Now that it has been firmly established...

that I am NOT a novelist, I am back to the serious subject of this blog: Dolly Diva Design. That is, providing designs for the miniature divas so that their insatiable desire for wonderful gowns, chic suits, elegant cocktail dresses, glamourous casual outfits, attractive sport clothes and like that, which they have been less than patiently awaiting since this blog was begun and for which it came into being in the first place. 

I will venture, once more, to predict that this true purpose is not as far in the offing as those who have patiently, or even impatiently or possibly feel it is in vain they have waited for the actualization of this event to occur.  

I am not promising anything, remember, until I have real and present articles of clothing to offer for the wee women and, in some cases, the wee women themselves, with pictorial proof of same appearing somewhere in your immediate vicinity, dear readers. Keeping that fact firmly in mind, here is a bit of information you might find of interest. The first things slated for offer here will be the outfits in which many of the ladies—some with said ladies actually in them, if anyone so desires—came clothed from their point of manufacture. 

I have entirely too many of these creatures to be able to take care of them all in the manner to which they are entitled, not to mention which they demand. They have not failed to remind me of this in a constant and consistant, though silent, remonstrance daily, nay, hourly as they stand about or, worse yet, languish in their boxes, worse still, in my closets or—horror, woe—the garage, even though they are carefully wrapped and protected from any dust or other dangers. Many of them have never even seen the light of day. Those are the ones that are hoarse from constant yelling at me about something something neglected something something unfair and like that.

So, not writing novels a done deal, I am at last prepared to begin to start to put together this blog as a source of supply for your current fashion mini-divas, and for filling in holes in your collections of original clothing or special convention outfits, accessories and clothed dolls of the past say, fifteen or so years, such as  Gene Marshall, Madra Lord, or Violet Waters, for example, and others more recently arrived on the scene. The Tonner ladies are also in the lineup in various outfits, a couple of which are Thèatre de la Mode numbers, for example. Then there is the amazingly posable and adorable Vita and company with a whole new vista opening before us—not to mention a whole new list of wants and must haves. Sigh. All that is needed is to bring them forth, fluff up their hairdos and steam their outfits and they will be ready for presentation. If they have never left their boxes, they will have to remain as is until they reach their new homes. 

The month of December will be spent cataloging, preping and photographing these ladies—or at least the ones who are thoroughly disgusted with me and insist on departing for other locales. They long for the limelight and public display where they will be appreciated properly and not kept in some dark and confining BOX, for heaven's sake, but put out where they can be admired—and catered to, please.

So, things are looking up here at Dolly Diva Designs, now that the only things remotely "novel" will be putting these ladies out where they can be given proper attention and provided with the numberless items with which they can be adorned and in which their beauty and charm can be properly displayed. 

Stay tuned!

Anybody want to tell me...

how it got to be FALL all of a sudden? It seems to me that it was summer just a few days ago. Sigh. I'm working diligently on...writing a novel. Yeah. That's what I said.

Maybe somebody out there in dollyland has heard of NaNoWriMo?

First of all here is a little something they put out on their site:

What in the world is that, you ask? Well, it stands for: NationalNovelWritingMonth. See? What do the underlined letters make? NaNoWriMo, of course! Thousands (I'm not kidding) of people all over the world pledge to write a novel in a month (November)—the folks who designed the project calculate that 50,000 words constitute a "novel" in this context at least—at high speed, throwing as much caution as you can muster to the winds and just letting the words flow. Some few people in the madly typing mass of would-be novelists are actually in pursuit of fame and fortune. The rest of us are mainly doing this to try to unclog the pipeline so some real work will be released, once we write something that is total trash and nobody expects more because of the breakneck speed at which we are working. If you divide 50,000 by 30, what do you get? *madly keying in the numbers in my online calculator* Well, this is what you get: 1666.666666666666666666666666........................... and so on, words—wait for it: A DAY. 

Now if this were say, TALKING? I would have my quota of words out before breakfast and the rest of the day would be, you know, like, free. But it isn't really like TALKING unless someone were following one around with a tape recorder hoping to pick up something wonderful falling from one's lips. I'm lucky when nothing disgusting, like crumbs or something, is falling from my lips. One must actually think up and type that many words every day for 30 days. *runs around room screaming and tearing out hair—making cat look funny*

But I digress. In this wonderfully freeing idea that no one is going to actually read, or even more horrifying, grade or in any way critique my, um, "novel" I can write any and every little thing that comes into my so-called mind. So far, there's actually a sort of murdery mystery sort of thing evolving, taking place last century, in the '60s in Louisiana, just north of Lake Pontchartrain (I even learned to spell that by writing this "novel"—proud of me yet?) in the swamps of the Pearl River. Because I've got an asignment of sorts but no one is going to grade me except on actually writing enough words and doing it for thirty days running, and I could write "Pontchartrain is a lovely lake" 10,000 times and make my quota, instead I do what I've tried to do before but failed. I could write an actual mini-book (50,00 is not a very long book after all) telling a real made-up story with a plot that goes from point A to point A and a half (knowing me) and it would still count. The whole idea of this deal is: You break through all your fears and bad habits and fears and laziness and fears... You get the picture?

And it becomes easier. You don't worry. You just think and type. I used to make up stories when I was a kid home alone having to entertain myself. But the minute I started trying to write them down? Ayeeeeee! Someone might see it and, you know, laugh and poke fun and say, "I suppose you think this is a real story or something." and I'd have to say, "Yeah, I think it is something but mostly it's something like nothing...you know, it sucks and all, and l can't really do this and I know it's an abomination and I should never even look at a crayon again much less a typewriter (yeah, we had those back in the day) and okay, I quit."

But this is fun and I'm having it! So. I'll get back to dollies again soon...MY soon, not necessarily YOUR soon, okay? I've got to do this. It's kind of like writing this blog but more like the blog would be if it were, like, say, a novel. Heh.

Love to all and the dollies and their doings and possibly I will get back to them soon, and even start sewing them some glamourous duds and making patterns for same and like that... I know, promises promises. Well, you never know. I never thought I would be 15600+ words into a novel either. Here's my wisdom of the day in a slogan wrapped in an enigma, etc. etc...."Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first!"

This is just a short 30-day "dessert" detour. You've been through those and even longer hiatuses—or however the plural goes—with me before. So, see you again back in Dollyland soon! (That's my idea of "soon" etc. etc. see above the paragraph above this paragraph...um, above.)