Divergence

I am angry.

What, may I ask, is the point of NOAA weather radios if at the first hiccup of thunder they lose power and go off the air all freaking night?  A night, I may add, of supercell tornadoes which ended up killing at least 3 people in the area?

Not only that, the tornado sirens were also kicked off line and completely silent during a truly dangerous night of weather.

Furthermore, the local television folks did not bother to mention this outage during their long hours of non-stop coverage of the event. People went to bed relying on NOAA to wake them in time to find shelter to save their lives. These people, my parents included, could have died because of this unreported “glitch in the system.”

Yes, I am angry.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Post-note: Regular blogging subject matter will return tomorrow when the steam has cleared from my head. Apologies for the divergence. 

No Holds Barred

After cleaning out the gutters at my parents’ house and then surviving the majority of the day without the four-legged, furry muse who was off to the groomer’s, I got zero writing done until after dinner.

That would have been all fine and good if I hadn’t had to drag, yank, cajole, and breathlessly heave every freaking word out of my head and onto the silly paper.

Seriously, can’t a single part of my brain behave?

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

To Gather Speed

Leap forwards often require steps back to gather speed.

I’m in the midst of a backwards sashay right now with my writing career. I accept this. I will even embrace it…

After all, practice makes perfect and my OCD goes all googly-eyed and pant-y over that.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Rabidity

So, I scurried back into my writing yesterday and went a little rabid in my short story. Snarling and snapping, spitting and growling, words were flying everywhere. Despite upping the word count appropriately, I think I did more damage than good.

Oh well, such is my existence. I’m either absent or a terror.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe 

Strategical Retreat

Having grown tired of babying my mind through holiday affairs, I am retreating back into words today.

This is not surrender. This is strategy.

Naysayers, go gnaw on a turkey bone. I’ve got a story to write.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Victory Declared

After limping through Thanksgiving with my usual lack of grace and social skill, I have emerged on the other side ragged but whole. I will take that as a win and celebrate appropriately… i.e. throwing myself into the lions’ den of Black Friday shopping.

Why, oh why, do I do this to myself year after year?

Masochism must reside in my marrow… I do hope the lions find it tasty.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Surviving the Day

My myriad of cracks shine particularly bright on Thanksgiving.

Each fissure is impossible to hide with family swarming about, so the whole day becomes a series of strategical maneuvers intended to ensure survival while alienating the least amount of relatives.

I’m quite sure this is NOT what the pilgrims had in mind.

Here’s to survival, everyone, and seeing you on the other side of the turkey.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Challenge Accepted

Sanity will be challenged this week.

Having a lead on a new literary agent, I will be spending any spare time I can squeeze out of the Thanksgiving monster on tweaking The Hushing Days manuscript. I want it nice and shiny for Monday’s trip to new eyes.

I also have a short story due December 1 that is begging to be written. We’ll see if I can swat that down or fold under its relentless whispers.

As surviving Thanksgiving is always iffy for me, this could indeed get ugly.

Take cover.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Fleck & Fowl

A tee-tiny fleck of a story is on its merry way to an anthology! I’ve never written flash fiction before but I figured why not give it a whirl? It’s a tragicomedy of just over 500 words that if accepted would get my name out into the big pool of general fiction. So, please, cross a finger or toe for “The Go-away Bird.”

Remember: Pepper the world with your words until someone takes notice and smiles.

Until Wednesday…

Chloe

Post-note: Travel day tomorrow. I’ll see you on Wednesday!

Beauty in the Bizarre

Something resembling an actual story crawled out of my mind yesterday.

I nearly fainted.

Before it scurried away into the shadows of my funk, I scooped it up, laid it down on paper and rubbed its soft, little belly for hours.

Oh, what a beautifully bizarre thing the creative process is!

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Flailing Muse

An absurd amount of flailing went on yesterday.  Little of it was pretty. None of it was productive.

Being agentless for the first time in several years has left my cracked, little writer’s soul scrambling for purchase anywhere. You should see the few words I did manage to string together… No, on second thought, never mind. Nobody need suffer that.

Today must be a better day.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Fearing the Wind

The divorce is final.

I am now a free agent, so to speak. Although, a free writer would more accurate, I suppose.

My literary agent and I have officially called things off.  I initiated the process that has been going on for weeks now, so I should feel energized, liberated or some other fool thing. I don’t. Naked and blowing in the wind is more like it.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe 

Determination

Well, at least rejections are coming swifter these days.

Another one yesterday, but I countered boldly with two more submissions. I’ll get it done yet.

Five more days before my workdays vanish. Familial blessings and obligations will then take center stage for 2 to 3 weeks. Let’s see how many publishing heads this ol’ scribbler can turn before then.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Shot in the Dark

One shot in the dark launched.

Yesterday, I sent off a proposal for a writing project I have a snowball’s chance in Hades of getting. It’s probably already lying in a steaming puddle of its own false hope somewhere…

Well, hasn’t this gotten dark?

Enough of that. Lights on! I’ve got another snowball to ready for a trip south.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Look Twice

There is a woman inside of me who exists separate from the panic-stricken child.

There is a person inside of me who is apart from the pandering author, the dutiful family member, the awkward shadow trailing behind the world.

She is beautifully independent and oh-so joyous of heart. She is a wide-eyed wanderer with a daredevil’s soul. She is the brightest part of me.

I am trying very hard to embrace this woman-child, hold her tight to my chest… for she needs not be trampled by the rest.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Once Again Folly

So, I have once again thrown all my attention into something that will inevitably be revealed as folly.

I have given myself one week to finish this little escapade into foolishness, promising myself to have it sent off to its publisher before Thanksgiving barrels into town.

The chance of this getting accepted teeters between absurdity and big, fat joke. But I persist, as always. The tailless dog chasing its stump.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Rhizome Self

I may, in fact, be a rhizome.

Consider this Oxford Dictionary definition… “a continuously growing horizontal underground stem that puts out lateral shoots and adventitious roots at intervals.”

When God digs me up and take me home, people will be amazed at the hundreds of still born roots sticking out of this odd and quirky, little writing bulb.

I do so try to find a place to blossom in this profession.

A rhizome? So be it.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Out the Blowhole

I tend to lose myself in others. My empathy devours me. Swallows me whole, digesting me with every person’s unkind thought and every stranger’s cold dismissal. Whenever I manage to claw myself out of its belly, I find a bit of me is missing.

This has got to stop. I am not Jonah. My heart is not a whale.  As silly as it sounds, this is my current battle… and I am exhausted from it.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

She Huddles

Amidst my tiny maelstrom of literary agent chaos, I am sharpening up the finished manuscript The Hushing Days a bit. Seeing as it might be headed to fresh eyes soon, I’ve picked apart the Prologue (which I was never completely happy with) and am rearranging its remains.

A prologue should sing, mine merely hummed.

Waste of time? Oh, who bloody knows.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Courage Begets Circles

Holding patterns suck.

I’m in one now, professionally speaking. Around, around I go, waiting on some disembodied voice to tell me when and where I can land.

My thumbs are all twiddled out, people. I’m starting to doodle on plane windows and calling it art. This is far from encouraging. *sighs heftily*

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Emergency Tactics

You know those massive metal doors that slam down from the ceiling in the bowels of nuclear plants when a WTF? happens upstairs in the reactor? Well, after last night’s WTF? at the polls my emergency doors are down, locked in place, air supply ticking down.

Time to crush faith and dog to chest, close eyes and just keep breathing.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

When the Firefly Hiccups

A hiccupping firefly.

A creature whose internal light only spastically twinkles in the world. Where others shine brightly, constantly, warmly, I stutter radiance.

Yet, I too have a place in this world. People often forget that. So occasionally I must sit upon the end of their noses and hiccup brilliance in their eyes until they either swat me away or smile.

Yesterday, I hiccuped on a lot of noses. Just saying.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Attitude

After a weekend of licking my literary wounds, I’m going to drag myself back out into the bloody fray today.

What I will work on in this dog eat dog publishing scrum, I have no idea. I’ll trust the muse to dump me in the appropriate warring pit.

*pauses, re-reads, winces*

Perhaps a little tweak to the old attitude might be in order, too.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

A Bitter Sting

Well, “Hoarfrost” has been rejected. At least it was quick…. Alas, no matter the swiftness of demise, the bitter sting of death remains.

Tomorrow is a travel day so no blog. Have a great Saturday, folks.

Until Monday…

Chloe

Skirmish

A two-pronged attack on the Short Story world has commenced.

From the south, I have launched a general fiction effort of 2,500 words due December 1. It is entitled “Gone Dead.”

From the north comes my premier Science Fiction endeavor, a less than 7,500 word monster with no name. It’s due date is December 31.

Now, if real life will just behave itself on the eastern and western fronts, we should have ourselves a jolly old battle.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

A Darn, Marvelous Thing

Hope is the ant you squash a hundred times in your kitchen only to find it the next morning sitting on your toast. There’s just no getting rid of the darn, marvelous thing.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe and my World Champion Cubbies

Sweet Agony

Two items of extraordinary note for today…

1.) I will vote. After a nearly 20 year absence from the polls, I have finally uncovered enough backbone to return to the ballot box. (This year’s presidential election has given me little choice.)  Hopefully, my pockmarked spine will see me through Florida’s early voting process.

2.) The Chicago Cubs. Game 7. World Series. Enough said. (If I survive the voting, I will likely disintegrate into a Cubby-blue pluff of ecstasy before first pitch. Ah! The sweet agony of life.)

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Awkward Kid

A second-grader unleashed on a brand new playground… That’s how I’m trying my level best to approach my two months in Short Story Land.

Do I head to the monkey bars of Science Fiction or the swings of Mystery? Or should I just close my eyes and jump on the merry-go-round of Fantasy? I’m well acquainted with the slides of Horror, but no reason not to revisit a favorite. Of course, the sandbox of General Fiction is incredibly daunting but oh-so tempting…

See, I’m trying.

Kudos to the awkward kid trying to look cool in a new school, right?

Until tomorrow…

Chloe