teach that probably shouldn't stay locked up, behind closed doors? That people struggling with issues are people. That they could be a friend, a sibling, could be you. Books show this in a way that other venues just plain can't.

I still say that there may be examples out there where sensationalism is, if not the goal, the end result, and that this trend toward darker issues does set us up to make sensationalism that much easier to fall into. I still say that I think the trend toward darker stories may be excluding perfectly good "lighter" stories that happen to not be trending right now. But in the end, young adults read to experience and learn what they don't experience and learn in their own lives. And books are a perfect medium for exploration while maintaining an outlook that embraces humanity.

...And Called it Macaroni

2011-06-28T05:14:00.000-07:00

With Fourth of July nearly upon us, I thought I'd take a moment to look at that patriotic American favorite, Yankee Doodle. Everyone knows that the line "stuck a feather in his cap and called it macaroni" was a jab at provincial colonial fashion sense, as "Macaroni" was a term for high-fashion gentlemen. Yet, the term also carried derisive notes--contemporaries poked fun at the Macaronis:

There is indeed a kind of animal, neither male nor female, a thing of the neuter gender, lately started up among us. It is called a macaroni. It talks without meaning, it smiles without pleasantry, it eats without appetite, it rides without exercise, it wenches without passion.

Remember when the term "metrosexual" first came into being, and though plenty of people made fun of the feminized look, plenty of men still imitated it (and plenty of ladies still liked it)?

Yeah, seems it was kinda like that.

So not only is Yankee Doodle not pulling the look off very well, he's attempting to engage in an avant-garde, not-quite-socially normative group.

You know how there were those kids in your high school who didn't quite fit in, so tried to fit in with the goth kids or the stoner kids or the Under-the-Stairs Kids (my school had big stairs and all the alternative-types congregated there)? But that didn't quite work, either?

Yeah, that's how bad off Yankee Doodle is.

Of course, the rebelling colonists adopted the song as their own and turned the meaning on its head. Somewhat of a "we don't want your stinkin' Macaroni fashion, we'll stick our feathers where we please, thank you!" (Please imagine a British regular attempting not to laugh at that line and then offering to tell Yankee Doodle where to stick it...) Of course, by the height of the Revolution, Macaroni fashion was becoming a touch passe.

Let's enjoy some satirical prints of Macaronis, shall we?

An obscene amount of hair, ludicrously skinny physique, and giant sword bow (talk about symbolic--it was considered improper for a man to go about unarmed, but the Macaroni has found a way make even that symbol of masculinity his own) seem to be the standard for the Macaroni.

The Macaroni Family Returning from Church. I love the kids pointing and laughing in the foreground. Pointing and laughing--the ridicule that transcends all time.

The Macaroni Painter, or Billy Dimple sitting for his Picture. You know, not every man can pull off a gigantic cravat-bow like Billy here.

Do you wonder if these gentlemen, somewhere around 1785, looked back and though "Oh my goodness, what was I thinking?!?" the way we tend to do with the 80s?

First Page Contest--Come Play!

2011-06-26T11:06:00.000-07:00

Shelley Watters is sponsoring a very cool first page contest at her blog. Now, I know what you're thinking--that the cool part is the prize: a critique from an agent. Nope, that's not the cool part (ok, though it is kinda cool). The cool part is what's going on right now--you post your first page on your blog (mine's in its own page--eeeep! scary that it's out there for the world!) and then hop around to other participants to critique and share. Fun!

Writers, come play! There's still time to join the fun.

First pages are such fun--it's like a literary speed date, getting to see the first glimmers of character and plot, and a big dose of the author's voice. I'm loving the variety I'm getting to read and comment on as part of this contest!

First Things First: Writing and Editing

2011-06-23T08:41:00.001-07:00

Sometimes it's pretty clear when to do what. I crack the eggs BEFORE putting them in the cookie batter.I cut fabric AFTER I take measurements. I lather, rinse, THEN repeat.

And of course, first pants, THEN shoes.

But when it comes to the writing process, it's not so cut and dried. The posters in my elementary school classrooms would beg to differ--they say you "prewrite" (which inevitably involved bubbles and arrows in my grammar school days), write a rough draft, revise it, which produces another draft, which you edit and polish into a final draft.

Anyone else feel like it's not so simple?

Now, I know writers who do keep it simple--they butt-in-chair, hands-on-keyboard plow through a full first draft before going back to tinker with it. They draft by Just Writing.

I've heard of other writers who will make their daily cycle editing the previous day's work, then writing new material. Or writing first thing in the morning, then editing in the afternoon.

Some writers write half of their first draft, then reevaluate it and revise it before moving on. Some folks write the end first, and then string together other scenes, then revise to smooth out the bumps.

Some writers make each chapter perfect before moving on to the next chapter.

Me? I have no idea when the best time to start revising is. For my own writing, it's fairly constant. I write a sentence, I change a couple words, I keep going, I hit a stride, I'm still on a pattern of type-type-type-delete-delete-retype. And then as I read through scenes to get me in the right frame of mind for writing on, I'm still swapping and changing and adding and deleting. It's part of a pretty organic process for me--it makes first drafts take a while, but the revision stage is--at least has been thus far--easier. Revision ends up being more about big-picture issues than individual scene or language troubles. Which has its own set of drawbacks: Sometimes I delete well-polished material.

But that works for me.

So all I can really say, when it comes to writing and editing, is, essentially, Pants First, THEN Shoes: Words First, THEN Edit. It doesn't matter when, or how many words, or how long between writing them and starting to tinker with them. Just write them. Then make them better.

What's your writing-editing-later-rinse-repeat process?

Shoe Bling, Historical Style

2011-06-21T05:42:00.000-07:00

Think modern fashonistas invented shoe bling?

Think again--eighteenth century ladies added high style to their shoes with bedazzled buckles:

All three buckle images are from the Met Museum's online collection database. All three are also "paste" which is essentially eighteenth-century speak for costume jewelry. They're cut glass set into metal backings; paste jewelry could also include colored paper to change the color of the "jewels." Buckles were removable, as well--so while these gems may not be real, they could be transferred from shoe to shoe or salvaged when the shoes were trashed.

I'm excited--my silk shoes from American Duchess are due to arrive this summer, and I ordered a pair of my very own paste buckles to add some extra flair.

Soundtrack to a Novel

2011-06-17T08:04:00.000-07:00

Until I started writing The Currently Complete Project (I'm calling it The Courier--fun title, eh?) and its little sisters, The WIP and The Outline, I was not a "listen to music while writing" person. I was a "silence is golden" person. I was a "crickets and traffic noise will distract me" person.

And then music just clicked with this project. Maybe it was the higher action content or the quicker pace. Maybe it was that it's young adult and music resonates with that part of me that's still seventeen. Regardless--I had to have my soundtrack.

A few key pieces:

First up, I should probably admit I may be the only person under the age of 50 who truly loves Jethro Tull, but I do. And Heavy Horses is my favoritest album ever, and the title track is incredible. Really, "HeavyHorses" and The Courier are about a lot of the same things...but I'd ruin both if I tried to extrapolate on that. No, I'll let Tull do that for me:

And one day when the oil barons have all dripped dry
and the nights are seen to draw colder
...
In these dark towns folk lie sleeping
as the heavy horses thunder by
to wake the dying city
with the living horseman's cry

But even more than lyrics that sing straight to my story, it's the album's folk-influenced rock and earthy sensibility that evokes both my main character and my setting. Earthy. Slightly dirty and raw. Unpolished but thoughtful.

Next up? The soundtrack from Last of the Mohicans. The beautiful music with a dark current winding under it, and the grandiose sweep of the melodies--plus I can't help but see the lush green setting of the film when I hear the music. Put me in the mood to write every time. Especially the piece entitled, curiously enough, The Courier (I swear my title came first, then the connection with this piece!)

Corndog warning--when I hear this piece, I can see my main character, Norah, deftly picking her way through bracken and fallen branches as she runs through the forest--Corndog warning lifted.

Finally, much to the chagrin of Mr. Hyaline, who is tired of this album getting played in the car, I am a giant Fleet Foxes fan. Again with the earthy folk-ish rock, much like Tull. But with Crosby, Stills, and Nash on vocals. I digress. Anyhow, their "Your Protector" totally conjured the romantic storyline dynamic for me. Because independence/dependence and protection/insecurity are huge themes for these characters. OK, enough thematic pontificating. Onto the music. It's way better than me yammering:

Are there any pieces of music that resonate with your creative projects? Do you have a touchpoint song that charges your creative juices? Or are you a "silence is golden" person when creating?

The Hat of Win in Action

2011-06-16T05:24:00.001-07:00

It may not be the best shot ever. But it's the only shot I have of the Hat of Win. A friend forwarded me this photo, snapped during a tactical demonstration when my young friend and I had the ever-auspicious task of Guarding the Box. This perennially-exciting challenge comes in when the artillery unit has to leave the piece and go do manly deeds elsewhere on the field. Because we don't like to leave several pounds of highly explosive black powder unattended, those of us lingering at the back with water and supplies come hang out with the box. Plus, the box gets lonely.

Sadly, though I have the Hat of Win, my young friend lost her cap in the excitement. We found it later, but she's bare-headed here. I promise she isn't usually such a slattern....

And the contraption draped unflatteringly over my shoulder? Portfire holders. Portfires are road-flare like flaming sticks that we use to fire the cannon. Lacking an extra man-at-arms, I got to tote the extras around and light the new ones when the one the firing position was using went out. It's not a glamorous job. It's even less glamorous when you run out of slow match (rope soaked in a chemical solution that makes it burn slow and very hot) and have to use magic fire instead.

Magic fire:

Summertime Diversions--on the Lake in 1780

2011-06-15T10:50:00.001-07:00

This print made me smile. Maybe it's the idyllic summer scene. Maybe it's that the gentleman seems to have inadvertently begun using his sword as a rudder. Maybe it's the hilariously beefy arms of Miss Peggy Pullaway.

Actually, I think it's the ladies fishing in the background. Which raises to mind...are the ladies fishing an extension of the gender reversal seen in the boat? Or is fishing an acceptable leisure activity for 18th century ladies? I've my opinions--what are yours?

Regardless, I love the hat of the woman appraising her catch.

Print from the Lewis Walpole Library.

Coily the Spring Sprite: Laughable Nostalgia on a Dull Tuesday

2011-06-14T18:36:00.001-07:00

Some days you just need a good laugh.

Coily the Spring Sprite can provide that.

Presenting "A Case of Spring Fever," a 1950s short about the importance of springs (!) that will make you wonder who thought it was vital to make an educational film about the importance of springs.

Sometimes nothing beats a good, incomprehensibly weird bit of nostalgia from the vault.

This short is part of an MST3K full-length presentation. But really--Coily is absurd and hilarious enough even without the commentary.

Cries of London--Strawberries and Clothing Breakdown

2011-06-09T06:30:00.000-07:00

I've mentioned before that I love the Cries of London print series. A quick and dirty background on these--they're a set of prints created by artist Francis Wheatley in the early 1790s. Fascinated by London street culture, he created this series of street vendors plying their trades.

"Strawberries" is one of my favorites. Mainly? For the clothes. It's not that the girl here is wearing anything particularly noteworthy--in fact, it's that her clothes are so ordinary and banal that I love this depiction so much. It's a wonderful snapshot of a lower-class, likely rural woman's dress--something we rarely get from period artwork. So--for one, it's a great lesson on basic late 18th century clothing. A quick breakdown, shall we?

Our young lady is wearing the requisite shift, with the loose sleeves rolled up just past her elbows. She also wears a boned, sleeveless garment of some kind--the verbal ambiguity of clothing terms has me at a loss as to whether to call it a bodice or to assume it's a pair of jumps, but regardless--a sleeveless, boned garment. With the shoulders covered, I can't tell if it has straps or not, but the high back and the way it disappears behind her arm suggest to me that it might have straps. This is significant to me as a researcher, because a common "ism" of reenactors is that women "never" appeared in public wearing only stays, and that there were no other sleeveless garments. Clearly, that's not the case--and though she is a lower-class woman, she is not a slattern (professional nor hobbyist), either. (Of course, the practical question becomes how, exactly, to properly recreate and--even more difficult--wear a sleeveless outer garment.)

She also wears a lightweight white kercheif tucked into the front of the garment. This is useful for three reasons. One, it prevents too much sun exposure (I've saved myself many a sunburn using a kercheif.) Two, it keeps one from being too revealing. And three--doesn't it look fetching?

Her hat ensemble is worth noting--she wears a white, ruffled cap and what looks to be a worn, droopy felt hat over it. Felt hats could be made very fashionably, with stiff broad brims like a straw hat. However, get them wet too often, and they start to...drroooop. Which is what I assume has happened to this young lady, or that she's come by her hat second-hand.

She's wearing one visible petticoat--she may be wearing another that we can't see. She also wears her apron, a simple large workaday piece pleated onto what looks like a tape tie, rucked up. I was so pleased to find this particular print, because I love wearing my apron this way and it was nice to see that it's documentable that they did, too! Plus simple buckled shoes and basic stockings.

Something I learned while finding this print? The cute little cone-shaped basket she's holding is called a pottle, and was a measuring device. Though most fruits and vegetables were sold by the pound, strawberries were sold by the pottle. Which makes sense. Because strawberries, the girl selling them, the measuring basket itself, and the word "pottle" are all very, very adorable.

Lindens--Flash Fiction

2011-06-07T14:51:00.001-07:00

Remember how like three days ago I said I was going to suck it up and overcome my silencing stage fright? Perfect opportunity--Haley's June Flash Fiction challenge! I've never posted flash fiction before--so it fits my challenge ot myself! Plus, writing to Haley's prompt was really fun. I was inspired, mostly, by the deep scents of summertime drifting over my porch while I wrote.

Read up on the challenge and read last month's entries on Haley's post, but the gist--a 500 word flash fiction that starts out with body language. I think I made this one with a clear beginning, middle and end per the requirements (odd that this would be my uncertainty--you think it would be clear enough)--though it's a tiny snippet of what would be a larger story for the characters.

OK. Deep breath. Posting now.

Lindens

She closes her eyes as she inhales, leaning into the boughs of the linden as though she could envelop herself in the golden scent. Absently, she plucks a stem of milky-white blossoms and holds it to her nose, twirling it between her fingers. And then she sees me, holds me boldly in her gaze for a second, no more, then lowers her lashes, smiling with a faint blush on her cheek. Smiling as though I’ve caught her being very silly, being a child.

I am not quite sure she hasn’t known all along that I was watching her. I never did know, really, how much of what we had together she manufactured and how much I imposed.

“Lindens,” Anna says, by way of explanation. “They’re early this year.”

I nod, and suddenly the girl I’m with now is hanging on my arm, pulling me back toward the riverbank. Her voice is pitched too high and her dress, cut too low. I like that sort of girl now. Anna cured me of the other kind, the ethereal, wan, beautifully unreachable kind. The kind, too, that risks making a man love her. Anna catches the arm of the buxom woman in whose tow I am trapped, and chatters merrily with her. As though I am not there. Between the three of us, perhaps I am not.

The first stars scatter like sparks over the riverbank, and below us the dank brown water rolls, plodding and steady. The girl leans over me, breathing whiskey into my face and clamping a hand on my thigh to tell me what she wants.

She drags me off to her bed, and as I turn to leave I see Anna, backlit by both the moon and its reflection on the river. She raises her eyes to meet mine, just long enough to impart the profound shame I feel creeping into the pit of my stomach. Just long enough that I remember the brilliant blue of her eyes. Just long enough, and then her gaze is turned once more to the moonlit linden blossoms in her hand.

And I wonder, if I had known then that that image would be the last one I had of her, the blossoms caught between her fingers and their heady perfume surrounding her like a cloud, if I would have paid closer attention, remembered what she wore, when she smiled, what shade, precisely, her hair was when the moonlight caught it. But I’d imagined her from the beginning anyway. She was never who I cast her to be. She was merely Anna.

And if you like the idea of stretching yourself a little this month? Scurry over to Haley's blog and post your own entry!

Young Adult Fiction--Too Dark?

2011-06-06T06:33:00.000-07:00

I love the dialogue that the internet allows, between blogs and news sources and twitter and facebook and all the other outlets. My thinking is spurred every morning when I check my google reader and the headlines. Usually, though, those musings are kept under wraps, maybe informing a blog post someday, but not immediately shared.

Today is different. I had to react to this post by the inimitable Ms. Janet Reid, Sharky agent extraordinaire and to other impassioned posts floating around the interwebs. I fear I must disagree--or at least expound a bit on--this and many other eloquent assessment of Young Adult fiction and the place of dark themes within YA.

The post was in reaction to this article on YA fiction from the Wall Street Journal. In essence, the article bemoans the fact that the shelves of the teen section in bookstores are filled with dark, heavy topics. So, is that all right? And even if it is not detrimental, is it desirable?

Here's my thought. I agree with Ms. Reid that the dark stuff--the drug addiction, cutting, rape, and suicide on the contemporary side--is realistic and part of the world teens live in. I agree that they should be able to explore the challenges and nuances of their world through books. I agree that most YA spreads messages of building strength and character, and learning agency, as Ms. Reid says.

However.

I also agree with the original article--entertainment does more than satisfy current tastes, it creates tastes. Perhaps the ever-increasing darkness of YA lit is testament to this. YA readers grow to like dark subjects, more dark subjects sell. Here's the thing. I don't think that books about cutting will make teenagers cut, or that books about homicide will make readers into murderers. However, I do think that books about dark subjects to the exclusion of other--very normal, also very "real" if we must use those terms--subjects will create a view of the world that is darker and less inclined to seek humor, beauty, joy, and any other number of, albeit dorky, nouns.

My own perusal of the teen section at my local B&N left an impression nearly identical to the woman quoted at the beginning of the article. Yes, I found books that I would give to my teenaged acquaintances to read. Yet the overwhelming impact--even merely visual impact--of the shelves was dark. From my own adolescence, I recall bright, colorful, inviting book covers with optimistic storylines and rich fantasy worlds. There were dark stories, sure--I didn't gravitate toward them. But there was always something for me on the shelves, too.

Today? I'm not so sure. A teenager who wants to find a positive, escapist story has to wade through mountains of dark books--literally dark, with piles of black book covers. I appreciate that teenagers have fears about their world and want to explore those uncertainties through books. Most of the books on the shelves speak to those fears. Yet, they also have hopes and--dare we admit?--the need to escape occasionally, too. Where are the books appealing to those desires?

I don't think, of course, that this is exclusive to YA lit. It seems that the darker the subject of a "grown up" book or movie, the more likely to receive attention and accolades. And yes, great art and great literature can come from dark subjects. Yet it can also come out of light, joyful subjects. I fear that we're focusing on the dark side of realism to the exclusion of the bright.

It is incredible to me that those in the bookish world can continue to defend the gritty, the dark, the violent, the sexual, and the provocative against censorship without realizing that, by their permission and their choices in the business of buying and selling, they have censored by elimination the other side of the coin--the light and, often, equally provocative. I don't suggest censorship of the gritty, but I do suggest that, whether we like it or not, we're shaping the tastes and mindsets of the consumer by what we put out there. That responsibility is great enough for the general masses, but even greater for young people.

Because in the end, here's the thing--young adults aren't stupid. They're savvy. They're smart. They don't need to be spoon-fed sensationalism in order to find enjoyment in a book. Perhaps it's time for everyone involved in publishing young adult lit to step down from the vantage point of both yellow-journalism-esque lurid trend-chasing and overprotective parental censorship and do what we should be doing for everyone: Publishing good, meaty, provocative books on every end of the spectrum. (Edit--Which, I meant to say, I think is the goal of pretty much everyone involved, barring the assumed ever-present evil sub-minority.)

And for me? Writing YA for the first time? Writing, even a post-apocalyptic novel that's inherently NOT dark and depressing, but hopeful? It only reinforces my desire to keep writing what I'm writing--real, honest, yet not dark. Because I think there's a place for it.

Stage Fright and Silencing Myself

2011-06-02T10:50:00.001-07:00

I love reading blogs--I love seeing what all of you create with your fabrics and thread, your words and imaginations, your various mediums. Enjoying the beauty you all have created, however, implicates me a little. I don't share as much as I should.

Want to know why?

I'm afraid to.

No, really. I have awful stage fright. This would probably surprise most people who know me well--I don't exude the qualities of shyness most people associate with stage fright. I'm not afraid to speak my mind, I pipe up in board meetings, and I've never sweated giving a PowerPoint presentation to a class or a business meeting. But anything creative? Anything solely mine, created by me? I clam up.

I finally figured this out when I took piano in college. I considered my education lacking that I hadn't had piano (say that in the sort of voice you'd imagine from a Jane Austen character), and so took a couple semesters. I don't mean to sound boastful that I say I was always among the best in the class in terms of performance ability and music theory comprehension--really not trying to boast, it just aids in understanding what I'll say next. Because despite being quite competent in playing all my pieces, doing so in front of the class terrified me. I won't say I was anxious, or felt some trepidation--no, constricting, trembling fear is more like it.

Now, the moral of that story is that I overcame it. I pushed myself out of my comfortable bubble, took a few deep breaths, and forced myself to start playing. And a couple bars in, the music became more important than my fears.

Yet, I've noticed as well that I don't challenge myself anymore. My reenacting friends sing--a lot. At night, the instruments come out and we spend hours singing as a group and performing for one another. I'm perfectly happy singing along in large groups. Never, ever solos. Rarely duets or trios--and those terrify me enough that a liberal dose of scotch is required beforehand. I don't have a perfect voice, but respectable, even, dare I say it, a bit pretty and adequately trained--yet if I feel I can be heard, distinctly my voice by itself or among a few, I don't sing. Pretty effective metaphor--I silence myself out of fear.

I share only what makes me comfortable--not in an internet safety way, but in an emotional way. I don't post excerpts of my writing--because I think more than anything I fear being judged. Better to put nothing out there, right, than to put something out there and have it dismissed--or ignored?

No, not really. You don't grow if you don't challenge yourself--and getting over my fear of sharing my creative endeavors is a challenge I need to face. Getting over my fear of sharing my mistakes, my foibles, ultimately, my proud moments. Why? For one, if I want to be a published writer, I have to be willing to stand proudly with my work--not hide behind it. For another, in a puritanical "hardship strengthens us" sort of way, it's good for me.

So--I'm challenging myself. Every fortnight--roughly--I'll post something that makes me nervous to share. Perhaps a piece of flash fiction, perhaps a sewing project gone awry.

I will not be posting vlogs of me singing, though. Just fair warning. Not happening.

How about you? Are you afraid to share what you've created? Or does sharing come as a natural extension of the process for you? Any great overcoming stage fright stories to share?

First Attempts--Drafting from Another Angle

2011-06-01T08:12:00.000-07:00

The school I work for is in the middle of a huge branding campaign. We're a confusing little entity in the university system, and are trying to get our name and message out to students in a way that, well, makes sense. So the Powers That Be hired a creative consulting firm to work with us.

In today's meeting, they shared Thing One and Thing Two--their first two attempts at marketing materials. Their presenter discussed how excited they were about the first attempt, the thought process that went into it, the innovative design ideas.

When he lifted up the posterboard, there was a quiet, restrained, but definite communal cringe.

That's first drafts for you.

First drafts are important--they get the ideas on paper, they start the creative juices flowing, they make a first stab. Sometimes they're pretty good, and give you a great head start. Sometimes they totally stink. It's what comes after first drafts that's important.

Before showing us Thing Two, the presenter shared that the team had really struggled with coming up with changes after realizing Thing One had some flaws. They threw ideas back and forth, tried a few things, played with text and graphics and colors.

Basically, they did a rewrite.

And the presenter didn't tell us--and I'm not telling you--anything you don't already know about creative endeavors, writing included. Revision is hard. Rewriting is harder. Redoing work you've already done is discouraging, and even more so when you feel like you've expended your creative energy on the first round.

But then the presenter showed us Thing Two.

And there was an unrestrained, appreciative communal gasp. The pieces were visually stunning and captured the concepts perfectly. In short? They were completely different from Thing One.

The work had been completely rewritten.

So what's the lesson on revision? First drafts are often just the bridge from nothing to beautiful work. Sometimes little or nothing is left of the first draft once all is said and done--and that's ok. Sometimes there's plenty of the original left,with just some tweaking. Regardless, holding fast to that first idea, those first words, won't get you anywhere. The point is to create, uninhibited, and refine it later, without attachment to what you created.

What do you think about Round One of projects?

The Prettiest Cannon in the Land

2011-05-30T18:32:00.000-07:00

Remember the canon painting party? Our beautified three-pounder was back in action this weekend, and I have to make like one of those grandmas with a purse full of grandkid photos and share how good he looked:

Fellow lady of the artillery and I getting ready to move him--I'm carrying the implements used to clean his barrel out between rounds, and my lady comrade is carrying the stuff used to fire him. Plus drinking water. Because it was kinda hot. As in about 90 degrees.

I'm making like Molly Pitcher and working the front of the gun during a tactitcal demonstration.

Awwww! Doesn't he look precious, all freshly painted?

And--I wore the Hat of Win this weekend, on Sunday...but I haven't found any pics of it. What I can say is that I stabbed it through my hair with a couple of pins, and despite many gusts of strong wind, it didn't budge. I may have experienced near whiplash, but the hat stayed on my head.

I hope everyone had a good Memorial Day--as my friend said, if you see one of those older guys or gals wearing one of those hats (and I know you know what I mean when I say "those hats"--the embroidered ones that let you know he or she served) take a second to say thank you.

Writing is Not a Transactional Endeavor

2011-05-25T11:41:00.000-07:00

Buying a latte is a transactional endeavor. If you fork over $3.50, you will receive your foamy, hazelnut- or vanilla-flavored soy and espresso beverage. If it does not meet your standards of quality, you may complain, and in many establishments, you will have your money refunded or your beverage replaced. You pay, you receive. You put in, you get out. No ambiguity.

What does this have to do with writing? Not much. Because many very worthy things in life are not transactional.

I have the dubious honor of sending admissions decisions to the students who apply for the academic program I work for. I really, really hate it. Why? Because of how many people I have to tell "no." How many "denied" stamps I dole out. The most frustrating part of the whole thing is how many applicants view their admission as a transactional endeavor. "Well, I've been paying to go to school for three semesters. I've been taking classes." Yes--but you can put in and still not get out. You can take classes and even work hard and not get good grades. You can apply and not be accepted. It's not transactional.

Even theologically-speaking--last night at Bible study we were chatting about prayer, and expectations--and how we often view prayer in a transactional environment. I pray, I expect, I receive. Except--prayer and God are not transactional. God, I believe, answers prayer, but not in the same way you pay for a latte. Prayer is not the beverage counter at Starbucks. Academic and job applications are not a five and dime.

Neither is writing. I think this is what's so hard to deal with about the writing life--any art. You don't always get out, transactionally-speaking, what you put in. It's not fair. It's full of ambiguity. You could spend years writing brilliant, beautiful novels and never--never once--get a publisher interested. You could smack together something at the right time and create a bestseller. For motivated, goal-oriented people, it's scary. There are not necessarily goal points to meet.

So why do you write, if there's no promise of a shiny outcome? Why not spend that time in something with more definite markers of success? I have my answers--because I can't not write, because even if I can't expect particular outcomes, I sure can hope for them and work for them.

What are yours? Or--maybe I'm wrong. Would you say that creating art is transactional--that if you're not finding success it's because you're not putting the right things in?

PS This is definitely not meant as a rant-y life isn't fair post! Just a general musing :)

Surprise! Scarlett O'Hara Stays

2011-05-22T19:00:00.000-07:00

I had full intentions of whipping out a dress this weekend. Then...I got distracted.

By the thought of making a new pair of stays. I've had Norah Waugh's Corsets and Crinolines sitting around for probably longer than is healthy for my project load and have been in love with the 1780s half-boned stays. They're exactly what I wanted--nicely splayed tabs on the bottom, the broad chest and straight-backed shoulder straps.

And what started as goofing around with some pattern pieces and a scrap of canvas turned into a full-blown project. The bulk of the work is yet to come--boning and binding--but I'm thus far very happy with the general shape and the fit.

Rather serendipitously for a spur-of-the-moment project, I just happened to have a couple yards of canvas lying around (purchased for tent repair...oops, sorry tents). And the fabric for the outside of the stays?

Well, that's where Scarlett O'Hara comes in. Those with a keen ear for anachronism were probably wondering what I was doing calling these 1780s stays "Scarlett O'Hara stays." But remember the bit when Scarlett needs a new dress, and the only fabric that can be found is the window hangings? Or, you know, Carol Burnett modeling the concept in a much more literal form?

And remember these curtains I made for the great room?

Well, I didn't canibalize the curtains--I had a very skinny couple of yards of sik leftover. Still. Curtains, clothes...Scarlett O'Hara stays.

Go, tiny blue sewing machine, go!

It's Been a Long Week

2011-05-19T12:56:00.000-07:00

Things have been draggin' here in Hyaline's world. But this is my plan for the next few days:

Awesomeness to include: Finishing 1770s Block Print Jacket of Joy, Starting Something Sparkly and New (Regency? 1940s Day Dress? Dunno...), and....drumroll....Finishing the WIP. Yeppers. I will stop being sad. And start being awesome.

When You Should Include the Weather

2011-05-17T08:11:00.000-07:00

There's a famous maxim on book openings: Never start with the weather. That's an excellent pithy reminder for an important point, which is not to set the scene, but to simply write the scene.

But I think it gives weather a bad name.

This weekend we participated in a living history event. For those of you not in the eastern half of the United States, I'll fill you in on the weather we've been having. It rained. A lot. And fierce 30 mph winds pushed a cold front down our throats that dragged temperatures to a range we consider normal for February, not May.

And as we huddled together under our fly (a canvas awning used for protection--albiet meagre--from the elements), it occured to me how very, very important weather is in a setting.

Consider this scene two ways: A group of embattled eighteenth-century soldiers (pick your side) plays a hand of cards, when one of their comrades arrives with a bottle of rum.

Exhibit A:

Taylor dropped the third ace from his hand, smiled broadly, and swept the trick. The last of the afternoon's golden sunlight spread over the weathered cards. The gradient light made the Jack Nick had laid look like it was winking him. Having a good laugh at a poor hand. Nick couldn’t help but laugh as well. Good riddance.

"Good play," Nick said, grudging his opponent's good luck. Three aces in a row, and nothing higher than a ten in his own hand. He leaned back against a tree trunk, stretching his back against the bark.

He shrugged his shoulders out of his regimental coat. Night would bring a chill that would have him wanting the coat back, but for now he could stretch his arms. Jennings appeared from behind the tree. He carried a suspiciously familiar bottle.

“Fancy meeting you boys here,” he said as he uncorked the bottle. He poured a liberal dose into the gil cup he kept in his hat brim while Taylor won the rest of the hand. Jennings passed the cup to Nick. He tossed it back, the fire tracing his throat like the last rays of sunlight tracing the horizon. Tomorrow might bring a skirmish, or a long march, or a rash of dysentery. But today all was well.

OK, now in this scene, the exact same thing happens. Except this time the weather is pretty much what we had this weekend--cold, windy, rain. Exhibit B:

Taylor dropped the third ace from his hand and plucked the cards from the table before the leak in the tarp above them could drop fat droplets of water on them. Nick was glad to see the Jack he had laid disappear quickly—it was a wasted card against Taylor’s hand. A wasted card like this wasted bloody day. Good riddance.

"Good play," Nick said, grudging his opponent's good luck. Three aces in a row, and nothing higher than a ten in his own hand. He flexed his feet inside his shoes, demanding that life flow back into them. They refused.

Taylor led the next hand, and Nick threw something from the low end of the suit, something he didn't care about losing. He huddled his regimental coat closer around him. The wind felt like it was driving daggers through the thick wool. His nose ran, drips quivering above his lip before he wiped them off.

Jennings appeared from behind a sodden tree. He carried a suspiciously familiar bottle.

“Fancy meeting you boys here,” he said as he uncorked the bottle. He poured a few drops into the gil cup he kept in his hat brim while Taylor won the rest of the hand. Jennings passed the cup to Nick. He tossed it back, the fire tracing his throat, warming him as nothing else could at that moment. Funny, he thought, how the only saving grace of a cold night on campaign could come in the form of a gil cup of rum.

So, this was hastily written and poorly edited. But I hope it illustrates my point--weather isn't merely something that's happening in your story. Your characters interact with it and, whether they intend it or not, it affects them. You can use weather to your advantage as a storyteller. If I wanted to give my characters a break, I let them have the weather in the first scene. If I wanted to bring them to the breaking point, I throw the frigid rain their way.

All the more so for stories set in the past. Today we can shut the blinds and put on Netflix and rather thoroughly ignore the weather outdoors (for better or worse). But in the past, people had to contend with the weather on an everyday basis. If it rained, a soldier still had to march. If it was 100 degrees, a farmer still had to work the fields. If it was freezing cold with a biting wind, a milkmaid still had to schlep her buckets outdoors.

So be aware of the weather--if it's sunny, raining, cold, hot. It adds a layer of realism to keep weather consistent with the time of year and the location, and can add a layer of emotional depth and dramatic interest. Not that you have to mention it all the time. Just don't forget it's there. Your characters are like mailmen--snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night, shall stay them from the completion of a good plot arc. But it can sure mess with them while they're at it.

Friday Five: Getting Rained On in the most Historically Accurate of Modes

2011-05-13T10:22:00.000-07:00

We have a living history event this weekend. It is going to rain buckets, according to weather.com. That was a technical system of measurement. Buckets. Big ones.

I get a bit testy thinking about going and sitting in a field for two days with the promise of sodden shoes looming ahead of me. Of course, history wasn't all sunshine and bright breezes, so of course we must maintain the stiff upper lip and face up to unpleasant weather. But, for history afficianados, historical fiction writers, and those who like to revel in their modern comforts, a few reasons why poor weather really, really stunk back in the day.

1) Wet canvas smells like moldy cheese. OK, most people in the eighteenth century had actual homes to live in, so this one doesn't count for the average person. But if you were on campaign with the army, as we often are in our reenactment lives, this one's a biggie. Canvas tents don't leak too terribly when they're well made, and do offer quite a bit of protection from the elements. (Until the water gets too high and there's a four-inch-deep lake in your wall tent, but that's another thing entirely. And, yes, this has happened to me.) However, they develop an odd, slightly nauseating odor. An odor quite a bit like warm, sweating, molding cheese. Yack.

2) And wet wool stinks, too. All our guys' uniforms, and quite a bit of the ladies' clothes, are made of wool. Wet wool smells like a disgruntled half-bathed sheep. Why disgruntled? Smell it and you'll understand.

3) Your stove doesn't work. Neither does your oven. And the heating is busted, too. So here's the thing--our campfires are our cooking appliances and our main sources of warmth. Again, in a nice house, this is less of an issue, though damp wood is crappy for everybody. However, on campaign, wet wood and a driving rain combine to make starting a fire either difficult or impossible. Sometimes, if you've already gotten a good fire going, it can ride out a rainstorm. I've seen burning logs floating in rain-flooded fire pits. But for the most part, it's smoky, lukewarm output at best.

4) Which means when you get wet, you stay wet. Yes, you can change clothes. Up to a point. But people didn't have the inexhaustable closets we have today. Say you're rather poor--you may only have one spare shirt. And when that's soaked, well, you're just going to have to be wet. And on campaign, you have even fewer options than you might at home. Oh, and that campfire that won't start? It's also your only clothes dryer.

5) It's well....boring. Much of the best part about "back then" is all the outdoorsy things we can do--walks and games and roving from camp to camp visiting. There's only so much you can do under the cover of canvas--sewing and reading are decent distractions for a while, and card games can liven things up. But at some point, everyone gets a bit stir-crazy. Modern conveniences like movies, the webbernet, and even light to read by start to sound rather nice on a rainy day. And the challenge of staying dry starts to get a bit tedious.

But you know what? We always manage to have a good time. Even if it means huddling under canvas, eating cold food, smelling one another's sheepy scents, and playing round after round of whist. Because the most authentic thing of all is a stiff upper lip and a cheerful spirit.

Book Cover Pet Peeve--Accuracy and Historical Fiction

2011-05-11T11:11:00.000-07:00

So, we should probably just confirm, for the record and for the purposes of this post, that I am a giant nerd. Also I'm a touch anal. And again, huge nerd.

But I have a slightly embarassing but very real pet peeve about book covers. In particular, historical fiction. To be specific, the horrifically inaccurate cover art depictions of ladies' clothing and general appearance.

Anal? Yes. Stupid? Yes. Better things to do with my time? Definitely, wholeheartedly, yes. Am I going to share anyway? Yeah, I think I need to.

So here's the thing. I know, rationally, that a writer has little to no control over the cover that his or her book receives when a publisher releases it. He or she may or may not even be able to give feedback, which may or may not be taken under advisement. So I know that, when I pick up a book with a cringeworthy outfit on the cover, it's not the author's fault. Rationally, I know this. But I still have a hard time divorcing my immediate perception of "Wildly innacurate" from the potential that this could be a prisinely researched book.

What I think that publishers don't quite get is that their editorial choices add up to one single perception for the buyer. And for a buyer of historical fiction, accuracy is often very important. So when you take a well-researched novel and smack a poorly researched bit of cover art on, it's doing your author a great disservice, because I'm already having to try to avoid the assumption that, if you don't care about your art department's accuracy, that you don't care about your writer's accuracy, either. It's not fair. But it's how the consumer thinks--even a consumer who's moderately educated in how publishing works. For someone who doesn't know that a writer has no control over the cover? Even more understandable that he or she might put the book back on the shelf.

Some examples that make my eyes hurt. Please note--this is NOT meant to bash the writers! However, it is meant to highlight that yes, some readers do notice this stuff. (It may also be meant as a slight cattiness outlet on a rough day.)

Wildeacre by Philippa Gregory

This cover makes my eyes hurt for one main reason: Hair. No one, save no one, had Herbal Essences hair in the eighteenth century. Either put it up, put a cap on it, or dress it properly to be worn down. Don't want to paint a lady with Hedgehog Hair? Don't do eighteenth-century book covers.

The Midwife of the Blue Ridge by Christine Blevins

Now, I imagine that the argument might be that this woman is on the frontier, so of course she's not wearing a fancy gown (I could totally go off on a tangent here, by the way, and I think I will in a future post). But I still don't know exactly what the bodice-y thing she's wearing is quite supposed to be. Is it a corset? Part of the Saint Pauli girl ensemble? Ye Olde Barmaid Supplies Unlimited sale item? Don't make your reader guess. Use clothes that actually existed. Like a sturdy pair of jumps.

The Queen's Dollmaker by Christine Trent

Just a complete lack of understanding of eighteenth century undergarments and gown construction. A lady wearing stays would never look that rumpledy. Let me get graphic--her breasts should not be poking out into the torso of the gown. She's not wearing a bra, people--she's wearing stays. The girls are going to be high and the torso, flattened. The gown is constructed in some fashion that I can only imagine was inspired by a 1980s McCall's Halloween costume pattern, because it it no way resembles proper eighteenth century draping--especially with the skirts, which should not be attached all the way across the front in the way they are, and are in desperate need of a pair of pocket hoops or a false rump or something. The neckline fits poorly--if this was meant to be seductive, it just made me want to stuff a kercheif down her front. And yes, bows were used in the eighteenth century. But why oh WHY must they ALWAYS appear on cover art?

The Frontiersman's Daughter by Laura Franz

I understand that this is a Christian fiction book. Therefore, I imagine they didn't intend to put a lady in her underclothes on the cover. Darn it all if they did anyway, likely trying to avoid the low-necked titilation of so many other cover choices. Here's the thing: Your leading lady is appearing in just her shift--her underwear. Plus she's doing that thing where it's hiked up to her neck--what I always consider the Urkel move of eighteenth-century fashion. And again with the shampoo ad hairstyle. Layers did not exist. At least, they didn't exist in an attractive way.

I hope this didn't come across as mean-spirited--I actually quite wish that publishers would have their art departments consult with costume historians (and other scholars) to produce the best possible product.

Of course, then...what would I have to be catty about?

Race and Writing

2011-05-10T06:03:00.000-07:00

There has been a ton of great conversation lately on race in writing--the editing of Huckleberry Finn to remove a derogatory descriptive word, the casting of Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss in the movie version of Hunger Games, plenty of other fab blog posts and discussions spurred by these and other events.

First, a pair of opinions. Yes, I think it's lame that someone felt the need to edit the "n" word out of Huck Finn, and would only be ok with this if they had put in something completely ludicrous that would draw even more attention, like "bubblegum sparkle ostrich feathers," so that you were reminded of their idiocy as you read. And no, I don't think it was bad casting unlesss Lawrence turns out to butcher the role, as, yes, I think Katniss is white. Historically, Appalachia is a predominantly white area, and is in fact often cited as one of the few regions where white people have poor access to health care, education, and other opportunities, making it somewhat of a rural inner city in terms of access. I could really digress here, but I won't.

But what is it about race and books that has such a propensity for setting us off?

Well, race is sensitive and books are often ambiguous. Unlike in movies, you might not know a character's race right away in a book. Take Katniss and the other residents of the Seam in Hunger Games as an example--I assumed they were white because of my understanding of the setting and how I applied the descriptions. To me, olive skin and grey eyes are white descriptors, because my father has olive skin and I see grey eyes on white friends of mine (and not on black friends). But they could easily be perceived as features of a mixed racial background, as well. So be bring our prejudices--and yes, we're all prejudiced by our experiences, I'm not using that term in a negative way, but a realistic one--to the book we're reading. If this was just about whether a character was tall or short, it would be a funny happenstance--"Oh, you thought Katniss was short? I totally read her as tall! How funny." But race is such a charged subject that we have a tendency to go on the defensive, or just get really uncomfortable.

Plus, let's be honest, race has a nasty history. It takes a skilled and sensitive writer to balance honesty about how characters might feel about race with how the reader will react to the character and a world in which race may appear in different ways than it does in our experience. This is especially true in stories that take place in the past, where racism was often much more open, in an imagined future where race might take a starring role in class-making, or be eliminated or undiscussed.

In stories set in the past, some stories set today, and many stories set in imagined worlds, we have to accept that characters will be racist. Not all, perhaps, and possibly at varying levels of horrifying opinions, but nothing peeves me more than when writers--especially in historical fiction in times and places where we know the average person was a blazing racist--ignore the race question in places it needs to be addressed, or have perfect, enlightened Mary Sue characters who all have lovely outlooks on the futility of defining a person by race. Yeah, right. In our past, even white individuals who didn't personally perpetuate horrors like slavery, the Trail of Tears, or internment camps still didn't usually view other races as "equal" to them. In the present or in imagined futures or other worlds, you can avoid race--but only if it makes sense for the story. When race comes up in the story a writer has to deal with it with an honest but sensitive outlook. You have to be able to write compelling, even (gasp) likeable characters who are racists if we're going to write about times and places where racism was rampant. Hard? Yes. Even harder when readers aren't open to it? Definitely. Acceptable to ignore the hard truths about racism in favor of puppies and sunshine? Nope.

What this might boil down to, even more than race, is what we expect from our characters. We don't want to touch icky stuff with our characters--racism, sexism, religious intolerance, moral ambiguity--because it makes us look for these things in ourselves, as readers and writers. But isn't that the point of books? To provide new outlooks, safe spaces for exploring ourselves, and provocation and questions?

Sorry if this was a ramble--but it's something I'm having to look at it my own writing. I wrote one story set in a time and place when slavery was normal, and it simply wouldn't have worked to have modern-thinking characters. They accepted the black people their families owned as normal, and I didn't delve into it much beyond that. I question if this was the right attitude to take in the writing, or if it would have appeared to a modern reader to ignore the problem, even though it was an honest portrayal of history and of the characters I imagined. I'm now working on a story set in a speculated future in which my little pocket of characters is all white (not me whitewashing, but a completely legitimate circumstance). When they encounter people of other races, it's tied up with culture shock as well. How can I deal with this sensitively--yet still maintain the strangeness for my characters of people who simply look so different?

How does race crop up in your writing? What about favorite books that deal with race--how did they approach telling a story fraught with potential pitfalls?

Friday Five--Things I Wouldn't Really Mind So Much about Living Back in the Day

2011-05-06T10:33:00.000-07:00

So, it seems that whenever history-o-philes like me start waxing poetic about how we actually wouldn't really mind living back in the (fill in the century here), some wiseacre feels the need to remind us of those little inconveniences that life in the past would present. Some, of course, are totally valid. Like no running water. Notice I don't say no toilet. I can deal with that. But I like my running water. More on that later.

So, a Friday Five--historical difficulties I can actually deal with:

1) Complicated Systems of Undergarments. I like wearing a lot of clothes. The more the merrier (until July...but then nothing is pleasant, clothes-wise). I don't mind the corsetry and petticoat layers required to acheive historical style. In fact, I kind of wish we'd return to more formalized underthings--they make one feel much prettier, in my opinion, than something boring and cotton from a Hanes package. Despite the fact that this may be an overshare, I'm wearing a 40s style garter belt and stockings right now. For Kicks. And I've discussed before how Stays Don't Stink.

2) That Whole Not Voting Thing. Yes, this stinks on a theoretical level. But consider the way it could work for you. Your husband gets to vote. OK. Now, who makes dinner? And pie? That's right! You make dinner and pie! And who likes when you make his favorite dinner and pie? Exactly. You see where I'm going. He gets to go stand in line to cast your vote. For dinner and pie. And let's be honest--you like making pie anyway. (PS And we all know that you'll know, in that polygraph test that is inter-gender communication.) Before anyone gets all indignant that I'm trivializing women's rights, two points: Yes, I'm joking here and No, I'm not completely joking here. We seem to have a notion that women must have all been oppressed and unable to effect any change, and that's a belief I see bucked over and over again in the quiet histories of ordinary people. Women were smart. They found ways to assert themselves.

3)It's Really Hard Work. You're right. It is. Totally is. And I know I only really dig in on it a few weekends a year, but I do love it when I do it. Scouring tables. Jointing chickens. Hauling firewood. Stoking the fire (ok, not that part. I'm bad at that part. I make a boy with bigger lung capacity than me do that part). But here's the thing--hard work is really, really gratifying. Manual labor makes you feel alive. After sitting behind a desk more hours of my day than any human should, I've come to value the experience of fresh air and blisters. And you sleep great.

4) They Didn't Have TV (or computers or phones or whatever). Well, they did have books. And sewing. Two things I like a lot better than TV. And, whenever people comment on crazy-passionate lovemaking in historical films, novels, or nonfiction? My response is always, "Well, they didn't have TV." There are trade-offs, people.

5) No Toilets or Running Water. OK, yes, toilets are nice. But I think one would get used to privies and chamber pots without too much inconvenience. And giving up frequent showers in favor of less frequent baths and daily washbasin touch-ups wouldn't be a terrible swap--who doesn't like baths? But the part that would stink? No running water in the kitchen. Holy mackerel, do you have any idea how many buckets I go through washing stuff to cook, boiling stuff in, and washing up after? Now that's a pain.

So, what could you live without? What would you not be willing to deal with?

Writing to Market--Anathema, Accepting Defeat, or Valid Consideration?

2011-05-04T11:57:00.001-07:00

I recently wrote a blog post that made me realize I had a lot more to say on the subject of one hot point in the comments—writing to market. First, my incredibly astute commenters did a great job of pointing out that a writer has to write what captivates him or her, what catches a lot of him or her and demands to be written. Yes. This is what writers do—give voice to dreamworlds and imagined landscapes and burning, compelling stories. If you don’t have a story wrapping you around its little finger, if the characters aren’t making you want to bleed them onto the page, it’s not worth writing.

But what about if you want to sell it?

I didn’t say publish it. I don’t say that because I believe that any kind of sharing could be considered publishing—after all, when I post this blog ramble, the button I hit is called “Publish” and, well, it is. It’s providing this content for the world at large. That’s publishing in a nutshell. But whether you want to self-publish or go the traditional route, when you decide you want to sell your writing, there’ s a new wrinkle in the question.

The Market.

I want to first distinguish between writing to market and writing to trend. I think they’re different. Writing to trend is chasing rabbit trails of hot-selling books, trying to make your story the next Twilight or Harry Potter or Eat, Pray, Love. Writing to trend means ditching what you love for what you hedge your bets might sell. It’s kinda like death to the soul of your writing—the passion is gone, you’re marrying the safe guy instead of the guy you love. To give it a clichéd metaphor. Writing to market, however, is being aware that there is an audience, that they have certain expectations, and, if you’re really serious about selling, noting that they buy some stuff and don’t buy other stuff.

I noticed recently that the market I’m aiming for (traditional publishing) isn’t really buying my stuff (introspective, character-driven historical fiction set in 18th century or 20th century America). Yes, there is some out there. But when I read agent wish lists and new releases and scan the bookshops, these kinds of works are in the minority, losing out to droves of pre-Revolution-era royalty/court stories. Not my thing, to read or write (nothing aginast these--I'm just not interested in royal people and the court—I like ordinary, hard-toiling stinky people). And I can see the great irony—when you write the book you wanted to read, to fill the void out there, well…sometimes the void is there because not enough people are interested in what you wanted to be reading the first place. (Questions of whether I should explore self-publishing, whether my impressions of what’s selling are skewed, whether I’m just an insecure nutjob, shall likely be addressed in future posts.)

I noticed recently as well that there’s a story that’s been begging me to write it for quite some time. It’s a story about an imagined future, not a reconstructed past. It’s a story aimed at young adults, not grown-up people. It’s a story built on choice, movement, change and external conflict more than development, relationships, and internal conflict. All of these things are, yes, palatable to the market right now.

And I thought…I can keep writing what I know is an uphill battle to get the market to notice. Or I can give this little story a shot—this story that happens to fit what the market is asking for. I decided to let the market influence me. I have no idea how it’s going to pan out, long term. After all, the market is fickle. So you have write what you love, regardless.

For right now? I’m loving this little experiment, my characters beg me to come play every free minute I have, and the writing is flowing like it never has before.

What do you think? Does considering the ultimate outcome of your project—selling, publishing, or otherwise—play into your decision of what ideas to pursue? Is it selling out to even open the door on The Market discussion?

And, as you consider these questions...May the Fourth be with you all...sorry, couldn't resist!

Block Print Jacket--It's all over but the Bling-ing

2011-05-02T15:08:00.001-07:00

I finished the construction on Mother's jacket--just some final edge turning and a sleeve hem or two. Then the fun part starts--adding all the fluff and trim! Eighteenth-century ladies liked their bling:

Check those ruffles! And the petticoat trim! And the giant bleepin' hats! Even the maid sports some bows.

So, I decided on a simple pleated ribbon trim for the front of the jacket:

And how it will look with the stomacher put in:

Still undecided about how much to trick out the stomacher. I might leave it fairly simple to let the ribbon lacing really pop. Plus, stomachers are the fun wild card of eighteenth-century clothing. Easy to change up, add more bling to, remove bling from, make a new one entirely. Whatever I do now, I can easily change in a few years. Or months. You know, whenever I get bored.

The floofy pleated ribbon trim is easy to make. Just take a length of ribbon (I used silk ribbon, the kind that's used by ribbon embroiderers, so is easiest to procure inexpensively). Then, box-pleat the ribbon and pin it, like so:

I just work right from the spool, and cut the ribbon when the length is complete. This is easiest to do, as I did, with a glass of home brewed cider and a chorus of other women giggling along with you while they work. Just a tip.

Finally, take a running stitch up the center of the ribbon, yielding this:

I'm now working on a self-fabric ruffle for the bottom of the petticoat. Just a bit more work on the trims, finish the stomacher and the petticoat, and add in the lacing for the jacket front, and it will be done!

Except for the matching hat I now want to make for this. I mean, come on--a pink-satin-covered hat? How could I resist?

Quick! A Writing Update

2011-04-29T10:21:00.000-07:00

I should probably mention that I'm up to my earlobes in work-work-problems-work-solutions-firestobeputout-work right now. So I haven't been the best blogger or blog-friend, and for that I sincerely apologize. The end of next week marks the end of my most insane time of year. I'll be a better bloggist, promise.

Plus, I've been writing. Like, a lot. Like, sit down and plow through 1.5K after work and chow down another 1K as an after-dinner snack whenever my schedule lets me. Which, given I've been running out of time to shower lately, is doing pretty well. So I've been following the inspiration and feeding the muse as much as she'll stomach, because you don't always feel like this--sometimes inspiration is dry and it's harder to chug out your word count goals. But of course, this all means I've had less time for interacting with all of you who also inspire me and keep me going.

So--a short update and general ramble over how writing is going. Secret Departure project is going really well--I feel excited about it, I feel, even, mildly confident in it. I'm at 45K (a bit of a slower pace since the first few frenzied weeks, but still respectable for me, for a project I started in February!) and am beginning to pore back over the earlier parts of the book to see what I still need to flesh out. (Consensus so far: A lot.) I'm also trying to decide exactly how to end it, because we're getting to those scenes that will set up a slam-bang ending. See, I know what happens...but not the details. And the details are the most fun, aren't they?

But--I've been feeling really squishy about the project, even though I feel that the plot and characters and concept are all rock-solid. Why? It's not historical fiction, as I shared last time I talked about it. And that's what I do...right? It shakes my identity as a writer to be attempting something different from what I first believed I had a niche in.

Then I read this post on the Guide to Literary Agents blog. Nothing the writer says quite addresses my concern, but a couple pieces hint at it. One is point #1--about writing to market. Here's the deal--the kind of HistFic I write and want to write? It's not the hottest thing right now. If it was snapping, sparkling good, could it sell? I'm sure--but compared to what's in vogue, it's an uphill battle. It's ok to acknowledge that, I finally realize. And it's ok to write something that sings to me but might have a slightly better stab at selling, just by nature of what people are buying. The other is point #3--about branching out. Sometimes it's ok to branch out--yes, most people can't do a career as a Historical/Urban Fantasy/Sci-Fi/Prescriptive Nonfiction writer. You have to settle down eventually. But you learn from everything--and you never know what might emerge as your new love.

I love historical fiction. But I love what I'm writing now, too.

And, for anyone still hanging on and wondering what the heck I'm working on: It's post-apocalyptic / rather edging toward dystopian young adult.

And it's a blast!

Quick! A Sewing Update

2011-04-25T13:09:00.001-07:00

I saw my mother over Easter--so of course did a quick fitting on her block-printed gown and petticoat. The jacket fits *perfectly* and I can't wait to see how the whole ensemble goes together! I'm especially pleased with how the skirt of the jacket flares just-so--the way I finished the hems gave it a bit more substance on the edge, so the flare doesn't go limp. Yay! for experiments that worked!

Also--I decided on the light blue fabric for the Regency dress. I think the shade is saturated enough, and a warm enough incarnation of blue, that I can pull it off. Plus, I love it. So summery and light.

As soon as it gets here, fun times in the cutting room! Also--I need a fun name for this dress. "Regency dress" sounds boring. If you have any thoughts...leave 'em in the comments. I'm fresh out of creative wordplay today. The event at which it's making its debut is a Jane Austen festival in July...with a Sense and Sensibility theme. See if that gets you anywhere :)

And--short cloak, I have not forgotten you. You will be cut soon. Hopefully in time to accompany me to our next, probably rather rainy, event.

Easter Bonnet

2011-04-22T10:01:00.000-07:00

I used to find bonnets, compared with their flat-brimmed eighteenth-century counterparts, pretty darn lame. So modest. So retiring. So grandma-appropriate compared with a coquetteish straw hat.

So....like this:

Attack of the stay-puft marshmallow cap! Run for your lives!

Ahem. Sorry. Drifted a bit there.

Then I started playing with more nineteenth-century fun stuff. And there are certainly some bonnets whose lines are graceful, whose trim is sophisticated, and whose general air is sweet, spring-like youthfulness. Perfect for Easter!

Adorable pink straw, open-woven bonnet with an almost-superfluous cascade of silk flowers. Ca. 1865.

Fancy-woven straw bonnet, ca. 1835. Could have been decorated with faux flowers, silk ribbon, or whatever suited the wearer's taste.

Silk-covered 1850s bonnet with sophisticated tonal pink trim. I love the contrasting lining!

And this simple little specimen--a plain straw bonnet from about 1850. This one is my favorite--despite its rougher texture and simpler design, I find it compelling. Almost strictly utilitarian, yet still sporting a graceful if minimal shape.

All images and dates from the Metropolitan Museum of Art Costume Institute. Many more to browse and enjoy--please go take a look!

My Easter bonnet this year won't be nearly as exciting--probably just a feather fascinator or a cute leaf-embellished headband I just picked up. How about yours?

Fashionable Updates, Regency Gown Plans, and Why it Pays to be Wanton

2011-04-20T07:08:00.001-07:00

First up--congrats to Wanton Redhead Writing for sharing her stylish self--and for winning the Burt's Bees Rose lip balm. Wanton--shoot me an email and we'll chat on sending this out.

Second--after a delightful weekend at the Happiest Place on Earth, I've decided I have to return in July for a Regency-era event. The Jane Austen Festival is outside my usual schedule--but I can think of no better way to spend a summer afternoon than with the ladies and gentlemen in whose company I spent this past weekend, and wearing a new gown from an era I haven't ventured into yet.

So! I've ordered a pattern to use for my new Regency gown, and plan to rely pretty heavily on Janet Arnold's Patterns of Fashion for guidance and adjustments. The pattern is Period Impressions Bib-front gown, and looks quite a bit like one of the gowns featured in Arnold's book. I'm especially excited to play with the fitting on the back and the gathered, high skirt. I'll be making the short-sleeved version...as it will be worn in July. Should be fun!

As for the rest of the ensemble: I already have a shift I can use with the gown, and I hope to make a pair of Regency stays as well. I have enough book and internet resources for the stays that I *might* try drafting something myself. Nervous! Will see how it goes. And if the stays don't get done--I'll be taking a friend's advice to just wear a modern balconet bra with the gown. I'll whip together a white kercheif for modesty and sun protection from linen I already have. I will also try to finish a bonnet before the event. I hate squinting in the sun.

The only question on the gown now is fabric...I'd love to use a very lightweight linen or cotton. So far, a couple contenders:

Pretty moss green linen.

A somewhat unusual rusty-red linen.

Pale sky-blue linen-cotton blend.

My quandry is that I tend to look better in darker colors--but for a summery Regency day dress, pale colors seem much more appropriate. Perhaps a shot of color from my faux-coral necklace or a brooch or ribbon would brighten the ensemble and keep me from looking like a washed-out Pasty McPasterson.

Any thoughts on color choice? Will keep you all posted on the progress!

The Happiest Place on Earth

2011-04-14T16:39:00.000-07:00

I'll be signing off for the weekend--first living history event of the year, at what I like to call the Happiest Place on Earth. A few pictures should explain why:

If, when I return, I am a bit less than enthused to return to this century, you'll forgive me. I've been in a palace of redbuds and blooming dogwood and rolling carpets of violets.