Chloe Stowe's Blog: The Words and Madness of Chloe Stowe, page 6

The Honey Prophecy

After a day of driving my mind is always buzzing with story ideas. Not with just two or three conceptual bees, oh no. We’re talking whole hive action. Workers and drones and queens and the bad boy bees that just exist to make girls squeal. Every bee is in on the act. It’s loud and confusing and so over-sensitizing that I begin to buzz along in some kind of kooky harmony. One day, I’ll be the chick buzzing in the straitjacket. Won’t that be fun? Until tomorrow… Chloe #concepts #straitjacket #bees #driving

Work In

You’ve got to build a character like life builds a person. It’s not so much a process of building up as it is of breaking down. Imagine a sculptor. Given a block of marble, the artist chips away the stone to reveal the subject within. Create your characters with a like method. Start broad and work in. See what will chip off when life is thrown at your imaginary folk. Until tomorrow… Chloe #character #sculptor

When the Answer Is Nothing

Footing has been recovered, more or less. (There’s always a bit of slip-and-slide in my mental state.) So, the question becomes “What have I learned from this little misadventure of sanity?” The answer, of course, is nothing. There is nothing to “learn” from these attacks. After a quarter of a century of them, I’ve picked through the panic and got all that can be got. But… I do know now that I can still survive such an episode. That is the lone positive, albeit one I’d rather not have learned. Enough introspection. Time to carry on. Until tomorrow… Chloe #panic #recovery #mentalillness

Coattails

After incidents like yesterday’s, I always want to imbue. Characters, story structures, plots, subplots, anything and everything literary I yearn to permeate with my ridiculous struggles. Why? Because I want to find a reason for it all. A purpose for the panic that rides my coattails. How crazy is that? Or is it simply sad? Until tomorrow… Chloe #panic #purpose #reason #imbue

Near

I had a near panic attack this morning. (Near, as in, close enough for memories to storm back from places I had buried them years ago.) It was bad. All my meds from the day before had run bone dry (7 hours of driving will do that to a certain brand of nut) and it was still two hours before I like to take them in the morning (yes, OCD is fun). So, when I got nervous, BAMM! Panic. I took my meds. Curled up in a fetal position for 30 minutes. And felt better, but… Bottom line: It was bad. Until tomorrow… Chloe #panicattack #anxiety #OCD

The Attic Light

Should authors keep their old stories in the attic or the basement? The basement is secure, tornado-proof and such. Safe for tall, tortured tales. But the attic in my mind has old, thick-paned windows, dusty from the misspent years. Moonlight can slip through, casting strange, fresh light on crooked, overworked plots. Yes, I think my old stories live there. I need to go up there soon. Soon, but not today. See, there’s a coward living at the bottom of my attic stairs. Until tomorrow… Chloe #storage #old #attic #coward

The Metered Blah

My re-publishing nerve needs bulking up or re-firing or something else equally drastic. It’s time to put another Chloe Stowe classic out for second consumption. Past time. But I’m having a hard time scrounging up the hunger for it. So, do I press through the blahs or let them just lie until they scatter like a fog in the face of the sun? Oh, good grief. It’s the poetic blahs. Run before the meter catches you. Until tomorrow… Chloe #Poetry #blah #selfpublish

The Lopsided Call

I fear lopsidedness is near. For the past two months, I’ve been working so incredibly hard at beefing up one aspect of my writing that I wonder if the other sides are suffering? Or are they enjoying the rest from years of carrying the load of my work? Who do you call for a welfare check on a crooked forte? Until tomorrow… Chloe #sportswriter #talent #welfarecheck

The Silo Breach

No Solicitations. Apparently, stray story ideas are ignoring the sign I’ve hung up outside my door. Plots, characters, settings, doppelgangers, foils, all have been knock-knock-knocking on my locked and shuttered door. I am busy. I am full. Currently, I’m housing all story ideas in my neighbor’s barn. Up next will be the breach of the silo. Things could get tetchy after that, so, please, spread the word: No Solicitations. Until tomorrow… Chloe #solicitations #plots #storyideas

Slippage

Positivity is hard to hold onto with sweaty hands. Stupidly hard. As if anxiety (i.e. sweaty hands, sweaty heart, sweaty throat) isn’t hard enough to manage with some degree of credibility, keeping a chipper attitude about it surely is. Just saying. See? Positivity just slipped through these fingers Until tomorrow… Chloe #anxiety #clumsy #positivity