A Fevered Hand

Hoarfrost has entered the literary bloodstream!

In other less flashy words, my first short story in several years has been officially submitted to an anthology. The 2 to 3 month wait begins. Fingers crossed, everyone.

I think I’ll keep up the short story shenanigans through December. See what kind of trouble I can get myself into with different genres.  You know, spread the crazy with a fevered hand.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Squeeze Play

A pink, portly hippo trying to nuzzle its way through an itty-bitty mouse hole.

That would be me, the wordy romance writer, trying to shove her 2k short story into an anthology of a different genre. 

Said-shoving must be completed today. Tomorrow is a travel day (so no blog) and Monday is the deadline. So, no options. This hippo’s got to move! Everybody, please watch your toes.

Until Monday…

Chloe

Clock Management

A Halloween Party for my nephew… 6pm.

A World Series game at Wrigley Field… 7pm.

Shattering of all illusions of sanity… right darn now.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Lessons of Dog

The muse does not like broccoli.

The furry, four-legged highness when attacked by a floret will squish it around in her mouth, spit it out, squish, spit, squish, spit… you get the picture. The slobbery, barely recognizable remains are then tossed in the trash. Food, time and dog saliva wasted.

The point?

I broccoli-ed a paragraph yesterday.

Enough said.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Tantamount

I have a cold.

In the state of looniness in which I exist, this is tantamount to being hogtied and tickled in front of a runaway circus train.

In short, this is bad.

In short, I expect clowns.

Somebody, please, smother me now.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Verily, We Go Along

Despite a day when I could not find nor hold my footing in normalcy for more than 3 minutes at a time, I did manage to get a nice chunk of second draft-ness done on my short story, “Hoar Frost.”

*sighs exhaustively*

My ability to work through very bad crazy is either very good or very sad.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Punishing Ways

Pardon the dirt under my nails. I’m still clawing my way out of the hole my moments of actual fun cast me into this weekend.

You know, it wouldn’t be so bad if it was just a little hole. Nope, I have to end up in an underground system of caves. Stalactites, stalagmites, bat dung, it’s all here, baby.

So, please hold your nose and bear with your blogger for a day or two more.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Passersby

Blame ghosts.

The entire fault for my unplanned absence from the blogging world yesterday shall be laid upon hauntings of an antebellum mansion.

Friday night, I gathered my brave bits and went on a 90 minute ghost tour of the Hermitage in Nashville! It was incredible fun… alas, the price for such fun is always nasty with my mind and body. Apologies.

Maybe someday I’ll learn the absurdities of my existence and warn passersby accordingly.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe 

Paper Dolls and Bonfires

Paper dolls avoid bonfires. This is just common sense. If they want to roast a marshmallow they head to the microwave not the open flame.

Mental illness makes paper dolls out of real people. Not always. Of course not. There are no absolutes in this game. But in my case, I’m a paper doll without a real leg to stand on in an argument. Hence, I avoid the bonfires of confrontation…

Last night in a fit of self-righteousness and uber-protectiveness, I stomped right up to the flames and stuck my marshmallow right into the fire.

Hence, I’m feeling stupid and badly singed this morning… but still somehow better.

Geez, I am so crazy it hurts.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Jerking

One word to describe my writing career as of late?

Jerky.

Start. Stop. Start. Stop. Start... Well, you get the picture. After a week that saw me setting a goal, reaching that goal and preening ridiculously over that met-goal, my sum-total of advancement yesterday was printing out the 4 page thing.

Talk about whiplash.

I’m going need a neck brace soon.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

A Gobsmacking

Well, the first draft of my short story “Hoar Frost” is done!

I actually beat my self-appointed deadline by several hours. Frankly, I’m a little stunned. It’s been so long since I’ve gotten anything to this point in the writing process that I’m feeling rather gobsmacked by it all.

*pauses, considers too seriously*

Never been gobsmacked before.

I’m thinking Mr. Gob can come smack me anytime he likes.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Intervention Needed

I’m kind of digging this short story groove. It jives with my OCD bag. Picking and choosing each word is such a trip. I’m thinking of emblazing “Make Short Story, Not Novel” on my navel…

*blushes a deep red*

Yes, well…Travel day tomorrow. I believe I need it.

Until Wednesday…

Chloe

Flashing

Consider this a middle of the month grab bag. Stick your hand inside and take whatever the heck feels good to you. The rest will be recycled responsibly.

1.) Started the Nit and Grit blog. Rather ugly little thing but hopefully helpful to somebody. I think of it as flashing my mental health privates to the world. A cheap, dirty thrill to some; an eye-opener to others.

2.) Two-thirds done with “Hoar Frost.” Good chance I’ll get the first draft done by the Monday night deadline I’ve declared… Of course, I’ve probably just cursed the whole flow-thing right there. Speaking of curses…

3.) Cubs win! Cubs win! Yeah, it’s only the first game of the NLCS but when you’re battling 70-odd year old goat curses, you revel in every single win…. Not a bad way to live life, actually.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Nit & the Grit

After a crappy day of mental health yesterday, I am considering penning a nitty-gritty, down and dirty journal of my daily struggles with panic, anxiety, and OCD.

No ties to writing, no fluff, no painted on silver linings. Just a factual tell-all of what it’s like to live with mental illness. Too many people just don’t get it. And the people who do, might like a little company down in the trenches.

It’s just a thought.

I know I sometimes get lonely down here.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Post-note: Despite my brain-drama, I did reach the halfway point with my short story, “Hoar Frost.” Go, me!

A Strange Case of Headiness

Feeling rather full of myself at the moment. Got over 1/3 of my short story “Hoar Frost” done last night. Surprisingly, not disgusted with it as of yet, so, yeah, feeling good…

Not quite sure what to do with this feeling.

It’s been a while.

A long while…

And there it goes.

Ok, I feel more at home now.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Bauble of Positive

In a world of negatives, sometimes it is crucial to dig up a personal positive. Here is mine…

I can blog.

While my chemically-challenged brain may not allow me to hold any kind of traditional job, I have managed to find a loophole in the panic/anxiety disorder: I can blog. Daily. For years at a time.

True, all this blogging may not pay a precious cent, but it has paid me in a much-needed rhinestone of self-esteem.

In a world of negatives, I concentrate on my pretty bauble of positive.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Sink & the Short Story

My advice to authors of short stories?

The kitchen sink is out of play.

Throwing every word you’ve ever known, including the proverbial kitchen sink, at your project just won’t cut it, my friends. You’ve got to pick and choose from your arsenal of verbal weapons.

Don’t be grabby. Be smart.

You’ve only got so many attempts to knock a target down with a short story. Choose what you throw at it wisely… and leave the poor sink alone.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe 

Frosting the Hoar

One week.

1500 words.

Hoar frost.

I’m giving myself exactly seven days to write a short story tentatively titled “Hoar Frost.” This should be completely doable… hence, it will turn out to be anything but.

I’ll keep you updated.

(And, yes, that is a threat.)

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Bottom Line

Did the first 20 minutes of the debate last night.

Physically got sick.

No matter who butters your toast, there’s puke in the sink this morning.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Fail Motto

Well, this certainly won’t help.

With two novels already on the stalled literary assembly line, I’ve just crammed three new writing projects onto the old conveyor belt. Two short stories and a “thing” I have yet to define.

My motto: if you’re going to fail, fail spectacularly.

Until Monday…

Chloe

Post-note: Travel day tomorrow so no blog. Keep a firm upper lip, people. *winks*

The Prudence Game

Unfortunately, writing is not car racing.

After an unplanned month off the race track and parked in the parents’ garage, the authorial vehicle can not just be revved up to a full and thunderous start, roaring out of the old homestead’s driveway chasing the finish line at an all-out, reckless speed.

For me, writing is more like running. A full head of steam on the pavement after a month’s absence from the sport promises nothing but shin splints, groin pulls and ACL nasties.

“Slow but sure” may not win the race, but it will finish the race.

Sometimes, that has to be enough.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Wrung Out

Played the dishtowel yesterday.

After strangling ever milligram of my meds out of me, life tossed my soiled and limp remains into the corner and left me to rot on a pile of forgotten dirty socks.

In fact, I am currently languishing there now.

Hold your nose and run, my friends.

Run.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Uphill Patience

At the jaunty pace of a three-legged tortoise moseying uphill, my life is slowly returning to normal around here.

My writing career, alas, lags even further behind this poor battle-tested turtle.

However, as one who once owned and loved a three-legged angel/firebrand of a dog, I don’t mind waiting on any such gutsy soul to arrive at my side.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Good Grief

Here lies the final report on my A/C saga. Let us quickly mourn its passing and move on…

On the one hand, after one month without, I finally have cool air again!

On the other hand, after twenty years of servicing my tee-tiny household with only sputtering success, my A/C unit has received a terminal diagnosis. The old gal has maybe a year to complete her bucket list before she turns to scrap.

Bottom line: My A/C has entered hospice care with me and mine flitting the bill. How nifty is that?

Here ends the final report on my A/C saga. Let us speak of this no more.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe  

Irony Summoned

Just a quick note as the A/C magicians spin their magic over my sickly unit… I have just found a jury summons in my mailbox.  This is the 3^rd time I’ve been summoned. This will be the 3^rd time I’ll be sending a note to the judge from my shrink. This will hopefully be the 3^rd time I’ve been dismissed as patently loony.

Good news… My streak of invisibility is now over.

Bad news… My streak of invisibility is now over.

The irony just reeks.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The War Whisperer

“Make love, not war,” they say.

I laugh at such foolish innocence.

When the foe is an a/c repair company and the battleground is your home…

When the fight has dragged on for a month…

When said-home is quickly becoming said-swamp… it is time for even the staunchest of cowards to take up arms and fight for hearth and Freon!

*quickly deflates*

In other words, travel day tomorrow. Another painful, useless, infuriating a/c tech visit Monday. Give me strength.

Until Monday…

Chloe