Chloe Stowe's Blog: The Words and Madness of Chloe Stowe, page 19
December 26, 2011
"Blitzen and Hellesgate: A Match Made in Madness" - Day Eight of the Shafts of Torchlight Preview Event
As release day for book #3 of the Hellesgate Series nears (tomorrow, folks!) and the last reindeer of our WWII love games has arrived, I’d like to take a few moments to re-introduce you to Shafts of Torchlight’s locale, a crazy little place called Hellesgate…
Hellesgate is a little town of about 500 citizens in southwestern Kansas. It has a post office, a small store, a gas station, a granary and a row of neat tiny houses running up Main Street. At first glance, Mayberry comes to mind, but fair warning: there are no Opie’s here.
Bingham Daughtry is an old, old man who runs the post office. He was a sniper in the Korean War and never got out of the habit of calling his gun his best friend. He’s famous for his hard lemonade and the senility he flirts with daily. He is a loyal man who says what’s on his mind and who defends the few he calls his friends with vigor and when necessary with violence.
The Eastons, Iona and Elwood, run an apple orchard on the outskirts of town. Iona babies her apple trees and her husband with an equal but fierce passion. While the couple were never blessed with children of their own, they were blessed with Cane, their nephew. Having raised him since he was a baby, they consider Cane their own and would gladly defend him with their lives.
May Shaw is an eccentric girl. A beautiful woman in her twenties, she is as slight as a thistle and as winsome as the prairie wind. She loves Cane Summerfield with a passion which frequently crosses over into the obsessive. Her stalking tendencies have mellowed some through the years but her incendiary love of Cane has not.
Jefferson Shaw is May’s brother. With all the passion with which May loves Cane, Jefferson hates him with equal fire. Convinced that Cane has somehow wronged his sister, Jefferson has vowed to destroy Cane’s life… that is if he ever sobers up enough to figure out how.
This is Hellesgate, Kansas. It is an environment rich with love, hate and fire. It is the bed in which Cane Summerfield and Matthew Archer’s love was sparked and their family was born. I hope you will drop by for a visit tomorrow and be sure to bring your friends and enemies – after all, there’s something for everybody (be it murder, mayhem or momentous love) in Hellesgate, Kansas.
However, Matthew and Cane’s love and adventures are by no means limited to Kansas. Denver, Colorado plays a crucial role in Shafts of Torchlight, a backdrop to a dangerous night in which lives are threatened and love is tested…
Chapter Seven: Sleet in Denver
“Standing there alone at a frosted window Matthew missed the brush of arm against his arm, the tickle of breath against his neck, the sound of his own voice tangled in the sound of his husband’s.” (page 85)
Well, I believe I have flapped my jaws enough for today. Tomorrow I’ll give you a recap of the histories of Matthew and Cane and their little girl, Sahara. Until then, I leave you with the final reindeer of our WWII games…
I imagine Blitzen to be…
An assassin. He is a man who is sent in as a war’s last resort. He must blend in, get lost among the maddening crowd… until the final shot can be had. He trusts no one but his own gun. While he once hated his role as reaper, he views it now as a mission of mercy. The atrocities of the war have changed him, hardened him. In the mirror, Blitzen no longer recognizes himself. Who he will be after the war, if there is an “after the war” for him, only God knows. Until then his crosshairs are set on only one man… a man who is responsible for hundreds of deaths or so the intelligence alleges. When the truth of his target’s actions come to light, will it be enough to convince Blitzen to betray his own orders to save one good man’s life? Or will his own heart feel the cold death of his own assassin’s bullet?
Until tomorrow (Release Day!!!)…
Chloe Stowe and her Hellesgate homies.
Hellesgate is a little town of about 500 citizens in southwestern Kansas. It has a post office, a small store, a gas station, a granary and a row of neat tiny houses running up Main Street. At first glance, Mayberry comes to mind, but fair warning: there are no Opie’s here.
Bingham Daughtry is an old, old man who runs the post office. He was a sniper in the Korean War and never got out of the habit of calling his gun his best friend. He’s famous for his hard lemonade and the senility he flirts with daily. He is a loyal man who says what’s on his mind and who defends the few he calls his friends with vigor and when necessary with violence.
The Eastons, Iona and Elwood, run an apple orchard on the outskirts of town. Iona babies her apple trees and her husband with an equal but fierce passion. While the couple were never blessed with children of their own, they were blessed with Cane, their nephew. Having raised him since he was a baby, they consider Cane their own and would gladly defend him with their lives.
May Shaw is an eccentric girl. A beautiful woman in her twenties, she is as slight as a thistle and as winsome as the prairie wind. She loves Cane Summerfield with a passion which frequently crosses over into the obsessive. Her stalking tendencies have mellowed some through the years but her incendiary love of Cane has not.
Jefferson Shaw is May’s brother. With all the passion with which May loves Cane, Jefferson hates him with equal fire. Convinced that Cane has somehow wronged his sister, Jefferson has vowed to destroy Cane’s life… that is if he ever sobers up enough to figure out how.
This is Hellesgate, Kansas. It is an environment rich with love, hate and fire. It is the bed in which Cane Summerfield and Matthew Archer’s love was sparked and their family was born. I hope you will drop by for a visit tomorrow and be sure to bring your friends and enemies – after all, there’s something for everybody (be it murder, mayhem or momentous love) in Hellesgate, Kansas.
However, Matthew and Cane’s love and adventures are by no means limited to Kansas. Denver, Colorado plays a crucial role in Shafts of Torchlight, a backdrop to a dangerous night in which lives are threatened and love is tested…
Chapter Seven: Sleet in Denver
“Standing there alone at a frosted window Matthew missed the brush of arm against his arm, the tickle of breath against his neck, the sound of his own voice tangled in the sound of his husband’s.” (page 85)
Well, I believe I have flapped my jaws enough for today. Tomorrow I’ll give you a recap of the histories of Matthew and Cane and their little girl, Sahara. Until then, I leave you with the final reindeer of our WWII games…
I imagine Blitzen to be…
An assassin. He is a man who is sent in as a war’s last resort. He must blend in, get lost among the maddening crowd… until the final shot can be had. He trusts no one but his own gun. While he once hated his role as reaper, he views it now as a mission of mercy. The atrocities of the war have changed him, hardened him. In the mirror, Blitzen no longer recognizes himself. Who he will be after the war, if there is an “after the war” for him, only God knows. Until then his crosshairs are set on only one man… a man who is responsible for hundreds of deaths or so the intelligence alleges. When the truth of his target’s actions come to light, will it be enough to convince Blitzen to betray his own orders to save one good man’s life? Or will his own heart feel the cold death of his own assassin’s bullet?
Until tomorrow (Release Day!!!)…
Chloe Stowe and her Hellesgate homies.
December 25, 2011
"Donner" - Day Seven of the Shafts of Torchlight Preview Event
Merry Christmas!
I apologize for the lateness of the post today but I’ve got a village full of elves to back me up that I’ve actually been busy merry-making and making the world a jolly place to “ho-ho!’”
Forget the wrapping paper, bows and ribbons; let’s just get to the goodies…
Chapter Six: Playing Dirty
“You like when I play dirty.” Cane winced and then abandoned the military stance altogether as he got a whiff of the candies. Holding out his hand, he revised, “Ok, forget that I just said that. Give me a rum ball.” (page 82)
Wow. I provided you with smut and a rum ball. How very festive of me. I will, therefore, forgo the tinseling of your dear heads in lieu of gifting you with “Donner’s” WWII reindeer game…
I imagine Donner to be…
An ambulance driver in the heart of Vienna. A broken leg when he was five that had followed him into his adulthood as a nasty limp had prevented Donner from military duty. He considers the disability as a blessing now as his loyalty has turned away from the Germans who occupy his homeland. Now, the only ones that he serves are the people of his Vienna, a people who must survive the bombs of the Allies to see the light of a free day. As he risks his life to bring an old woman to safety, Donner meets a man who could save a hundred lives… if only the man wanted to. Will Donner be able to set the man straight before more than lives are lost, but hearts as well?
I won’t keep you long today, nor will I ply you with the less than sane details of my life. You can thank me by returning tomorrow when I’m sure I can dole out some whine and questionable wisdom for your entertainment and my mental health (no snickering, people.)
Have a blessed Christmas night and may this eve be the best of your life so far.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe Stowe
I apologize for the lateness of the post today but I’ve got a village full of elves to back me up that I’ve actually been busy merry-making and making the world a jolly place to “ho-ho!’”
Forget the wrapping paper, bows and ribbons; let’s just get to the goodies…
Chapter Six: Playing Dirty
“You like when I play dirty.” Cane winced and then abandoned the military stance altogether as he got a whiff of the candies. Holding out his hand, he revised, “Ok, forget that I just said that. Give me a rum ball.” (page 82)
Wow. I provided you with smut and a rum ball. How very festive of me. I will, therefore, forgo the tinseling of your dear heads in lieu of gifting you with “Donner’s” WWII reindeer game…
I imagine Donner to be…
An ambulance driver in the heart of Vienna. A broken leg when he was five that had followed him into his adulthood as a nasty limp had prevented Donner from military duty. He considers the disability as a blessing now as his loyalty has turned away from the Germans who occupy his homeland. Now, the only ones that he serves are the people of his Vienna, a people who must survive the bombs of the Allies to see the light of a free day. As he risks his life to bring an old woman to safety, Donner meets a man who could save a hundred lives… if only the man wanted to. Will Donner be able to set the man straight before more than lives are lost, but hearts as well?
I won’t keep you long today, nor will I ply you with the less than sane details of my life. You can thank me by returning tomorrow when I’m sure I can dole out some whine and questionable wisdom for your entertainment and my mental health (no snickering, people.)
Have a blessed Christmas night and may this eve be the best of your life so far.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe Stowe
December 24, 2011
"Faith of a Misfit Toy" - Day Six of the Shafts of Torchlight Preview Event
Live from the Island of Misfit Toys… Merry Christmas Eve, everyone! We’re keeping a sharp eye to the skies for Santa while keeping our hands firmly on our pretty little meds. The last things we want on Christmas Eve are psychotic breaks. They’re messy and are generally party-downers. So here’s to keeping everyone merry and sane this December 24th!
I’ve got a real nice teaser for you today, one to tickle all of your drama-loving bones…
Chapter Five: Of Shots of Cold Water and Chasers of Fire
“The jingle and the little girl disappeared.” (page 65)
Are you intrigued? Are you setting all of your i-phones and other various electronic goodies to twirkle at you on Tuesday the 27th? Are you throwing a “Welcome Back to Hellesgate!” party Monday night? Are your guests coming dressed as Matthew, Cane or May?... Let’s hope not. This is what I was talking about keeping things sane, ok? Delusions may be fun on t.v. but they’re best left to the professionals in their straitjackets.
All kidding aside, I do hope you all have a magical day full of family, friends and faith.
Faith.
I cling to mine so much that I’m afraid it’s rather tattered and frayed. No, mine is no longer shiny and new. I’ve long since passed the point of being able to take it out at a party and showing it off as a sparkly accessory. Most of the time these days, I keep my faith wrapped tight across my chest. I’m no longer warm without it.
Occasionally, however, I let my well-worn faith show. Most of the time, it’s flashed in the tiny but bright little corners of my novels. You’ll find it in the old Hellesgate church, in Cane’s survival, in Matthew’s acceptance and in Sahara’s starry-eyed hope. And today, you’ll find it here. Read between the lines of my misfit existence and you’ll see God’s threads keeping me whole and giving me purpose.
Merry Christmas everyone. I wish you warmth and love.
Maybe it’s apropos or just dumb luck that today’s reindeer game would be Cupid…
I imagine Cupid to be…
An Army doctor whose heart leads where few will follow. It is his second tour of duty, his first embedded in the front line. His life has been one of the study of medicine. His life has been one of the search for his reason for being. He is fully prepared to die here in the war. He expects it; he almost wants it. Before he goes, however, he is determined to save as many young soldiers as his skill and his reckless bravery will allow. When he saves a man who could be a traitor, has Cupid finally saved one life too many?
Until tomorrow (a late afternoon posting)…
Chloe Stowe
I’ve got a real nice teaser for you today, one to tickle all of your drama-loving bones…
Chapter Five: Of Shots of Cold Water and Chasers of Fire
“The jingle and the little girl disappeared.” (page 65)
Are you intrigued? Are you setting all of your i-phones and other various electronic goodies to twirkle at you on Tuesday the 27th? Are you throwing a “Welcome Back to Hellesgate!” party Monday night? Are your guests coming dressed as Matthew, Cane or May?... Let’s hope not. This is what I was talking about keeping things sane, ok? Delusions may be fun on t.v. but they’re best left to the professionals in their straitjackets.
All kidding aside, I do hope you all have a magical day full of family, friends and faith.
Faith.
I cling to mine so much that I’m afraid it’s rather tattered and frayed. No, mine is no longer shiny and new. I’ve long since passed the point of being able to take it out at a party and showing it off as a sparkly accessory. Most of the time these days, I keep my faith wrapped tight across my chest. I’m no longer warm without it.
Occasionally, however, I let my well-worn faith show. Most of the time, it’s flashed in the tiny but bright little corners of my novels. You’ll find it in the old Hellesgate church, in Cane’s survival, in Matthew’s acceptance and in Sahara’s starry-eyed hope. And today, you’ll find it here. Read between the lines of my misfit existence and you’ll see God’s threads keeping me whole and giving me purpose.
Merry Christmas everyone. I wish you warmth and love.
Maybe it’s apropos or just dumb luck that today’s reindeer game would be Cupid…
I imagine Cupid to be…
An Army doctor whose heart leads where few will follow. It is his second tour of duty, his first embedded in the front line. His life has been one of the study of medicine. His life has been one of the search for his reason for being. He is fully prepared to die here in the war. He expects it; he almost wants it. Before he goes, however, he is determined to save as many young soldiers as his skill and his reckless bravery will allow. When he saves a man who could be a traitor, has Cupid finally saved one life too many?
Until tomorrow (a late afternoon posting)…
Chloe Stowe
December 23, 2011
"Comet" - Day Five of the Shafts of Torchlight Preview Event
Today, Chloe Stowe is sitting on Santa’s lap.
“What do you want for Christmas, little girl?” Santa asks me, because, yes, I’m still a little girl with big dreams and out of this world wishes.
“I don’t know,” I answer, because there is a lesson to be learned here and if I already knew what it was this whole exercise would be silly... we wouldn’t want that, would we?
“Well, little one,” Santa smiles down wisely at me, “you can have whatever your heart desires.” (I’m imagining Edmund Gwenn as my Santa. I loved the twinkle he always had in his eyes in the original Miracle on 34th Street.) “All you have to do is ask.”
I freeze. Yep, mouth open, words on the tip of the tongue, I freeze.
Santa smiles gently at me. “Just say it, Chloe. Tell me that all you want for Christmas is a normal, healthy mind and it’s yours. No more panic, no more meds. Independence, children, a world without the words “mental illness” being stamped across your brow, it will all be yours.”
And what do I say to this dear sweet man offering me every dream I had long since given up every hope of ever having?...
“No, thank you,” I whisper with big fat tears in my eyes. “Just promise me I won’t get worse, that’s all I ask.”
“But why, Chloe?” Santa’s brow furrows. “Why not have your burden taken away completely?”
I look him straight in the eyes and confess, “Without my “burden,” without my mental illness, I wouldn’t be Chloe Stowe any more. I wouldn’t be me.” I chuckle a little sadly as I add, “And I’d miss me.”
Santa grins and kisses me on the tip of the nose. “I’d miss you, too.”
“Thank you,” I say because really isn’t that what we all want out of life, to be missed just a little when we’re gone?
“Anything else I could give you?” Santa offers before our time runs out.
I grin. “A Johnny Depp – Scott Caan sandwich would be great!” I leave out the part where I’m the meat in the sandwich because, hey, I am a lady and this is Santa Claus we’re talking about.
I’m then hurried off his knee but before I’m whisked away by his helpful elves, he lays a finger on the side of his nose and says, “”Ham” it up, little lady, but don’t sprain yourself. You’ve got blogs to write.”
And there ends my silliness of the day.
Chapter Four: With Wantonness and Ease
“The days began to roll by in a blur of moments that would only become important after…” (page 55)
Oops. I almost forgot. More silliness coming…
I imagine Comet to be…
A fighter pilot. With as much daring as skill, he strafes the Austrian skies with gunfire. Anger and a deep-seated hate fuel his every action. Having lost a brother to the first days of the war, Comet’s sole purpose in life now is revenge. But when his plane is torn from the sky over Vienna, will the man who rescues him save more than his life? Will the stranger save Comet’s heart?
Until tomorrow…
Chloe Stowe (the little girl perpetually on Santa’s knee)
“What do you want for Christmas, little girl?” Santa asks me, because, yes, I’m still a little girl with big dreams and out of this world wishes.
“I don’t know,” I answer, because there is a lesson to be learned here and if I already knew what it was this whole exercise would be silly... we wouldn’t want that, would we?
“Well, little one,” Santa smiles down wisely at me, “you can have whatever your heart desires.” (I’m imagining Edmund Gwenn as my Santa. I loved the twinkle he always had in his eyes in the original Miracle on 34th Street.) “All you have to do is ask.”
I freeze. Yep, mouth open, words on the tip of the tongue, I freeze.
Santa smiles gently at me. “Just say it, Chloe. Tell me that all you want for Christmas is a normal, healthy mind and it’s yours. No more panic, no more meds. Independence, children, a world without the words “mental illness” being stamped across your brow, it will all be yours.”
And what do I say to this dear sweet man offering me every dream I had long since given up every hope of ever having?...
“No, thank you,” I whisper with big fat tears in my eyes. “Just promise me I won’t get worse, that’s all I ask.”
“But why, Chloe?” Santa’s brow furrows. “Why not have your burden taken away completely?”
I look him straight in the eyes and confess, “Without my “burden,” without my mental illness, I wouldn’t be Chloe Stowe any more. I wouldn’t be me.” I chuckle a little sadly as I add, “And I’d miss me.”
Santa grins and kisses me on the tip of the nose. “I’d miss you, too.”
“Thank you,” I say because really isn’t that what we all want out of life, to be missed just a little when we’re gone?
“Anything else I could give you?” Santa offers before our time runs out.
I grin. “A Johnny Depp – Scott Caan sandwich would be great!” I leave out the part where I’m the meat in the sandwich because, hey, I am a lady and this is Santa Claus we’re talking about.
I’m then hurried off his knee but before I’m whisked away by his helpful elves, he lays a finger on the side of his nose and says, “”Ham” it up, little lady, but don’t sprain yourself. You’ve got blogs to write.”
And there ends my silliness of the day.
Chapter Four: With Wantonness and Ease
“The days began to roll by in a blur of moments that would only become important after…” (page 55)
Oops. I almost forgot. More silliness coming…
I imagine Comet to be…
A fighter pilot. With as much daring as skill, he strafes the Austrian skies with gunfire. Anger and a deep-seated hate fuel his every action. Having lost a brother to the first days of the war, Comet’s sole purpose in life now is revenge. But when his plane is torn from the sky over Vienna, will the man who rescues him save more than his life? Will the stranger save Comet’s heart?
Until tomorrow…
Chloe Stowe (the little girl perpetually on Santa’s knee)
December 22, 2011
"Vixen" - Day Four of the Shafts of Torchlight Preview Event
Tossing and turning, turning and tossing… that’s all I did last night and all I have to say about that is: Phooey. (Ladies and gents you have just witnessed the first time Chloe Stowe has ever used that word in her entire life. Yes, my phooey cherry has officially been popped. Was it good for you?)
Moving quickly on…
I need to write. I mean, I’ve taken the last few days off so that I could throw my beloved nephew a Tree-Trimming Party, which went splendidly last night, but cooking and decorating and general merry-making just doesn’t beat my squirrelly grey matter into submission. I’ve found that my warped brain cells are a lot like a gaggle of two-year olds on a sugar-high. I’ve got to just let them go run themselves rampant until they collapse exhausted in a corner somewhere, at which point I can finally get some sleep.
So today I am joyously diving back into my novel-making, hoping for a night free from tossing and turning and phooeys.
And to get the romantic smut train rolling, here is your next sneak peek…
Chapter Three: A Bisexual Man
“Matthew grinned. He loved when Cane got all G.I. Joe with him. It set off all of Matthew’s fight, flight or fuck responses, responses that always ended in fuck.” (page 49)
And to further stroke my imagination, here is your WWII reindeer game of the day!
I imagine Vixen to be…
A wolf in sheep’s clothing. His loyalties can be bought, his allegiance sold to the highest bidder. He is a man who truly only fights for himself. Having been betrayed by everyone in his young life, he vows to return the favor to the whole world. But is there a man out there who can earn his trust and gain his undying love? And if there is such a man will he survive the war or simply become the latest cruel twist of Vixen’s fate?
That’s it for today, folks. My gaggle of two year olds are heading for the kitchen and the knives, so I’m off to prevent bloodshed.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe Stowe
Moving quickly on…
I need to write. I mean, I’ve taken the last few days off so that I could throw my beloved nephew a Tree-Trimming Party, which went splendidly last night, but cooking and decorating and general merry-making just doesn’t beat my squirrelly grey matter into submission. I’ve found that my warped brain cells are a lot like a gaggle of two-year olds on a sugar-high. I’ve got to just let them go run themselves rampant until they collapse exhausted in a corner somewhere, at which point I can finally get some sleep.
So today I am joyously diving back into my novel-making, hoping for a night free from tossing and turning and phooeys.
And to get the romantic smut train rolling, here is your next sneak peek…
Chapter Three: A Bisexual Man
“Matthew grinned. He loved when Cane got all G.I. Joe with him. It set off all of Matthew’s fight, flight or fuck responses, responses that always ended in fuck.” (page 49)
And to further stroke my imagination, here is your WWII reindeer game of the day!
I imagine Vixen to be…
A wolf in sheep’s clothing. His loyalties can be bought, his allegiance sold to the highest bidder. He is a man who truly only fights for himself. Having been betrayed by everyone in his young life, he vows to return the favor to the whole world. But is there a man out there who can earn his trust and gain his undying love? And if there is such a man will he survive the war or simply become the latest cruel twist of Vixen’s fate?
That’s it for today, folks. My gaggle of two year olds are heading for the kitchen and the knives, so I’m off to prevent bloodshed.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe Stowe
December 21, 2011
"Behind the Silence" - Day Three of the Shafts of Torchlight Preview Event... and "Prancer" too!
Behind the silence…
During a few wakeful hours last night, I was thinking about this blog and its purpose. While obviously I use it to tease my upcoming novels (which I again thank you for continuing to read and enjoy along beside me), I do want it to have a deeper meaning. As I’ve stated before, I want this blog to be a kind of expose of life with a mental illness. I want to keep it real and sometimes even raw.
What I don’t want to do is whine. I don’t want to come across as a constant complainer, because that’s not who I am.
If I re-titled this blog it would be “Behind the silence.”
Why?
In my daily life, as I wine and dine this magnificent world, my mental illness is almost always silent. No one knows it exists except a very precious few. You might know me, might have known me for years, and you’d never be able to guess that I’m continuously waging little wars inside of my mind. I’d come across as quiet, nice, maybe a little nervous but nothing out of the ordinary.
Silence.
That is how I live with my mental illness outside of this blog. It may be cowardice, I don’t know. I think it’s more about me not wanting to complain, to whine, to fuss about the stupidest little things. I don’t want to be a bother, a burden to anyone.
Silence.
I break it here and, oftentimes, only here. I thank you for listening and for trying to understand. I thank you for allowing me to rant and rave and curse the fates here. This is the voice behind my silence. Thank you for accepting it.
Merry Christmas everyone!
Chapter Two: Snoring Dragons on Blistering Cold Days
“For his part, Frye didn’t seem surprised by the question. In fact, he cozied up to it right away. Leaning forward over his knees, Frye steepled his hands together and smiled. “I prefer something warm and thick, something you can feel in your throat as it goes down.”” (page 34)
Lest I forget my reindeer game of the day…
I imagine Prancer to be…
A man high in the Viennese society, a man rich in both ideals and money. A loyal Austrian who would give his life for the freedom of his country from the German regime, he realizes that he is more valuable to the resistance alive rather than dead. His connections with Vienna’s aristrocracy, his business dealings with the Nazi occupiers affords him opportunities that few men have in the war to sabotage the Germans from the top down. The risks he takes are great, his future a self-confessed bleak one… but when he finds a man with a heart as true as his own, has Prancer found his true reason to live or simply a wolf in sheep’s clothing?
Until tomorrow…
Chloe Stowe
During a few wakeful hours last night, I was thinking about this blog and its purpose. While obviously I use it to tease my upcoming novels (which I again thank you for continuing to read and enjoy along beside me), I do want it to have a deeper meaning. As I’ve stated before, I want this blog to be a kind of expose of life with a mental illness. I want to keep it real and sometimes even raw.
What I don’t want to do is whine. I don’t want to come across as a constant complainer, because that’s not who I am.
If I re-titled this blog it would be “Behind the silence.”
Why?
In my daily life, as I wine and dine this magnificent world, my mental illness is almost always silent. No one knows it exists except a very precious few. You might know me, might have known me for years, and you’d never be able to guess that I’m continuously waging little wars inside of my mind. I’d come across as quiet, nice, maybe a little nervous but nothing out of the ordinary.
Silence.
That is how I live with my mental illness outside of this blog. It may be cowardice, I don’t know. I think it’s more about me not wanting to complain, to whine, to fuss about the stupidest little things. I don’t want to be a bother, a burden to anyone.
Silence.
I break it here and, oftentimes, only here. I thank you for listening and for trying to understand. I thank you for allowing me to rant and rave and curse the fates here. This is the voice behind my silence. Thank you for accepting it.
Merry Christmas everyone!
Chapter Two: Snoring Dragons on Blistering Cold Days
“For his part, Frye didn’t seem surprised by the question. In fact, he cozied up to it right away. Leaning forward over his knees, Frye steepled his hands together and smiled. “I prefer something warm and thick, something you can feel in your throat as it goes down.”” (page 34)
Lest I forget my reindeer game of the day…
I imagine Prancer to be…
A man high in the Viennese society, a man rich in both ideals and money. A loyal Austrian who would give his life for the freedom of his country from the German regime, he realizes that he is more valuable to the resistance alive rather than dead. His connections with Vienna’s aristrocracy, his business dealings with the Nazi occupiers affords him opportunities that few men have in the war to sabotage the Germans from the top down. The risks he takes are great, his future a self-confessed bleak one… but when he finds a man with a heart as true as his own, has Prancer found his true reason to live or simply a wolf in sheep’s clothing?
Until tomorrow…
Chloe Stowe
December 20, 2011
"Dancer" - Day Two of the Shafts of Torchlight Preview Event
Good morning one and all. I hope Day Two has found you festively bedecked in both mind and spirit. If not allow me the pleasure of festooning you with holiday cheer and sleigh bells in the snow… or I could just get to the smut and allow any further festooning to be done by your own hand. *winks*
Chapter One: Slow and Dirty Kisses on Cocoa Flavored Lips
“The closet was dark. Cane had intentionally left the overhead light off when he had shoved a lost-looking, quickly fraying Matthew into the tiny room. He had thought that the less distractions the better, not realizing that Matthew was looking for a fight. The fact that the fight Matthew chose was with their hanging wardrobe had Cane wanting to bang his head repeatedly on their tie rack.” (page 15)
Whew! Now don’t we all feel better now that we’ve got a little romance/sex in the closet under our belts? I know it always loosens up these crazy bones of mine. Insanity is always better when you’re flexible.
Today is a shaky day. One of those days when my orange juice arrives at my mouth shaken not stirred. My elbows and knees are as weak as lemmings and my thoughts are bouncing and zinging around my head like kernels of corn in a popcorn maker. It’s real fun in Stowe-land this morning and all I want to do is to crawl under a ton of covers and take a long winter’s nap…
Sometimes mental illness is crap, folks.
So you’ll excuse me if today’s blog is a little jumpy and short. Fear not, however, you will still get your reindeer game of the day! I would never leave your imaginations hanging. *smiles*
I imagine Dancer to be…
A spy. In the dance halls of Vienna, he spins war widows around the parquet floors, offering both a shoulder and an ear to their woes. With their husbands away to the front, the women are hungry for warmth, companionship and illicit love. Dancer offers it all to them… in return for a secret shared here and there. Dancer’s male lover awaits him stateside. Will the young spy return to his old love or will a new Viennese heart waltz our hero away?
Well, that’s it for today. I wish you an afternoon of sturdy elbows and knees and little or no popcorn-ing grey matter.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe Stowe
Chapter One: Slow and Dirty Kisses on Cocoa Flavored Lips
“The closet was dark. Cane had intentionally left the overhead light off when he had shoved a lost-looking, quickly fraying Matthew into the tiny room. He had thought that the less distractions the better, not realizing that Matthew was looking for a fight. The fact that the fight Matthew chose was with their hanging wardrobe had Cane wanting to bang his head repeatedly on their tie rack.” (page 15)
Whew! Now don’t we all feel better now that we’ve got a little romance/sex in the closet under our belts? I know it always loosens up these crazy bones of mine. Insanity is always better when you’re flexible.
Today is a shaky day. One of those days when my orange juice arrives at my mouth shaken not stirred. My elbows and knees are as weak as lemmings and my thoughts are bouncing and zinging around my head like kernels of corn in a popcorn maker. It’s real fun in Stowe-land this morning and all I want to do is to crawl under a ton of covers and take a long winter’s nap…
Sometimes mental illness is crap, folks.
So you’ll excuse me if today’s blog is a little jumpy and short. Fear not, however, you will still get your reindeer game of the day! I would never leave your imaginations hanging. *smiles*
I imagine Dancer to be…
A spy. In the dance halls of Vienna, he spins war widows around the parquet floors, offering both a shoulder and an ear to their woes. With their husbands away to the front, the women are hungry for warmth, companionship and illicit love. Dancer offers it all to them… in return for a secret shared here and there. Dancer’s male lover awaits him stateside. Will the young spy return to his old love or will a new Viennese heart waltz our hero away?
Well, that’s it for today. I wish you an afternoon of sturdy elbows and knees and little or no popcorn-ing grey matter.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe Stowe
December 19, 2011
"Dasher" - Day One of the Shafts of Torchlight Preview Event
Welcome one and all to the Shafts of Torchlight Preview Event, an 8 day blogging extravaganza that is part sneak peek, part mental illness expose and part “laugh until you cry” or “cry until you laugh” madness brought to you by Chloe Stowe.
As keen holiday aficionados may have already guessed, this event has latched onto Santa’s eight tiny reindeer as its titling theme. Original? Not very, but I think it should be fun. A little dash of holiday magic is always welcome in my world.
Shall we get right to it then?
Synopsis first…
It’s Christmas night in Hellesgate, Kansas and all the world is bright.
Former New York real estate mogul Matthew Archer and injured war hero Cane Summerfield are enjoying their first holiday season together with their adopted daughter, Sahara. While the men had endured many hardships on their paths to discovering one another, their lives had finally grown peaceful while their love had only grown more vibrant…
But when you have everything, you have everything to lose.
An estranged family member with a heart of ice, a buried past that lives in a murderer’s hungry gaze, memories born of sweet violence and delicious pain… all must be met and overcome for Matthew and Cane to keep the lives and the love for which they have fought so fiercely.
However… when the path is darkest, it takes only the smallest shafts of light to lead a man home again.
As always, every day you will get a chapter title and a tiny little excerpt from that chapter. Be careful, sometimes I like to lead you astray with my choice of excerpts. I’ve got to leave some surprises for the actual novel, after all. *evil mad scientist laugh… or, in this case, mad novelist laugh*
Prologue: A Guileless Voyeur
“Rain slapped the window. The reflection of the Eiffel Tower in the glass lost all definition melting into just a stain of orange light.
“Please,” a man’s voice broke with the lightning.” (page 1)
Shafts of Torchlight was a joy to write. It was like slipping into your favorite pair of pajamas and sharing a glass of wine with an old, treasured friend. It is the third book in the Hellesgate Series, a series of novels that follow the ever-deepening relationship between former New York real estate shark Matthew Archer and Iraq War veteran Cane Summerfield. Shafts of Torchlight follows Torched and Blow Torch.
This series really resonates deeply within me as the character Cane suffers from PTSD. His battles are often a reflection of some of my mine (particularly his fight with panic attacks). I love the idea that the former soldier is able to find breathtaking love with another. Maybe this whole series is my guilty pleasure? I don’t know, but I don’t think I’ll apologize even if it is.
Two more novels in the Hellesgate Series are already in the pipeline so expect Matthew and Cane to follow you well into the new year!
This go-around I’m adding a little something extra to each of these blog posts. As I’ve chosen Santa’s 8 reindeer as my title them, I thought it was only fair to give each reindeer a little time in the romantic smut limelight. So, as I’m not too up on the ins and outs of reindeer sex, I decided to make each of the little fellas’ names a codename for a World War II soldier / spy / combatant, you get the picture. Yes, I am boldly stroking my historical romance tendencies with this, but it’s actually turned out really well and the seed of a novel has been planted in this heavily medicated brain of mine. Scary, I know.
So without further adieu or nonsense, here’s your first WWII reindeer game.
I imagine Dasher to be…
A brave WWII soldier who has been dropped behind enemy lines to set up a line of communications with resistance fighters. Finally, after a week of breathless escapes from the enemy, he manages to set up an old-fashioned telegraph network. The dots and dashes of morse code soon fill the wires. The resistance will survive but will our young Dasher?...
Keep a careful eye on each of these guys because their stories just might begin to interweave.
Now, I will let you get back to your holiday madness as my madness is calling me to pop a few Prozac. I hope you enjoyed!
Until tomorrow…
Chloe Stowe
As keen holiday aficionados may have already guessed, this event has latched onto Santa’s eight tiny reindeer as its titling theme. Original? Not very, but I think it should be fun. A little dash of holiday magic is always welcome in my world.
Shall we get right to it then?
Synopsis first…
It’s Christmas night in Hellesgate, Kansas and all the world is bright.
Former New York real estate mogul Matthew Archer and injured war hero Cane Summerfield are enjoying their first holiday season together with their adopted daughter, Sahara. While the men had endured many hardships on their paths to discovering one another, their lives had finally grown peaceful while their love had only grown more vibrant…
But when you have everything, you have everything to lose.
An estranged family member with a heart of ice, a buried past that lives in a murderer’s hungry gaze, memories born of sweet violence and delicious pain… all must be met and overcome for Matthew and Cane to keep the lives and the love for which they have fought so fiercely.
However… when the path is darkest, it takes only the smallest shafts of light to lead a man home again.
As always, every day you will get a chapter title and a tiny little excerpt from that chapter. Be careful, sometimes I like to lead you astray with my choice of excerpts. I’ve got to leave some surprises for the actual novel, after all. *evil mad scientist laugh… or, in this case, mad novelist laugh*
Prologue: A Guileless Voyeur
“Rain slapped the window. The reflection of the Eiffel Tower in the glass lost all definition melting into just a stain of orange light.
“Please,” a man’s voice broke with the lightning.” (page 1)
Shafts of Torchlight was a joy to write. It was like slipping into your favorite pair of pajamas and sharing a glass of wine with an old, treasured friend. It is the third book in the Hellesgate Series, a series of novels that follow the ever-deepening relationship between former New York real estate shark Matthew Archer and Iraq War veteran Cane Summerfield. Shafts of Torchlight follows Torched and Blow Torch.
This series really resonates deeply within me as the character Cane suffers from PTSD. His battles are often a reflection of some of my mine (particularly his fight with panic attacks). I love the idea that the former soldier is able to find breathtaking love with another. Maybe this whole series is my guilty pleasure? I don’t know, but I don’t think I’ll apologize even if it is.
Two more novels in the Hellesgate Series are already in the pipeline so expect Matthew and Cane to follow you well into the new year!
This go-around I’m adding a little something extra to each of these blog posts. As I’ve chosen Santa’s 8 reindeer as my title them, I thought it was only fair to give each reindeer a little time in the romantic smut limelight. So, as I’m not too up on the ins and outs of reindeer sex, I decided to make each of the little fellas’ names a codename for a World War II soldier / spy / combatant, you get the picture. Yes, I am boldly stroking my historical romance tendencies with this, but it’s actually turned out really well and the seed of a novel has been planted in this heavily medicated brain of mine. Scary, I know.
So without further adieu or nonsense, here’s your first WWII reindeer game.
I imagine Dasher to be…
A brave WWII soldier who has been dropped behind enemy lines to set up a line of communications with resistance fighters. Finally, after a week of breathless escapes from the enemy, he manages to set up an old-fashioned telegraph network. The dots and dashes of morse code soon fill the wires. The resistance will survive but will our young Dasher?...
Keep a careful eye on each of these guys because their stories just might begin to interweave.
Now, I will let you get back to your holiday madness as my madness is calling me to pop a few Prozac. I hope you enjoyed!
Until tomorrow…
Chloe Stowe
November 28, 2011
Day Twelve: "Gall or Guts? A Misadventure in Hope"
It’s here! The release of Peak and Thrust today means the official end to… *one more time folks, with feeling*… the “Peak and Thrust 12 Day Sneak Peek Event!” It’s been a long haul and I, for one, am glad to be rolling this 18 wheeler into Point: Destination… Ok, I apologize. Apparently my sub-conscience has been enjoying a “Smokey and the Bandit” marathon without inviting my conscience to join in. Well, I hope there was lots of buttered popcorn involved and everybody brought protection.
Now, aren’t you going to miss my quirky sense of humor? Good thing you can find a ton of it in Peak and Thrust… that’s it, folks, final plug. I’m all plugged out but please let my publisher know that I plugged well and with heart. *winks*
As my blog readership has soared this week, I wanted to end this on a particularly memorable note. But how?
I decided to give you a memory. Raw, uncut and something I’d rather forget but know I never will.
During the worst of my times at Auburn University, I skipped classes. A lot of classes. As in almost all. I’m the kid who was never in detention in school, never got a failing grade on a report card, got nothing but gold stars from my teachers. Yeah, I was that annoying kid. However annoying it was though, it was me. It was as much a part of who I was as anything else. I never, ever wanted to fail people. Seeing disappointment in a person’s face was paramount to a punch in the gut for me… Yeah, I guess you could say I was messed up even then but didn’t know it.
Anyhow, I was skipping classes. One of the worst days of that whole experience was also one of my gutsiest I must say. See if you agree…
I had signed up for an Accounting class in my sophomore year. I was pre-engineering but needed the class to meet some requirement or other. In January, I went to the first day of class. We had assigned seating. I was assigned the very first seat on the very first row. I couldn’t have been more noticeable.
The next time I stepped into that class was three months later, on the day of the final. I walked in there and sat my screwed up ass down in my front row seat and took that test the disgusted and rather galled professor handed me. There were whispers. Why the hell wouldn’t there be whispers?
For two and half hours I sat in that class and tried my hardest to pass that final. Never mind the fact that I had missed all the tests, all the assignments, everything of the class. I was determined to pass that last test.
I didn’t. Even after weeks of reading cover to cover that Accounting text book, putting terms to memory, doing every exercise that book gave me, I didn’t pass.
Come on, I didn’t deserve to. I know that.
But I tried. Even though my mind and my co-conspirator of a body wouldn’t let me sit through a single class any more, even though I was drowning in denial, embarrassment and self-hatred, I walked into that classroom on that last day and took that damned test.
What does that say about me? It certainly speaks as to how messed up I was at the time. It absolutely proves that I can be an arrogant bitch on occasion. But I’d like to think that it also shows how I never, ever let go of hope. I dragged that dried up kernel of hope in with me that final day and plopped it up on that desk in front of me.
Gall or guts? It’s your call. To me, it’s simply one of the worst days and best days of my life. Talk about ironic, huh?
Ready for your “final” sneak peek?
Chapter Eleven: Of Trellises and Beady-Eyed Rats and Endings
“Her neck crooked to the side as she looked up at Laird like a dog facing off against a yodeler. “You don’t look like one of them,” Philana accused slowly.” (page 160)
Hmm… a bit of a mystery I’ve left you with, huh? I hope it’s just enough of a tickler to welcome Peak and Thrust into your library as you have so graciously welcomed me and my craziness into your lives these past twelve days.
Until next time…
Chloe Stowe
Peak and Thrust available today at Amazon, AllRomance Ebooks and through my publisher:
http://www.ravenousromance.com/m/m/pe...
Chloe Stowe
Now, aren’t you going to miss my quirky sense of humor? Good thing you can find a ton of it in Peak and Thrust… that’s it, folks, final plug. I’m all plugged out but please let my publisher know that I plugged well and with heart. *winks*
As my blog readership has soared this week, I wanted to end this on a particularly memorable note. But how?
I decided to give you a memory. Raw, uncut and something I’d rather forget but know I never will.
During the worst of my times at Auburn University, I skipped classes. A lot of classes. As in almost all. I’m the kid who was never in detention in school, never got a failing grade on a report card, got nothing but gold stars from my teachers. Yeah, I was that annoying kid. However annoying it was though, it was me. It was as much a part of who I was as anything else. I never, ever wanted to fail people. Seeing disappointment in a person’s face was paramount to a punch in the gut for me… Yeah, I guess you could say I was messed up even then but didn’t know it.
Anyhow, I was skipping classes. One of the worst days of that whole experience was also one of my gutsiest I must say. See if you agree…
I had signed up for an Accounting class in my sophomore year. I was pre-engineering but needed the class to meet some requirement or other. In January, I went to the first day of class. We had assigned seating. I was assigned the very first seat on the very first row. I couldn’t have been more noticeable.
The next time I stepped into that class was three months later, on the day of the final. I walked in there and sat my screwed up ass down in my front row seat and took that test the disgusted and rather galled professor handed me. There were whispers. Why the hell wouldn’t there be whispers?
For two and half hours I sat in that class and tried my hardest to pass that final. Never mind the fact that I had missed all the tests, all the assignments, everything of the class. I was determined to pass that last test.
I didn’t. Even after weeks of reading cover to cover that Accounting text book, putting terms to memory, doing every exercise that book gave me, I didn’t pass.
Come on, I didn’t deserve to. I know that.
But I tried. Even though my mind and my co-conspirator of a body wouldn’t let me sit through a single class any more, even though I was drowning in denial, embarrassment and self-hatred, I walked into that classroom on that last day and took that damned test.
What does that say about me? It certainly speaks as to how messed up I was at the time. It absolutely proves that I can be an arrogant bitch on occasion. But I’d like to think that it also shows how I never, ever let go of hope. I dragged that dried up kernel of hope in with me that final day and plopped it up on that desk in front of me.
Gall or guts? It’s your call. To me, it’s simply one of the worst days and best days of my life. Talk about ironic, huh?
Ready for your “final” sneak peek?
Chapter Eleven: Of Trellises and Beady-Eyed Rats and Endings
“Her neck crooked to the side as she looked up at Laird like a dog facing off against a yodeler. “You don’t look like one of them,” Philana accused slowly.” (page 160)
Hmm… a bit of a mystery I’ve left you with, huh? I hope it’s just enough of a tickler to welcome Peak and Thrust into your library as you have so graciously welcomed me and my craziness into your lives these past twelve days.
Until next time…
Chloe Stowe
Peak and Thrust available today at Amazon, AllRomance Ebooks and through my publisher:
http://www.ravenousromance.com/m/m/pe...
Chloe Stowe
November 27, 2011
Day Eleven: "The Woman by the Fireside"
Good morning and welcome to the penultimate blog for the “Peak and Thrust 12 Day Sneak Peek Event!” Only one more day until you won’t have to hear those words again (I admit they’re a mouthful and my fingers are starting to groan every time I start typing them… bet you didn’t know fingers could groan, huh? Well, hop on my medication train and you’ll learn all sorts of cool things.)
I’ve got to say that the response to yesterday’s “For that 18 year old girl” blog was tremendous! It tied with my Thanksgiving Day “Panic Attack – blog interrupted” high.
Wow!
Thank you.
As you all seem to warm up to my confessional pieces, I’ll continue in that light until you beg me to stop. I will be turning in novel #9 (Shafts of Torchlight) Saturday, December 3 so you should get another Chloe Stowe blog spree just in time for Christmas. Yes, I am the gift that keeps on giving.
So, on to today’s peek inside my mind…
The joy of anticipation… it is one thing that my mental illness has stolen from me that I would dearly love to have back.
I’m talking about that “kid on Christmas Eve” feeling, that “crossing days off the calendar as your vacation beckons” thrill. Hey, I’m even talking about the mundane “There’s a great movie on tonight; it’ll be great to watch it” warmth that sees us all through a long week… I don’t get to have that anymore.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not so mellowed out on my meds that I don’t get giddy, that I don’t bounce on the balls of my feet like a three year old when my team wins or I get some incredible publishing news. I’m one of the more excitable people you’re likely to ever meet… there lies the sick irony.
Anticipation, the joy of knowing something really good is about to happen, filters through my brain as panic. Talk about crap.
All the same buttons are pushed in my head whether I’m clinging to a cart at Target trying not to pass out (see Thanksgiving Day blog) or am waiting for Santa to come rolling down that chimney.
Book a trip to Paris and what do I get? A bone deep dread, an immediate counting down of the hours that I have left before I have to go. We’re not talking butterflies, here. We’re talking monsters rabid and hungry in your belly and in your head… and it doesn’t go away. It stays with me until whatever it is that I was supposed to be so excited about passes in a haze of exhaustion and a general sense of “Thank God that’s over.”
It’s sad, really.
I miss sitting in front of the fireplace on Christmas Eve. I miss waiting on the “Santa’s” of life. But do you know what’s really messed up?... I still do it. I still wait by the fireplace on December 24th.
So if you’re looking for me on Christmas Eve, you’ll know where to find me. Sick, trembling, panicking, but still waiting on Santa.
Now for your sneak peek of this rainy Sunday morning…
Chapter Ten: Once Upon a Sweltering Detroit Night
“Joey kept staring out at the Alaskan night like maybe if he looked long and hard enough an answer would come riding in on the tail of a Northern Light. He shook his head and pulled his gaze away. Man, he was fucking losing it.” (page 144)
Until tomorrow (Release Day!)…
Chloe Stowe, the woman by the fireside
Chloe Stowe
I’ve got to say that the response to yesterday’s “For that 18 year old girl” blog was tremendous! It tied with my Thanksgiving Day “Panic Attack – blog interrupted” high.
Wow!
Thank you.
As you all seem to warm up to my confessional pieces, I’ll continue in that light until you beg me to stop. I will be turning in novel #9 (Shafts of Torchlight) Saturday, December 3 so you should get another Chloe Stowe blog spree just in time for Christmas. Yes, I am the gift that keeps on giving.
So, on to today’s peek inside my mind…
The joy of anticipation… it is one thing that my mental illness has stolen from me that I would dearly love to have back.
I’m talking about that “kid on Christmas Eve” feeling, that “crossing days off the calendar as your vacation beckons” thrill. Hey, I’m even talking about the mundane “There’s a great movie on tonight; it’ll be great to watch it” warmth that sees us all through a long week… I don’t get to have that anymore.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not so mellowed out on my meds that I don’t get giddy, that I don’t bounce on the balls of my feet like a three year old when my team wins or I get some incredible publishing news. I’m one of the more excitable people you’re likely to ever meet… there lies the sick irony.
Anticipation, the joy of knowing something really good is about to happen, filters through my brain as panic. Talk about crap.
All the same buttons are pushed in my head whether I’m clinging to a cart at Target trying not to pass out (see Thanksgiving Day blog) or am waiting for Santa to come rolling down that chimney.
Book a trip to Paris and what do I get? A bone deep dread, an immediate counting down of the hours that I have left before I have to go. We’re not talking butterflies, here. We’re talking monsters rabid and hungry in your belly and in your head… and it doesn’t go away. It stays with me until whatever it is that I was supposed to be so excited about passes in a haze of exhaustion and a general sense of “Thank God that’s over.”
It’s sad, really.
I miss sitting in front of the fireplace on Christmas Eve. I miss waiting on the “Santa’s” of life. But do you know what’s really messed up?... I still do it. I still wait by the fireplace on December 24th.
So if you’re looking for me on Christmas Eve, you’ll know where to find me. Sick, trembling, panicking, but still waiting on Santa.
Now for your sneak peek of this rainy Sunday morning…
Chapter Ten: Once Upon a Sweltering Detroit Night
“Joey kept staring out at the Alaskan night like maybe if he looked long and hard enough an answer would come riding in on the tail of a Northern Light. He shook his head and pulled his gaze away. Man, he was fucking losing it.” (page 144)
Until tomorrow (Release Day!)…
Chloe Stowe, the woman by the fireside
Chloe Stowe
The Words and Madness of Chloe Stowe
The daily blog of a published Romance author, Cozy Mystery rookie... and certified crazy woman.
Well into its 6th year, this blog chronicles the daily triumphs and struggles of a chronic panic / anxie ...more
Well into its 6th year, this blog chronicles the daily triumphs and struggles of a chronic panic / anxie ...more
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