A Hole Exists

I’m feeling rather blogless this morning. A big, cavernous hole sits where posting ideas normally fester. I’m sure if I took a spoon and scraped around a bit I could dig up something to slap down in front of you. Seeing as how you come for writing and ‘crazy like Chloe’ support, however, I’d really rather not waste your time… Of course, looking back at the length of this blogless effort perhaps my wordy rambling could be dubbed as a ‘crazy like Chloe’ symptom. Yes, that’s it. I feel better now.

*smirks*

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Point of Decision

My ‘organic’ telling of Blue Is Not the Sky will soon reach a point of decision.

I have (remarkably) stuck to my guns and not plotted out my newest project beyond its opening scenes. Slow and steady I’m taking Blue and loving the results. However, the opening scenes will soon be complete and a decision as to this story’s length will have to be made.

Will this story be a quickie (15k words) or will Blue linger on my pen for 50k?

*sighs*

Decisions are dastardly things.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Lip Management

Every writer has an Achilles heel, some subject they are frankly terrible at addressing. I curse fiercely my utter inability to describe lips.

Yes, lips.

Their color, their shape, the machinations they get up to, every single thing about portraying lips in words befuddles me. As a result, my character sketches are always a bit murky about the mouth. (No picnic for a romance writer, let me tell you.)

Bottom line: Identify your heel and cover it wisely.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Belabored Twitch

Yes, there was movement. A belabored twitch. A torturous fidget. A fluttering quake. Blue moved by a grand total of 60 words yesterday.

Whether this should be dubbed a discomfiting success or a demeaning failure, I’ll leave to brighter minds.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Road Kill

9 ½ hours in a car yesterday surely rattled something loose. At least that’s what the furry, four-legged muse and I are counting on.

I’m not sure which is worse: apathy or writer’s block?

I’m not sure which one has me the most stuck.

Both are true pains and I’m hoping I lost at least one of them on the I-65 corridor.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Asphalt Renaissance

I’m hoping a long day of driving will kick-start my writing engines… But if that startlingly uncreative analogy is any sign of how today will go, I’m holding out little hope for my asphalt renaissance.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Hairball

I hacked up a couple hundred words on Blue yesterday.

It was unpleasant, ugly and just a wee-bit frightful, but at least I got work done.

Hopefully, now that I’ve got the hairball cleared from the system, today’s output will be considerably less phlegmy... Yep, always aim high, my friends.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Foul Silence

Stagnation of process.

The point in the creative game where all your literary ducks are in a row but no bloody duck is bothering to quack.

That was my yesterday. A fowl silence.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Behind the Old Barn Door

Well, that didn’t work.

My grand plan to take Blue Is Not the Sky out for a nice workout on the writing track yesterday didn’t make it past the old barn door.  Blue refused to be saddled. He just stood there and looked all magnificent in his stall.

However, Leonard (my one-eyed, dirty-minded, ass-kicking scoundrel of a mule story) was more than happy to take this hard-up author for a spin.

Oh, and spin we did… while Blue waited stubbornly behind the barn door.

*sighs*

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

A Steady Pen

After two days of scuffling with my nuts (i.e. anxiety issue stupidity), I am ready to return to work on Blue Is Not the Sky.

While I have been pouring out the words since my return home on Sunday, none of that toil has been directed at my one project on a deadline. I struggle with my concentration when my mental peculiarities swell and didn’t want to touch Blue without a steady pen.

Bottom line: Nut-scuffle out of view of your paying work.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Jumping the Gun

I jump the gun.

Grotesquely.

Delinquently.

Illegally in some Southern states.

I get a couple of characters in my head, grind out a general plot, obsess over a setting and then jump the starter’s gun. While most writers are still in their starter’s blocks working on the all-important opening scene, I’m 50 yards down the track, unattractively winded and face-planting in the climax.

This must stop now.

Now.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Post-note: Uh, yeah. We’ll see how this goes. I already feel a face-plant coming.

In Search of the Story Spring

Very rarely a writer stumbles upon a freshwater spring. Tucked deep into the woods of Known, the tinkling song of Unknown is heard.

Approach these extraordinary waters on tiptoe, my friends. Such story-springs dry up at the first heavy hand.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Post-Note: Blue Is Not the Sky , my current novel-on-the-make, has been just such a surprise. I find myself shying away from its newness. 

Jade

Writing always rewards effort.

Family? Not so much.

*sighs tiredly*

I despise the color jade on me.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Nots

Writing keeps me on the good side of sane. Never has this been more evident than after a week of not writing.

The mountain cabin was lovely. The company was lovely. The view was lovely. My brain without pen, paper or computer at hand, however, was not lovely.

I’m a junkie in a bad, bad need for a fix.

Such a ridiculous human being, I am.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Groove Survival

The challenge begins.

Tomorrow I begin a week in the mountains. Writing time will be scarce if not entirely non-existent. The organic groove I’m in writing Blue Is Not the Sky is in jeopardy of evaporating into thin mountain air.

“This must not happen!” my writerly soul indignantly spits.

So, the challenge is Groove Survival.

Exactly, how does one pack for that?

Until next Saturday (March 18)…

Chloe

Post-note: Enjoy the time off from me, my friends. Have a fantastic week!

Prickly Down

Restraint and the Romance Writer is a strained coupling, at best.

Much like a duck and a porcupine they just don’t naturally “get it on.”

Bottom line: Prickly down is an uncomfortable thought. Don’t feel bad if you shy away from the pairing.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Engineer Beneath

Way down deep in my artist’s soul resides an engineer.

He’s a tiny, steampunk fellow who gushes over process and drools over creative how-to. He gorges himself on artist bios, composer sketches, and author memoirs.

I don’t have much communication with the little guy, but on travel days, like yesterday, he usually pops up for a spell. So, I fed him some Dvořák and a little Tchaikovsky and sent him on his way.

Bottom line: Feed the weirdness in your soul, and it will one day feed you.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

First Born

Do I dare say it’s working? Or will I jinx the entire thing?

Having meticulously constructed two starkly different characters… having researched my brain numb over an exotic, contemporary setting… and then having dropped said characters into said setting and simply let them be, 1,100 scandalously marvelous words have been born to my new novel, Blue Is Not the Sky.

So, is the organic thing working?

I grin and dare not say.

Until tomorrow or Thursday (possible travel day on Wednesday, depending on the weather)…

Chloe 

Organic Writing

I’m allowing my new writing project to grow organically. I have planted the seed but will not interfere in its maturation unless dire situations present themselves (i.e. nibbling deer, tunneling groundhogs or stagnating story.) We’ll see how this hands-off approach to growing a plot goes.

I have 11 weeks until the final manuscript is due.

I will give the organic agenda 3.

A fair shake, I believe.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Justified?

Before setting a story in a new spot, before plopping a plot into an unfamiliar place, a writer’s got to research, right?

I obsess over this. I study, take absurdly detailed notes, catalogue histories, memorize street grids, and a whole bunch of other etcetera’s despite knowing none of that will make it into the final manuscript.

Question: why do I do this?

Answer: Authors must feel comfortable in a place before their readers ever will.

Whether this is just spirited justification on my part or something actually useful, I’ll leave to you. I 

have subway schedules to memorize.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Aging Gremlin

Well, the delusions of literary grandeur have started up again.

A worrisomely fast return, I admit. My next writing project isn’t due until May 31, but I’ve already built it up in my head as publishing gold.

While I appreciate the aging Gremlin of Optimism that rattles around in my head, it gets harder and harder feeding the old coot.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

A Peculiar Expertise

While I enjoy a spot of peculiarity just like any gal, I do wish my peculiar life would grant me with something more than an expertise in panic.

At times, it seems, I know scarce more than Fear’s ins and outs.

*sighs dreamily*

Wouldn’t an expertise in shooting stars be nice?

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Sweet Release

I enjoyed a bit of dabbling yesterday.

Dipping a toe into this writing project, lazily swirling a finger into that work-in-progress. There was no rush. No deadline munching at my heels. It was utterly delightful, and I smiled all day long.

Ahh! The release from an 8-day writing binge is so sweet.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Battling Submitter's Regret

It can’t be ignored. Like the clacking of rat toenails on wet pavement or a ghost’s breath upon your neck, Submitter’s Regret is a dastardly thing that can drive you insane if you let it.

There are always things that you’d wished you’d done better. Or different. Or not done at all. Or not done as much.

Acknowledge these “should haves” only briefly, then dump all on the backburner and look quickly away.

There is nothing to be done about them now. Later, perhaps, they will teach. But at the moment they 

can only torture.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe