My mom never had a dollhouse. I had one, her grandchildren had one, but she never did.

This past summer, I decided to rectify the situation and in doing so, unlocked a whole new hobby.

The dollhouse was an intense first project. I found a partially-built, hand-made house second-hand and got to work on wiring, sanding, painting, and adding trim. Every step had a steep learning curve, from which tools I could use with the delicate bamboo trim to the creation of functional light fixtures. My husband lent a hand with the mitre saw. Our three teens helped build the fireplaces, bead the chandeliers, recovering the sofa, and sewing the bedding. 

In the end, we had a family project my mom loved. Once we added two resin cats to the house and she plugged in the USB to light the home, she deemed it perfect.

After the glue and paint finally scrubbed of my hands and all the tiny cuts and scrapes on my fingers healed, I realized I really enjoyed the project. 

This led me to my next venture: book-based miniatures.

The first one I did was for my novel Ragdolled. Using one of those lovely little faux storage books, I wandered into my new project with a Pinterest board, a vague idea of where I was going, and a lot of confidence in skills I had yet to demonstrate.

Apparently being a pantser is not limited to my writing.

Unlike the dollhouse (which was a 1:12 scale), this new piece was 1:16. Everything was miniscule. Everything was fragile. Everything was sticky and delicate and frustrating. My Modge Podge abilities were tested, my fine motor skills were refined with hours of aligning tiny beads with even tinier beads, and my patience was tested by the fine wires needed for the lighting. But I did it. I did it, and I was addicted.

This brings me to my most recent completed project: Serpent’s Tongue Ink. It’s the home-away-from-home for the Baker brothers, the gathering place where stories are shared, reputations are rebuilt, and unbreakable bonds are formed.

I decided to bring the town of Epson into the front flap, showcasing the water tower which loomed over the Baker brothers and divided the town between the haves and the have-nots. But I also wanted to bring the beauty of the town and the land around the tower to life around Birch Baker and Jocelyn Carter. This scene took a lot of time to layer, and I often had to walk away and return the next day to view it with fresh eyes.

Next came the inside of the tattoo parlour. My Ragdolled project had taught me a valuable lesson in figuring out the wiring and flooring system before getting into the fun details, so those were the first things I attacked. The battery-operated system is hidden under the floor, with the wires slipped discretely behind the shelving and wallpaper and an access panel rigged up with the tiles.

Another thing I learned with my first book nook was how to source, scrounge, and manufacture. Miniature kits were great for baseline items like the sink station and the cabinet, but dollhouse tattoo parlours require a lot of improvising. Felt squares folded and rolled made great towels and washcloths. A toothpick wrapped with tissue was a perfect paper towel roll. A sewing machine charm cut in half made for a decent tattoo machine. Beads of all sizes and colors brought elegance and detail, while wood shards with painted tips were ideal stand-ins for pencils.

Once it was complete, this project gave me a tangible piece of the Serpent’s Tongue Ink series. Through every step, I had to consider what Birch would hang on his walls, what colors he would choose, and how he would prep his work space. In the future, I’ll be creating miniature book nooks for River’s, Grey’s, and Winter’s stories and I already know each one will bring another piece of their world to life.

Who would’ve guessed when I jumped into an impromptu birthday gift for my mom that I would open up an entirely new creative outlet?  

About the Author.

Katja Desjarlais is a music teacher by day and a paranormal romance writer by moonlight. She is an unapologetic music addict with an obsession for bad Bach puns despite her irrational aversion to Baroque. Her favorite words include ‘plethora’ and ‘dapper’, and she is physically repulsed by the word ‘moist’. Katja’s interest in the paranormal can be traced to her early childhood movie choices and to the collection of books she has stored on her phone for reading emergencies.

Desjarlais lives in northern Canada with her husband, three children, and polydactyl cat. Her summers are spent driving across North America with her family, while the long Canadian winters are made more bearable by attending heavy metal concerts.