Delilah S. Dawson's Blog, page 43

thanks, sevenly!

I get to review a lot of really cool stuff for Cool Mom Picks, and I correspond with some seriously lovely people throughout the process. One of my favorite parts of working for my amazing editors is when a company or artisan I've reviewed sends a thank you note and I get a warm fuzzy from knowing I've helped a real person.
I received a thank you package in the mail from Ryan and the folks at Sevenly this week, and I am LOVING this shirt. It's soft, comfy, fits like a glove, and includes two of my favorite things: freedom and feathers. Plus, $7 from the purchase of every shirt goes to charity.

If you're looking for a cool shirt that does good in the world, check them out. They have a new shirt each week that's designed by an artist in relation to that week's charity.
Thanks, Sevenly!
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The Creative Cycle Will Kill You, REALLY.

For some reason today's blog post crammed itself down there below my steampunk costume post. So you can scroll down or click here to see why I'm like a balloon and craving Captain Crunch.
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in which I blubber over a blurb

You guys. YOU GUYS. I got my first blurb!


That's the short version. Here's the long version:
"WICKED AS THEY COME is as good as it gets! Delilah Dawson, I love your steamvamp world of Sang! And I long to hear super-hot bludman Criminy Stain whisper those three special words in my ear: 'Here's the sequel!'"


Thanks so much to Nancy!
Now, as my friend Stephanie says, "WORTHY OF A CUPCAKE!"
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getting vaguely steamy

I'm finally doing it!
I'm putting together steampunk outfits.
I want two separate ones. One a sort of Maid Marion/pirate and the other more of an adventurous librarian.
Oh, and I can't take decent pictures.
So first, we have Vixen corset, shirt, and stagecoach shirt from Damsel in Distress:



Or, for the full effect with my bad photography:



And the basis of the steampunk librarian:


That's a big plum circle skirt, white blouse, and black pinstripe vest.
I still need a leather harness, something to hold a pocket watch, and two seriously fabulous hats.
It's all about the accessories.
It's funny-- only in the last couple of years have I learned to accessorize my normal wardrobe.
Now I have to learn all over again.
Note to self: cogs, brass, octopi.
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Question: If you were going to dress up in a steampunk fashion, what would your persona be? Pirate, adventurer, inventor, diva?
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The Creative Cycle Will Kill You

First of all, you can thank my art degree and the glories of MS Paint for that fabulous image.
Second of all, the Creative Cycle will kill you .
But! And here's the kicker.
Only if you let it.
See, right now, I'm in the deflation part, which means that instead of doing anything useful, I'm haunting Twitter and Facebook, stalking Goodreads, shopping for corsets I don't need, and occasionally stealing glances at my Gmail waiting for a seratonin hit like a lab rat hooked up to a sugar dispenser. But that's part of my creative cycle. It happens every time. Let me explain.
1. First, there is the seed.
The idea. The spark. The inspiration that grabs your heart at 11:37 at night and makes you scribble on the back of a drugstore receipt with an eyeliner pencil. The idea fills you, expands you, makes you realize you can do anything! You dream, you chew it like a unicorn gnawing on magical glitter cud. You live in your mind until you have it all figured out.
2. And then you have to do it.
This is the doing phase. You have to write that book, no matter what. If you want to stay home in the same fleece pants for two weeks and eat nothing but calamari and never sleep, you do that. If you need to dress up and go out and sit at a place with free refills and drink coffee all day in your fancy boots, you do that. No matter what it takes, you do it.
And then it's done.
And for about twenty minutes, you feel overwhelming relief.
Then the next day comes, and you feel...
3. The deflation.
No energy. Honey badger don't care. You want a nap. Or maybe you should work? Should you look at it? Start the next revision? What if someone else is writing the same concept and finishes it before you do? What if an editor has a space for it and you miss it? What if THE WORLD BLOWS UP? So you look at it, and then you realize that...
IT SUCKS.
There are plot holes. Characters that have issues. Messed up view or tense. You've completely forgotten that chapter 1 centered on the heroine being an only child while her brother becomes a main character in chapter 4. The motivation is off. The pacing is off. The bit with the robots is FLAT OUT. There's so much work on this rotten piece of trash that it will never become anything more than a crap smudge on a thumb drive.
And that right there is what will kill you if you let it.
You can't let yourself forget that you have reached the bottom point of the creative cycle. The PMS of the menstrual cycle of your mind. If you can get through this bit, it's all downhill from there.
Because one day, you think... maybe I'll look at it again. Maybe it's not too bad.
So you decide to do the hard part.
4. You look at it. And you fix it.
You lay it out, graph it out, and the holes are easy to see. You know how to make him more likable, her more real. You know exactly how to amp up the excitement in the middle. You can fix it, and it will be good.
So you go back to work. It's not manic and panicked and frenzied. It's measured. Intelligent. Planned. Fulfilling. Logical.
And when you're done with the careful work, you've come full circle.
And it's done.
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The hard truth is that making something of value takes time.
It takes excitement, hard work, patience, pain, an acceptance of criticism, and a dedication to making it right, no matter the cost. I didn't understand that, when I was younger. I thought things could spring fully-formed from my head and be perfect.
They can't. Not for me. Not for anyone.
So don't let it kill you. Don't even let it get you down. When you hit the point of deflation, do whatever you must to get past it, even if that involves going to bed for three days with a box of Captain Crunch. It's a natural part of the process, of the cycle.
We are creatures controlled by chemicals and muses and gods and monsters and things we'll never understand. The one thing in our power is choice. You choose to create. You choose to strive.
And when things get hard, you choose to go on.
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a morning three-way

A morning three-way conversation with my children, that is.
t.rex: I tink dere are bad guys here.
me: At the bus stop? Why do you think that?
t.rex: Because dey are dark. You no can see dem.
me: What do they want with a bunch of sleepy parents and kids?
the biscuit: Um, maybe you're forgetting my piggy bank? And all my JEWELS?
me: Sweetheart, bad guys need more than $3.72 and some plastic gems. They want billions and billions of dollars.
the biscuit: What about my computer?
me: The one that plays a Barbie song?
the biscuit: Oh.
me: Yeah.
the biscuit: Is that my bus?
me: Yep.
the biscuit: Oh, BORING. I hate P.E. day!
me: Hate is a very strong word that we don't use. But I hate P.E., too, so I guess that's okay. Have a good day. I love you!
the biscuit: Bye! I love you! Weebles wobble, but they don't fall down!
me: Duly noted.
t.rex: It is time to pick up Sister?
me: No. She's not even on the bus yet.
t.rex: Then it is time to eat oatmeal?
me: Yes. Let's drive home and get you some oatmeal.
t.rex: MAYBE DAT IS PRINCESS LEIA?
me: I'm pretty sure that's Kai's mom.
t.rex: NO, DAT IS PRINCESS LEIA ON HOTH!
me: This isn't Hoth.
t.rex: IT PRETTY COLD.
me: I'm not wearing shoes. It's not cold.
t.rex: DAT IS STILL PRINCESS LEIA.
me: And what is Princess Leia doing in our neighborhood at 6:53am, walking home from the bus stop?
t.rex: SAVING US FROM DOZE BAD GUYS I JUST SAW.
me: Wow. You totally brought that one around full circle!
t.rex: YETZ. I AM YOUR LEADER, DUKE. DO WHAT I SAY.
me: Not a chance, dude.
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signage

See that? It's one of my proudest possessions. A mint condition, hardbound, first edition of the Pennyroyal Edition of Alice in Wonderland, signed to me with warm regards from one of my all-time favorite illustrators, the marvelous Barry Moser.
This was my first signed book, and here is the second.

A signed copy of The Black Doll's Imbroglio by Edward Gorey.
Not personalized, as he was dead by then. I found it at the Gorey shop in New York in 1994, and even though one of my children ripped the dust jacket, she yet lives.
See? I can be merciful.
My third signed book is a copy of Misty of Chincoteague by Marguerite Henry.
And when I started writing and meeting authors, my collection really expanded.

Note: The yellow My Little Pony is Skydancer, who was a gift from author Seanan McGuire. I should have asked her to sign the pony's bum before mailing.
Since I stopped collecting Breyer Horses in middle school, I haven't really collected anything until now. It feels good to gather beautiful things, one by one, to open them and remember what it was like to meet an author I admire. Each of these books tells a story I won't forget.
Recently on Facebook, one of my favorite authors, Matthew Stover, said he wanted a signed copy of my book, and that was possibly the most flattering and twitterpatering thing I've ever heard. I'm still fanning myself. Of course, he has to sign my battered copy of Heroes Die, first.
Anybody else have a signed book they cherish?
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my first review!

*****
I woke up this morning to find the first ever review for WICKED AS THEY COME!
5 out of 5 stars.
That's FIVE STARS!
It's here, if you'd like to read it, but it contains many SPOILERS, so BEWARE.
The ARCs have gone out, and I will now spend most of the day googling the book and holding my breath. So I'll probably be pretty dizzy until, oh... April.
There are mixed opinions on whether authors should read their reviews, but I just couldn't help myself. I really appreciate Lexie's thoughtful, thorough, and above all interesting response. She feels the same way about the characters that I do, and that tells me that I'm doing something right.
I know there are going to be bad reviews and meh reviews, and I'm trying to steel myself for them. For now, I'm just smiling really big.
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happy net karma ahoy!

So a fun thing just happened.
1. Litreactor.com wrote an intriguing article about B&N ditching the Nook.
2. They did an image search for "broken Nook" and found my picture from this post that I wrote on my 33rd birthday.
3. They used it at the top of their article. Me! With crossed eyes! And a Nook that looks like a bustier sprouting from zombie Gertrude Stein.
4. The delightful Kate Hart identified me and pointed the article out to me via Twitter.
5. I was flattered, so I commented with a couple of link drops.
6. The Litreactor folks kindly gave me credit for the image and even PUT UP A BIG OL' PIC OF MY BOOK COVER WITH LINKS.
7. I squeed and told everybody I know about it, because it made me feel FAMOUS.
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This is how the internet is supposed to work. People sharing information with the kindest intentions,and then spreading it all over the place like glittery marmalade. I now have a warm fuzzy.
Thanks, Litreactor!
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the latent violence of bibliophilia

me: (working in studio)
t.rex: (HUGE CRASH IN LIVING ROOM!)
me: Dude, what are you doing? Are you okay?
t.rex: GO 'WAY. I BUSY.
me: (runs to living room anticipating trouble)
And what do I see?

The scruffy little nerfherder pulled down every book on the kids' bookshelf.
me: WHY DID YOU DO THAT?
t.rex: I WAS LOOKING FOR PING POG PIG. IT MY FABRIT BOOK.
me: Dude, it's over there on the floor, where you left it yesterday.
t.rex: OH, OKAY. I READ IT NOW. OINK OINK SNORT I LIKE TO JUMP I PING POG PIG DUKE BANG BANG I SHOOT YOU!
me: You're a violent enigma wrapped in trouble wrapped in bacon.
t.rex: READ DIS TO ME, OR I SHOOT YOU, TOO.

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