Beth Alvarez's Blog, page 11

Autumn trees

Across a good portion of the summer break, my daughter was in love with painting. A lot of what she did was watercolor, but she enjoyed acrylics too. Somewhere along the way, she asked me to join her. I did my best, but honestly, it’s been a few years since I picked up a brush and I was pretty rusty.

I’ve always enjoyed making up little landscapes, and that proved perfect for the tiny canvas boards I’d picked up at the dollar store. Most of my paintings were 5×7 and 4×6, and trying out a few tiny landscapes was a lot of fun because it was just a tiny space, a little spot in the woods or something similar, rather than the sprawling valleys and mountain ranges I’d done before after watching Bob Ross for too many hours.

Coincidentally, this happened around the same time I started playing with things like Midjourney for concept art generation. Sometimes Midjourney would be spot-on, and sometimes it ended up pretty far from what I was looking for. That’s not really a fault of the AI, mind you. Half the appeal is you never know what it’s going to do. Unfortunately, this time, it didn’t offer anything satisfactory for my simple wants: prompts like an autumn forest and a red castle surrounded by maple trees gave me some charming things reminiscent of a children’s picture book, but not quite what I wanted.

My brush, however, understood a bit better.

I’ve always thought it might be nice to do these sort of landscapes, but with a fantasy flair. I don’t know why I haven’t done it, but I guess there’s always time. The autumnal vibe in my upcoming book The Assassin’s Bride seems like it would be a good one to paint, and the red granite castle in Kentoria’s capital has proven a unique challenge for both me and the AI art generators. Haven’t mastered that one by a long shot, but at least forests with an autumn vibe are easy.

How come Bob Ross never painted any castles, anyway?

A Ring of Fire (A Westkings Heist short story)

“Think of it as a game.”

Tahl’s attention snapped to the instructor at the head of the classroom. The woman drew a line across the wide slate beneath a bold headline: Magic as a Detection Force filled the board from end to end.

Her hand hovered closer to eye level for a moment before she began a simple drawing. “The winner will be excused from testing next week. In fact, the winner won’t be required to attend class at all. Sound appealing?”

Few things the instructors offered had ever sounded more appealing. Tahl’s eyes slid across the room. Colbin was already looking his way. The other student raised a brow as if to ask.

Tahl had already returned his gaze to the slate on the wall. His interest in watching the illustration emerge should have said everything.

“What you’re looking for is a simple ring. Plain gold, no inscriptions, but it contains a flickering light and may feel warm to the touch. It looks something like this.” The drawing was so bland it provided nothing useful, but the instructor still waved a hand beneath it as if to emphasize how important it was they look. “However, you’re unlikely to see it with your eyes. Your challenge is to find it using your Gift.”

Tahl resisted the urge to slump. It was no secret his power was lacking. It was a wonder he’d made it this far. If magic was required to find the ring, they may as well rule him out already.

And yet, he found himself thinking. He cocked his head to the side, studying the boring shape of the ring in the drawing. Something about it struck him as familiar, though he supposed anyone who’d ever seen a ring had seen a dozen just like it.

“The ring is hidden somewhere inside the academy’s main hall,” the instructor continued. “While I am sure you’d enjoy rooting around in the private offices and quarters belonging to faculty, I must inform you they are off limits. Their private spaces will be closed off, and you will not find it behind a locked door. I will give no further hints as to its location, so let’s go over a few rules.”

Colbin made a gesture that Tahl caught out of the corner of his eye. He ignored it.

To the side of the drawing, the instructor scrawled her orders. “Number one: You will not try to gain access to any locked areas under a pretense of searching. I’ve already told you, there’s no point. Number two: Once the ring is in someone’s hand, the game is over. Anyone who tries to seize the ring by force after it’s been claimed will be disqualified.”

“What about using force to keep someone from claiming it?” another student asked. A few laughs rose, but the instructor seemed unimpressed. Still, she turned to face them, her chalk pinned lengthwise between her index fingers.

“You may use this time to practice your magecraft however you see fit. But anyone who causes damage to the academy or its furnishings will be disqualified, as will anyone who causes injury to your classmates.”

Dismayingly, a handful of students signed or mumbled in disappointment. Tahl, for one, appreciated the rule. He could hold his own in a scuffle, but only if the fight was fair. He’d been ganged up on enough to know his classmates didn’t appreciate his tricksome ways.

He hadn’t planned to change just for a game.

“There are no other rules. Should you somehow stumble across the ring’s location without use of your Gift, you will not be penalized, but the odds of that are practically nonexistent. Whoever finds the ring, you’ll be expected back in this classroom for a week. The rest of you are due back tomorrow. Good luck.” She dismissed them with a wave of her hand and turned to put down the chalk.

Most of the students flew from their seats and ran for the door. Tahl lingered, scratching a few hasty notes on a scrap of paper left from the day’s studies.

“You are dismissed,” the instructor said firmly, her eyes fixed on him.

“I know. I’m sensing.” He tore his notes from the corner of the paper and stuffed them into his pocket. “I mean, you never said it wasn’t in here.” He scanned the classroom with a thoughtful frown. The space was all but empty; there was an unfamiliar girl at the back, still taking notes, and Colbin hovered near the door. Wanting to speak to him, no doubt.

Tahl pushed himself from his desk and trudged toward the door.

As expected, Colbin rounded the doorframe to walk alongside him. “Hey,” he said, breathless from whatever nerves he’d worked up by waiting. “Should we team up?”

“Team up?” Tahl fought to keep his face from scrunching. “What’s the point of teaming up? There’s only one prize.”

“Yeah, and I thought… I mean, with your Gift and all, maybe…” Colbin stumbled over his words and gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m trying to help you, okay?”

“Ah, because my Gift is lacking and inferior,” Tahl replied flatly.

Colbin opened his mouth a few times, then shut it with a frown.

They’d been over it all before. Tahl’s power was lacking. It was a miracle he’d been accepted into the academy at all. Well, a miracle and nepotism. He responded with a grim smile. “The ring is a fire element.” And while Tahl’s Gift wasn’t strong, it was based in fire.

“So you’re going to do it?”

“Do what, try?” Tahl snorted. “For a week out of that stuffy classroom, I’d try a lot of things.” And he already had a plan, besides.

All around them, students ran. Some lingered outside doors or in the middle of hallways, squinting and concentrating. Tahl envisioned what it might feel like to have magic strong enough to believe you could find something so small. He could sense every mage around him, but their power signatures were bold, beacons of strength that hung in his senses at any given time. They helped him navigate the hallways now, veering from one side to the other as young mages scurried about, narrowly avoiding collision.

Colbin stayed right on his heels. “You don’t really think you stand a chance on your own, though?”

“I do, and the fact you’re still following me means you do, too.” And the longer Colbin followed him, the harder it would be for Tahl to do what he needed. He clenched his fists at his sides and started up the stairway to the students’ rooms.

“What? No! I’m just trying to—would you slow down?” Colbin’s hand closed on Tahl’s training robe and pulled him off balance.

Tahl spat something his mother would have chastised him for and curled to land on his shoulder. Colbin followed with a yelp of his own, but Tahl kicked off the wall and tumbled down the rest of the stairs to land on his feet as his companion crashed to the floor.

“You’re on your own,” Tahl snapped as he sprinted up the stairs.

Behind him, Colbin rolled onto his back and groaned.

More than a few mages turned toward him, their eyes harsh and judging in the wake of the noise. Tahl ignored them and lit down the hallway, darting between his classmates as they searched inside vases and behind wall hangings. His room was just ahead, and what he needed was inside.

His assigned roommate was gone. Good. He breathed a sigh of relief, shut the door, and crossed the room. The far wall hosted a decorative sconce between beds. It was near the ceiling, just out of reach, and he leaped onto the desk to reach it.

The first tug yielded no results. Tahl gritted his teeth, braced a foot against the wall, and pulled hard.

The sconce creaked.

“Come on,” he growled.

“Tahl—” Colbin started as he opened the door.

The sconce broke and Tahl fell backwards as it flew out of his hands and crashed into the wall beside the door.

Colbin shrieked as the sconce hit the wall and shattered.

Instead of hitting the floor hard, Tahl tucked into a backwards roll and came up on his feet.

“You tried to kill me!” Colbin cried.

Tahl snorted. “You just came into my room without knocking, I don’t think anyone would blame me.” The sconce being in pieces was a benefit; he knelt beside it to dig through the bits of metal and broken glass. It wasn’t hard to find what he wanted.

“But you could have seriously wounded me! You could have gotten disqualified, and then—”

“I got it!” Tahl jumped to his feet and held a fist aloft.

Colbin gawked. “What?” His brow furrowed with concentration and Tahl assumed it meant he was probing with his magic.

In response, Tahl lowered his hand and displayed the gold ring in his palm. Light flickered as if it hovered just underneath the metal’s surface, and a thin curl of smoke wafted upward.

“You—what did—how—” Colbin sputtered.

Tahl clasped his hand around the ring again and pushed past him into the hall. A half-dozen mages turned toward him, frozen in place with their faces in various states of dismay.

Colbin trailed along at his heels as he descended the stairs and wound his way back to the classroom they’d only just abandoned. Inside, their instructor stood wiping chalk from the wall slate.

“Ma’am,” Tahl said as he stepped inside. “I believe this is what you’re looking for?”

Her eyebrows climbed and she started to protest, but he presented the ring between his fingers and brought her up short. Instead of a protest, her mouth fell open with silence.

He strode forward and reached for her hand to present the ring. Students clustered outside the door to stare as he cradled her hand in his and pressed the ring into her palm.

A storm flitted through the instructor’s eyes, but it halted when she looked down at the ring in her hand. Whatever objection she’d thought to give, she reconsidered when she tilted her fingers and the ring slid across her skin.

“A week, you said.” Tahl flashed her a smirk and jammed his hands into the pockets of his robe. “So I’ll see you then.”

“Yes,” the instructor said slowly, a wrinkle forming between her brows as she evaluated the shifting light on the ring’s surface.

The students at the door scattered when Tahl pushed through, but he was unsurprised when Colbin jogged to catch up with him.

“All right, Tahl. How’d you do it? How’d you know the ring was in your room, of all places?”

“It wasn’t.” That was the best part. Tahl smirked. He’d have to clean up the shattered sconce later, but he’d do that a dozen times for a week off from studies he hated.

Colbin’s step faltered.

“What do you mean?”

“It was just a bit of metal the right shape. A smoke trick and some mage-light set in a cycle to hold itself.”

“And she fell for that?”

Tahl chuckled. She hadn’t. Not at first. Not until he’d slid the real ring from her finger while handing it over, leaving her confused but unable to argue. “Sometimes,” he said with a sigh of satisfaction, “the best way to win is to cheat.” He snapped his fingers, spawning a plume of smoke before he tucked his hands back into his pockets.

The real ring rolled against his fingertips.

 

Many Crowns

In my experience, there are three things that scream “fantasy” like nothing else: Swords, dragons, and crowns.

Between me and my husband, we already had quite a few swords in the house. I also had a shelf full of dragons. Figurines, statues, little stone carvings. But what I didn’t have was crowns.

Not long ago, I noticed a big uptick in ads on social media sites promoting jewelry companies that “made” crowns. Yet all of them had the same photos of these supposed artisan crafts. Sure, they were stunning, but it also wasn’t hard to determine they were mass-produced. A lot of them were “marked down” to prices that seemed reasonable at first; somewhere between $25 and $40 for most pieces. But I couldn’t help wondering if I’d be able to find the same thing elsewhere, without the retailer markup.

I began my exploration on sites like eBay, where I find a lot of wholesale lace and other things for my crafts. It seemed reasonable to think I might be able to find some crowns there, too. I did, but not as many as I hoped, and the prices were better, but not great. Yet again, all the sellers used the same photos for identical products.

Ultimately, I ended up browsing places like AliExpress. Ali is hit-and-miss for quality, legitimacy, and, well, whether or not you get what you ordered at all. But I finally hit some luck there, finding a lot of the same crowns for prices between $6 and $10, with shipping included. A few incredible choices were $5 or less, but I decided to be reasonable. I had seen and liked one crown early on, when browsing the boutique sites rather fraudulently passing off the crowns as their own work. I’d thought $30 was reasonable for a pretty crown, so I told myself I’d spend that much. For that amount, shipping included, I ended up getting a crown, a circlet, and two tiaras.

Of the group, the green one is my favorite. It’s also the one that was the cheapest, costing me a whole three dollars. It’s the prettiest, in my opinion, and is also the easiest to wear. It has loops for pins, but they aren’t necessary to hold it in place. Coincidentally, this one also seems to be my daughter’s favorite, and she has asked me to get one for her, too.

The most “okay” was the circlet, which unfortunately proved harder to wear than I expected. While it’s easy to bend to fit any head size or shape, I’ve found it’s hard to keep it from sliding, and it doesn’t present a lot of functionality for using pins, either.

Below the green tiara in the list of favorites is the fleur-de-lis crown, which also has loops for pins, but is perfectly wearable without them. In fact, if you’ve got a small head like mine, it might be better to bend the loops out of the way or else cut them off and file the stumps left behind, because they prevent the crown from sitting lower on your head—which would keep the crown in place just fine.

Most disappointing was the blue and crystal tiara, which wasn’t at all the shape I anticipated. I thought it would have arms like the green tiara, but it’s more of a false front. It’s too wide to wear against an updo, and it looks too big and out of place high up on the head. It won’t stay on without hair pins, but there’s no way to pin it to anything that would cause it to stand upright. As a result, this one has yet to be worn, and it’s also hard to use in photo layouts for social media. I think it would be nice with some modification. Maybe give it a band so it could be worn more normally. But I haven’t had time to fiddle with it, and I might try to find something that works a little better on its own. I’m not heartbroken, since this one was maybe $6, so it’s not a huge loss if I can’t figure it out.

After I had the crowns all together, though, I noticed I’d two major mistakes.

I need something that’s plain silver, and I didn’t get anything red.

Which one do you like best?

Little Figures

I’ve enjoyed the idea of having physical representations of my story characters since I started writing Snakesblood Saga, many years ago. I’ve shared the various dolls I’ve created here, and they’re a big part of my presence on social media, too. But over time, big dolls presented big problems.

Eventually, you’re out of room.

So I went smaller for Spectrum Legacy. Instead of my big 65 to 70cm dolls, I decided to do little ones. At first, I planned to repaint Monster High dolls, but I couldn’t find base dolls I liked for some of the face shapes. I might revisit that plan someday, but for now, the right choice for Spectrum ended up being chibis. I recently finished my first, and of course, it’s Zaide.

And while it was fun, there were some unique challenges I didn’t anticipate. Learning to 3D sculpt hair, for example. Figuring out how to keep the outfit simple and thin enough that the doll would still pose. Working out how to make his feet, because his boots are just that–they’re actually feet that connect to the doll’s leg with a little peg piece. And surprisingly, the sword ended up being the hardest to work out of all, because getting that iridescent/holographic shine took a lot of brainstorming. The solution was ultimately simple.

I recorded bits and pieces of the creation process and shared it on YouTube which you can see here if you’re interested:

But the process of making him and getting pieces together to start working on other characters from the series made me wonder how many more characters I can create.

I certainly still intend to see the Spectrum crew made, or at least, most of them: I’ve got Zaide, and soon I’ll be making Lark, Tula, Andriun, and Gadranus… who should be interesting, because I’ll have to figure out how to make some teeny tiny armor.

It also made me want to create chibis for other characters… some of whom already have doll forms. But come on, I drew really cute chibis for Rune and Firal that became stickers to go with Snakesblood, and now I could make them into Nendoroids, too? It’s an adorable idea, you have to admit it.

Regardless of the others from other series, though, I need to start work on the next Spectrum character soon. But who should I make next? What do you think? Which character should be the first at Zaide’s side?

Mage colors

Over the weekend, I shared a video about customizing a Nendoroid doll into Zaide, the main character from Spectrum Legacy. While most of my commentary surrounding the character was related to how his appearance was influenced by our dog, who just passed, I also spent a little time discussing the mages in Snakesblood Saga, and why their use of the white and blue color scheme made me hesitant to use the same for Zaide. Likewise, most of the discussion about the project was condolences for the loss of our very sweet pet (thank you, she is missed!) there was one message I received via social media that expressed curiosity about my reasons for the mechanic when it comes to the mages in Snakesblood.

If you’ve read the books, you know that all the mages eventually end up with white hair and blue eyes. If you haven’t, then here’s the gist. In the Snakesblood universe (and the world of Ithilear) the changing color of hair and eyes is a sign of mastery over their craft.

They’re also a simultaneous indication of the mage’s victory over power, and their failure to successfully wield true power. To be recognized as a Master mage, evidence of the two changes must be shown, but they don’t necessarily appear in the same order.

Whitening of the hair usually happens first. When a mage pushes themselves too far, they run the risk of having their power literally unmake them. But that boundary lies in a different place for every mage, and learning where it is means setting one foot across it and then successfully coming back from the brink of death. Master mages must learn to skirt that line, access as much power as possible and refuse to let it take them. Such an experience results in extreme physical trauma, and that trauma–especially when repeated–eventually results in white hair. Truthfully, it’s just premature graying, a result of the perpetual stress on their minds and bodies that comes with the trials of magecraft. That hardly sounds glamorous, though, and nature of the mages themselves means the whitening of hair is enshrined as a rite of passage and a mark of incredible strength and prestige. However, that doesn’t stop some mages from making an effort to hide their new grays. Especially those who may be a little more vain.

The changing color of a mage’s eyes is a little different. It’s not so much that the eyes change color, as that they lose color. Magic is an energy that manifests itself in a number of ways, and one of those manifestations is light. Free mages are those who can touch pure power, unfettered, and it reacts to them accordingly. Funneling such power and letting it blaze freely as part of one’s spirit is reflected in one’s eyes. But those born without a natural resistance to such power find themselves drained by it, rather than enriched, and it results in the eyes–the window to the soul–having color stripped away as magic beyond what they can handle slowly chews at their spirit. For some mages, this is a deeply emotional experience, as they may feel the loss of color robs them of part of their identity, but it’s considered a necessary sacrifice in the name of power.

In some ways, that’s what makes it fun to use the same colors for Zaide in Spectrum Legacy. It stands the expectation on its head, and instead of being a powerful mage, Zaide has no power at all.

Next year, I’m taking summer off

Of course, I guess it could be said I’m taking this summer off, too. The difference is, I didn’t plan for it, so dealing with it is a whole lot harder. I have things I need to do. Contracts I need to complete. Deadlines I’d still like to meet. But this summer has been the most demanding I’ve ever had to deal with. The odds of getting those things done?

I’m starting to think they’re pretty slim.

In fact, in the past 6 weeks, I’ve gotten almost nothing done. I accomplished a tiny bit of writing in June, and that’s the extent of my achievements.
Worst of all, I should have seen it coming.

Oh well–it’s too late to do anything to salvage productivity now. There are only a few weeks left before school’s back in and we have to create a new routine. But there are lessons to be learned here:

1. Having a few goals set is ideal to keep from drifting aimlessly, but under-planning is better than the alternative.

2. I really need to start looking at the amount of time I anticipate having, then cut that in half and plan for that amount of work time instead.

3. It’s better to delay deadlines than produce inferior work trying to meet them.

That last one’s been a real chore this year, as I try to balance replacing my camera/filming setup with still getting content out. There’s the saying that anything worth doing is doing badly, and to an extent I agree in some areas: It’s better to do something to the best of your current ability than not at all, but if you have the power to stretch farther and produce something better, it’s always better to do so. I’ve kept my video schedule sparse as I try to overcome the current struggles and issues, but I do hope to return to weekly things before the end of the year. We’ll see if that works out–I’m establishing plans for August now, and trying to keep that “half of anticipated work time” thing in mind.

It’ll be rough, especially since I have a lot of catching up to do.

Artisan Magic

Each time I start a project that takes place in a new world, there’s the task of determining how the magic works. Magic has appeared in every fantasy story I’ve written, even if it hasn’t been in the forefront where it’s easily seen. In stories like Of Blood and Rain, the magic is quite mysterious, clearly influencing the world, but escaping the grasp or understanding of the main characters. In things like the Snakesblood books, it’s front and center and deeply developed, while the magic in Spectrum Legacy is a little more ambiguous, but touched on enough to provide a clear understanding of what magic can and cannot do.

Image via Ann Milovidova, Pixabay

For my latest standalone project, which is being written alongside the end of Paragon of Water, I decided to root the story in yet another world, which lets me explore a new type of power: Artisan magic.

Artisan magic is one of the focal points of the story. For a good while, the working title of the book has been Threadmancer. That won’t likely be the name the book is published under, but it might function as a series title if I eventually write more. Then again, Artisan Magic wouldn’t be a bad series name either. Hmm.

For Threadmancer, the lead character is a seamstress (something I know a little bit about, myself) with the power to sew magic into the garments she creates. And that’s an important rule for the artisan magic in this world, because magic can only inhabit things physically crafted by people with the right set of skills. Mages weave power into their creations, be they threadmancers (like our heroine) or metalmancers, who might forge a weapon or armor that bears special powers. But the mages themselves can wield no power, only what they’re able to create.

On the other side of the coin, there are the ravelers, who have the ability to strip magic from imbued objects. They’re considerably more rare, but their power has the potential to be used for wicked or for great good, as they’re the only ones who have the skill necessary to unravel dangerous curses from items made with ill intent.

Anyway, I’ve been poking along with the book for a bit now, so I thought you might enjoy a little peek into one of the building blocks for this new fantasy story. I hope to have it done by this fall, but a lot can change between now and then, so we’ll see what happens. I’ll have more to share before long.

Spectrum Sketches

As I tidied up my desk this week, I found myself flipping through the pages of my 8.5×5.5 sketchbook. It’s the one that contains a lot of cover sketches, concepts, and character chibis I’ve drawn for the Snakesblood Saga. But it also contains a lot of the rough concepts for Spectrum Legacy, some of which are things I later developed into more finished art. I’ve shared a portion of it here before, but not in sketch format, so I thought it might be fun to have a peek inside and talk a little about each piece.

Let’s get started with the first Spectrum-related sketch in the book: The artifacts.

I don’t usually get ideas right the first time, but these changed very little between the sketch and what I ultimately traced onto watercolor paper and painted. The finished versions were a lot larger than these tiny little sketches. Back when I painted these, I actually recorded it, and also spoke about each one on my blog. For your convenience, I’ll link to them, so you can see the painting if you desire. From left to right, they’re the Molten Dagger, the Vale Hymnflute, and the Captured Spring.

These were one of my first forays into working with watercolor (well, using gouache as watercolor with wet-on-wet techniques) and were super fun, but they were also one of the earliest parts of concept development for the series. I knew I wanted there to be two things: Magic artifacts, and magic abilities represented by color. It’s the reason the main artifact is the Spectrum Blade. Its power is a small portion of each other element, each color of magic. But that’s obviously explained more in-depth in the books.

On the very next page was this early sketch of Zaide and Resia.

I have no idea why I was in a more anime mood when I did the Spectrum sketches. Maybe because I’d been working on art for Snakesblood for so long that I was burned out on realistic painting and wanted to do something a little softer? Dunno.

This was another one I transferred to nicer paper, though I used colored pencil on it instead of paint. It’s also unfortunately one of those pieces where I liked the sketch a lot better than the finished illustration. It happens, sometimes.

One interesting tidbit about this sketch here though is Zaide’s ear. In the books, his left ear is truncated, having had the pointed tip cut off in some accident he doesn’t recall. This sketch was done before I’d decided to take that path in the story, which is amusing to me because it ends up being an important piece of symbolism later on!

A few pages later, we find the first concept for Tula.

Like everything else so far, I filmed the process of finishing this as a painting. Looking at it now, I can hardly believe how much this character’s direction changed! Aside from her garb and some of the colors, the Tula on the cover of Paragon of Fire seems totally different… but she’s still smiling, so I think that counts for something. She’s a peppy character, innocent and also not at all, and having her smiling on the cover of book 2 meant a lot to me. Of course, I think Michelle did a much better job portraying her than I did, but hey. I’m not the professional artist, here. I just do these for fun!

Now we’re getting into the stuff I haven’t shared in any form before, and that’s pretty neat.

If you’ve already read Spectrum Blade, you might have a guess as to who this very roughly sketched fellow might be. As you can see, having Andriun swathed in fur-lined garments has always been important, just like his spear. There are a couple elements here I still really like, such as having his coat split all the way to the hip so he has a lot of mobility in his legs, having claws on his boots to help him walk on the ice, and of course, you can see he’s holding an ice pick. Andriun will be on the cover of book 3, and I really look forward to seeing how he comes together for it.

And of course, there’s Lark, the last of the main 5.

Perhaps to be expected, but Lark ultimately has been the hardest to nail down as far as appearance and design goes. I gave her a high-collared but sleeveless shirt, which I planned to use to show a bit of muscle definition in her arms and make it clear she was someone who could hold her own, despite her regal and refined–and somewhat aloof–personality. Originally, I had some concerns that her physical appearance would be too similar to that of Tula, since they both have high ponytails. In color, they’re easy to tell apart, but I think Lark is a little more fine-featured than Tula is, so I think it’s easy enough to distinguish them in the black and white sketches. This one might be fun to paint at some point. Maybe I’ll finish it someday, but I don’t know.

Lastly, there were some attempts at chibis.

And man, they are not as graceful as the ones I did for the Snakesblood characters. I was able to save Zaide back in January, when I turned this sketch into a sticker to go with his book. I don’t think there’s any saving that rough idea for Tula, though, no matter how much I like the idea of her shading her eyes but also making a winky face because… Tula. She’s something else, I tell you.

That’s all that was in the sketchbook, though. At least, for this series. Maybe I should spend a little more time doodling?

Library dreams

You know the ones. The Pinterest libraries with the white shelves, the fairy lights, all the books.

Most of my books were a casualty of moving. They’re big and heavy, take a ton of space, and anything I didn’t love or anticipate reading (or reading again) was given away. So right away, I was going to start at a disadvantage. And while our new house came with a furnished library space, the bookshelves they’d left behind were black, and the loft was very gloomy.

How, then, is a bookworm to get an attractive library space? Without several hundred dollars to drop on new shelving?

Contact paper, I guess.

Three rolls was enough to change the backing color of all eight shelves, though I wish someone had warned me that Contact paper shrinks after application. That certainly wasn’t mentioned in any of the homey upcycling blogs where I saw people doing this. So there are visible seams between every piece, but hey, at least it’s brighter, and you can actually see the books now.

Someday, I’ll have a chance to redo it properly, but at least it’s a little more airy without a massive wall of black. And I don’t have any more books than these, unless we could my own stock that goes in the my shop of signed books, but someday I’ll fill these shelves up… or else replace them with something smaller and better-suited to the size of my literary collection.

How would you decorate a space like this? a 20-foot-long wall that hosts eight bookshelves and has no outlets?

The greatest thing I ever KonMari’d was the method

Everybody wants a house that stays clean and runs smoothly. My mom read Marie Kondo’s book and told me about it before it was popular, but it wasn’t until all my friends were on board the train that I decided I might take the time to give it a look.

Like a lot of people stuck at home in 2020, I spent a lot of time making plans for better home organization, tidying things up, culling stuff from the house. Mostly using my own methods, but I tried the KonMari way for a couple things, too. Folding my clothes that way seemed nice in my tiny drawers, and having less of anything to clean up was nice, too.

But over time, it became its own kind of frustration. It required me to fold clothes differently than what I’d been doing for more than 20 years, so it was slow and ineffective. Some things didn’t fold nicely. And as a tall person who rarely finds jeans long enough, the whole concept of having a wardrobe–or anything in my house–solely because it “sparks joy” instead of being tolerated because it meets my bare minimum needs and “better” is outside my budget soon left me with a distinct feeling of lack instead of some newfound freedom from commercialism or whatever it was supposed to be.

A sense that the basic things I found that I had to settle for weren’t good enough.
That to be efficient, I paradoxically had to give up efficiency.
And a frustration that nothing I tried seemed to make things better.

Earlier this year, I reflected on this while I folded five baskets full of laundry.  As I did so, I found myself considering how the method could be applied to many more things beyond, well, things. That led me to think about the practice itself, and as I folded a shirt the KonMari way, I decided to follow it with one folded the way I’d always done. It took more space. It wasn’t pretty in the drawer. But it took half the time, and it worked fine. I put them side by side on my bed and thought, does this spark joy?

And so all my laundry went into the drawers folded the old way.

Now I’m looking at other things in my life with the same critical eye. Obligations I signed up for, jobs I took on, social media platforms everyone swore I should try. Am I doing it because it actually helps, or is it just the popular thing? I guess it’s just like writing advice, and what so many resources tell you to do with it.

Keep what serves you. Discard all the rest.

Joy need not apply to laundry.