Chloe Stowe's Blog: The Words and Madness of Chloe Stowe, page 4

The Burned Shadow

Mine is not a lava lamp panic. It doesn’t merely grumble and agitate and occasionally bloop out a ball of molten yuck. Oh, no. Mine angrily churns, roaring in anger, spitting out white-hot bullets of insanity and terror. It sets the world on fire, maliciously devouring every speck of calm in my entire world. And I skate above the cauldron of panic on a tissue-thin plate of ice borne only of medication. It’s scary how close I am to burning. Some mornings (like today) I can almost smell my shadow burning. Until tomorrow… Chloe #anxiety #panic #mentalillness #lava

Blessed

Good news first: I am safe. The four-legged furry muse is safe. And my house in Tallahassee is still standing. (Take that, Hurricane Michael!) Bad news: No power expected for two weeks. Half-a-dozen roof shingles have gone MIA. And Halloween celebrations are toast. Best news: I have a home to go back to soon. I have a home to go back to soon. I have a home to go back to soon. Bottom line: I am one blessed nut. Until tomorrow… Chloe #blessed #hurricane #safe #muse #home

Disappearing

How does one get lost in a crowd of six? I don’t know, but I do it darn well. And it’s time to do it again. Five-day trip to the mountains with the family starts tomorrow. No daily blog until next Friday. The Crazy Fleas are already starting to itch. Oh well. Off to prep for disappearing into the wallpaper. Until Friday… Chloe #disappearing #mentalhealth #family

The Albatross Weight

How much does guilt weigh? I may, may, be on the path toward finding out. For decades, the guilt for screwing up all my college experiences (yes, plural… I’ve screwed up a lot) has hung around my neck like a concrete albatross. But now I’m working on finally laying the blame on my illness. On the panic. On the bone-chilling anxiety. It’s a piecemeal process that’s only just beginning, but it’s already lightened the burden considerably. Why now? Ask the stupid albatross. I just survive here. Until tomorrow… Chloe #guilt #anxiety #panic

The Canoodling Print

In my opinion, every novelist could benefit from a dip of their pen into journalism. Why? A journalist doesn’t have the pleasure of leaning on a thesaurus to tell a riveting story. The success of the piece rests on structure and brevity, not canoodling with a dictionary. Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for a good canoodle. But sometimes a story or a thought calls for a more direct approach. Journalism preaches that directness. A novelist would do good to listen. Until tomorrow… Chloe #journalism #brevity #structure #learning

The Playground Conclusion

After another seven-hour drive through Alabama yesterday, I have come to the following uncomfortable conclusion. If I was still a child and life was a playground, I’d be the little kid in bulletproof vest, fire-retardant jeans and motorcycle helmet. Swinging upside down from the monkey bars, I’d have escape routes scribbled on my palms and teddy bears in parachutes perched on the slides ready to evac me out the first sign of trouble. Seriously. Blessing of the day: Crazy didn’t hit until 18. Until tomorrow… Chloe #anxiety #panic #playground #blessing

Push

Yesterday, I wrapped up a two-month job. Yes, job. True, it didn’t pay money. And, true, it was basically only an hour’s work a day, but… It was every day. It was on a schedule not of my own making. If I didn’t do it, it wouldn’t get done. And I did it. I did it darn well, too. How huge this is to me can not be overstated, nor understood. Bottom line: Push at your crazy, then stand your ground. Dare it to shove you back. Until tomorrow… Chloe #anxiety #panic #job

A Reckless Drive

Drive. Is it possible to have too much of it? Or am I just being reckless with what I got? Whatever the answers, I know I’m pushing myself too hard. I desperately want to be independent, to be able to stand on the back of my own work. So, I throw 150 percent of myself, my time, my effort, my everything into chasing down that ghost of a chance… And I drive too fast. I just hope I run out of gas before I crash. Until tomorrow… OCD & Chloe #OCD #drive #independent

The Voice in the Wood

I’ve had to tie my Cozy narrator to a tree. In the backyard. Like, way in the backyard. Having never written a Cozy Mystery before, I had allowed my narrating voice to get too familiar with my sleuth. I’d lost the sharp lines my lady linguist deserved to wear her first time in front of an audience. So, my narrator now speaks from the base of a sour gum tree. Perfectly reasonable, right? Until tomorrow… Chloe #narrator #voice #distance #familiarity

The Brutal Peek

Sometimes story ideas arrive to me wrapped up in pretty, little boxes. They appear out of nowhere on my lap. Innocent and tiny, I can’t help but pull the bow, lean down to peek inside and… Get smashed in the nose when a heaving, needy whale of a tale leaps out. (You know, one of those stories that would take decades of research to even outline properly?) Well, that happened last night. And I’m one ugly mudder this morning. Bottom line: Writing is brutal. Until tomorrow… Chloe #idea #mudder