The Weak Wick

The chance of me getting any of my works-in-progress to Carina Press by September 4 is dwindling like a flame in a hurricane.

Maybe if my mental wick had a bit more girth and balance the whole endeavor would be able to weather the whole restoration-of-my-parents’-house storm?

Oh, well. I will carry on with my weak though stubborn flame and see how far I can get.

Until the Sunday update…

Chloe

The Napkin Scribblers

I envy those writers who can spin a beautifully flowing tale in just stolen moments. Fifteen minutes here, an hour there, a spattering of lines on a paper napkin and voilà! A publishable story appears like magic.

I am not that kind of writer.

If the last few weeks of reconstruction mayhem have taught me nothing else, it is that. I’ve got to have at least two hour stretches of uninterrupted authoring for my work to be worth a darn thing.

These self-realizations sting, and I don’t appreciate them. Just saying.

Until the Friday update…

Chloe

The Almost-Done's

Here, I am again. As promised, my every other day update as I wade through reconstruction at my parents’ house has arrived. Enjoy!

Carina Press is accepting submissions for in-progress works until September 4!  So, I’m cleaning up an armload of my almost-done’s to send their way.

First up, my m/m romance, the former Clockwise Heart.  I’ve picked out the 3 chapters I’d like to send and now just have to flesh the beauties out. To freshen things up, I’ve renamed the novel The Clock Keeper’s Vow. It makes no difference, of course, but gives me a needed “Zing!” to get things rolling. Writers are so weird.

Anyhow, now, I’ve just got to find the time to write between plumbers, painters, insulation-installers and carpenters.

Yeah, no problem.

Until the Wednesday update…

Chloe

The Absence of Flies

There was no fly in my water this morning.

In the absurdity which is my world of late, the absence of a corpse on my nightstand is a moment to celebrate.

Issues of house-unrest (water damage, new leaks, bad washers, bad sinks, worse plumbers) have consumed my time the last few days. Blogging has simply been impossible. I am truly sorry for this unannounced absence.

The next week looks equally bleak as far as posting goes, but I will try to get something out once every two days at least.

Until then, may no flies turn belly-up in your water, my friends.

Chloe

The Household Gods

Household disasters ruled yesterday. Plumbing leaks, water damage, industrial-sized blowers, and an air-conditioner giving up the ghost were the players in my story yesterday.

Apologies for holding them close to the vest and not sharing them with you.

I tend to hoard my ill-fortune.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe (who hopes desperately to scratch at least a word or two on paper today… if the household 

gods allow it)

The Feral Storyteller

I propose that the heft of a new journal is directly proportionate with an author’s budding desire to fill it. The weight, the feel of its bound pages in a writer’s hands feeds a the need to own each line of the fresh tome.

It is most likely something feral in us storytellers, indescribably and incalculable to those not of the breed.

Just saying.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Filling Bloom

When expanding a short story into a novel, the easiest thing to do (for me, at least) is to bloom out the supporting characters.

The minor players should offer more than contrasting bursts of color; in a novel their presence should tickle all the senses. Give them body, a flow, a scent, a cadence of thought as rich as the leads. They will add so much more to your book, once you add so much more to them.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Pompous Pluck

So, I’ve decided to pluck out all the “clunky” details-of-place littering up Blue and condense them all down to an introductory few paragraphs after the Prologue.

As I’ve noted before, I am OCD-ing about getting this intro just right. However, I’m also feeling a little iffy about the overall idea of an intro.

It feels almost, well, pompous.

My weirdness gets really tiring, you know?

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Y of It

I’d like a playbook, please. You know, the x’s and o’s of how to navigate the publishing world successfully while maintaining your hard-fought-for sense of self?

Oh, I know it can be done. I see people do it all the time. Just not me.

Perhaps, the problem is that I’m neither an “x” nor an “o”?

Maybe, I’m simply a “y.”

Yep, that somehow seems appropriate.

Until tomorrow…

Y 

The Tale Knitter

I knit tales indiscriminately.

I am constantly picking up strings of ideas from ridiculous things and crocheting them together into something wearable, literarily speaking that is.

That’s all well and good when I have time to sort the doable from the stupid. This last week, I have not had that time. Hence the pile of story scraps grows and will likely overcome me by 2:00 this afternoon.

Bottom line: Sort your knitting daily.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

A Fuss

In my re-imagining of “Blue,” the Prologue’s transformation went slick as a whistle. Grins all around.

Unfortunately, my OCD has kicked up a fuss over the introductory paragraphs in Chapter One. A big, curse-ridden fuss.

So, please, pardon the new bald spots in my ‘do, as I yank out my hair one darn introductory sentence at a time.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Flies in the Window

Even when your house is particularly sparkly and clean, you’re liable to find dead flies in your window.

Well, yesterday, I found a whole murder-field on my sill. I had to deal. Hence, I didn’t get to blog.

Apologies. I’ll try not to let the insect corpses pile up so in the future.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Good after Bad

I’ve decided to tweak the rejected “Blue.” I would hate to see all that work go to waste, so I’m scraping off what was deemed unsuccessful and bulking up what was declared good. If done properly, it should take about 6 weeks to give it new life.

So, the question is… Am I throwing good money after bad?

I don’t know.

I guess we’ll see come September. Now, back to the scraping.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

State of Fishiness

Every writer is allowed a little flounder time, right?

In between projects, waiting for responses, no contracts bearing down, an author can sometimes flip and flop around aimlessly for what to do next.

It’s reasonable. No guilt needed here. Temporary fishiness, that’s all it is….

Nevertheless, folks, it sure does stink.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Conjuring

It’s very hard to switch from the dog world back to the writing world. Conjuring love out of thin air takes a lot more concentration than having real kisses delivered straight from a loving, furry mouth.  

Even though I’m going to force myself to get back to work today, time for gratuitous belly-rubs will always be made.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe  

Flimsy Is My Cage

I didn’t get to write yesterday.

My flimsily-caged beast of a mind was not amused.

Spitting and snarling in the form of truly hellish nightmares ensued.

Bottom line: Payback is a bitch.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Keep Right

I’m a slow writer. After seven years of trying every trick in the book (pun not intended but tickling me just the same), there is simply no speeding up my writing speed.

I am not a six novels in a year kind of gal. I’m a three.

So, from now on, I’m hanging out in the “Slower traffic keep right” lane with no turn blinker on.

Please, wave at me as you tootle on by.

Until Tuesday (travel day tomorrow)…

Chloe

Brilliant to One

Miracles don’t have to be flashy to be stunning. They can be tiny, discrete, personal.

They can also be a bit quirky, odd, laughable to most… but blindingly brilliant to one.

One of these peculiar and particular miracles found me yesterday.

So, please, pardon my glow.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Extrication

I face extrication today.

A pipedream of something ridiculously good I could do has completely ensnared me this last week.

Every other minute, both awake and asleep, has been entangled in this prospect, trapped in working out absurd details. This must stop.

So, today, I begin the extrication of my OCD-riddled mind from the trap I’ve laid for myself. A slow, maddening process all its own… Hmm, I wonder if could just gnaw off a temporal lobe and scamper free?

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

In Parenthesis

I survived yesterday with no new scars. (Insert applause here.)

I fiddled yesterday with actual words on paper, not just concepts and high-flying plots. (Insert cartoonish gasps here.)

I smiled yesterday… and continue to smile today. (No insertions needed.)

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Belching Heartbeats

I’m dealing with two appointments today. Specific time, face-to-face, chatting mandatory, have-to-do-it meetings.

My vile creatures of Anxiety and Panic are most happy about this. As I sit here and blog, they are feeding gluttonously on me, burping their appreciation on every third heartbeat.

I get so mad at myself on these days. I feel ugly and childish and stupid... a belching brain will do that to you.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Brute Instinct

When a writing idea comes to me, I can’t just jot it down and push it aside for later consideration. Oh, no. Once I’ve caught its scent, I’ve got to hunt the poor beast down and tackle its struggling carcass to the ground.

Only after vacuuming my authorial nose up and down its innocent, little body and vowing to devour it later will I let the terrified critter go.  

Either my OCD is at play here or I’m a closet brute. Neither, I fear, are appealing options.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Boulders

So, for the first time in 2017, I had a day with zero deadlines looming.

While most sane people would drift along lazily on the stress-less waters, soaking up the serenity, basking in the sweet calm, I spent yesterday wrestling new boulders into the stream.

I realize I’m a nut, but must I be a muscle-bound, obstructionist nut?

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

After

It is done.

The Oklahoma manuscript is once again off to its publisher.

I am also done.

My mind is a spent noodle stuck in a colander hole.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe, the wet vermicelli

Time's Up

Deadline day.

All that’s left to do on “Oklahoma” is the fleshing out of the final scene. The dialogue and plot are all there; I just need to put some flesh to the bones.

A couple hours of writing, followed by another hour of formatting and it will be time to hit the SEND button.

I will then collapse in an ungainly heap and chatter nonsensically for a few hours.

It will be ugly. I would leave now if I were you.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Far-Fetching Fault

I lack a boomerang.

My mind will toss out an idea --a wild, far-fetching notion—and will follow it wherever it leads. Into the weeds, down the rabbit hole, off a cliff, diving headfirst into quicksand, wherever the fuzzy-edged thought bounces.

No boomerang. No return trip. Collapsing wherever the chase ends.

Yesterday was lost to just such a wandering thought.

Today must be better.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

State of Awry

Deadline for “Oklahoma” is Saturday. The whole thing is ready to head to the publisher… except for the final two scenes. Since an ending is always preferred, I have a busy day ahead.

I’d like to get the first draft of the final scenes done today, leaving the editing of the newbies until tomorrow.

However, like mice and men will attest, these best laid schemes often go awry. And since I exist in a constant state of “awry,” we can all speculate how this will end.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Sours

The requested lengthening of my “Oklahoma” manuscript is due in 4 days. Not a problem logistically speaking. The word count is already there, and I’ve only got 2 more scenes to write. However, I am battling the Sours.

Rejections always make you doubt your skill, sours the confidence in yourself and your work, sours your outlook and the wee shine in your eyes.

With a deadline only a few days away, this is a poor time for the Sours.  But you know me. I continue on as gracelessly as always.

Bottom line: The Sours do pass.

Until Thursday (travel day tomorrow)…

Chloe 

The Hypocrite Mule

Failure breeds thoughts of hypocrisy.

How can I continue to spew forth supposed writing wisdom when the publishing world rejects me?

Shouldn’t I apologize for wasting everyone’s time and burrow my head down in a pile of donkey dung? 

Perhaps. At least that’s what common wisdom would dictate… however, since I’m apparently crap at the whole wisdom-thing, I think I’ll continue dumbly on. I hope you will continue to join me as I stumble along.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Post-note: My short story “Blue” was rejected Saturday. I’m heartbroken but will mulishly carry on. 

The Fishiness Clause

I enjoy a red herring as much as any author. In fact, I serve them up regularly in my stories.

However, these literary tricks are delicacies and must be employed wisely. Too liberal a use may result in fishiness. Too conservative, the planted clue might be lost altogether.

My suggestion? Never serve the same dish twice to your readers.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Entrapment

I never shield my characters from inner turmoil. I know their weak spots and play on them eagerly. 

However, I rarely detail these down and dirty mental struggles on the page. Instead, I let their actions, or their inactions, speak for themselves. In short, I make the readers work to understand the characters’ motivations.

Why?

Engagement. By engaging the audience in this puzzle-solving, I lure the readers farther into the story… hopefully, never to escape.

Bottom line: Practice entrapment. Practice it furiously.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Plot Geography

Is there such a thing as a rolling climax? Not a singular peak of plot, but a swarm of storyline heights that cumulatively become the watershed moment?

Well, there better be.

My Oklahoma manuscript lays claim to such a clutter, and it’s much too late in the process for large scale geographical tampering.

Just saying.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Suffering the Spoils

Despite my best intentions, I always find myself in a mad dash across the finish line. Chapters gathered haphazardly under my arms, frayed storyline trailing behind my panicked feet, my story and I are ungainly messes as we arrive breathlessly at the publisher’s door…

Until Oklahoma.

I am enjoying a bit of meticulousness with this one. This luxury could very well spoil me, and I never suffer spoiling silently.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe 

Pumping Irony

On the plus side, whenever my brain teeters on particularly crooked ground, my creative juices really get pumping.

So, while surviving yesterday I actually got some good work done.

This irony is not lost on me… I just hope that one day I won’t be lost to it.

Happy Fourth of July, everyone!

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Self

The brain is sweaty and twitchy as I wait for the workmen to arrive.

The headache has already settled and has begun to chomp on my left brow.

I’m freezing (ironic as it’s a new a/c I poorly await).

My body plots and schemes what other pains and inequities to spitefully throw my way today.

I don’t like myself… and my self, apparently, doesn’t like me.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe 

Hide & Do Not Seek

Tomorrow will be a test.

For a scheduled 7 hours, workmen will be climbing in and out of the spine of my house as they install a new a/c. Due to the layout of my hermit’s abode, there will be very few places for me to burrow my panicky self into and hide.

Thankfully my mother will be here on the front lines allowing her eldest to assume the fetal position and disappear within her presence.

I sicken myself, and the world, no doubt, tires of me… but I continue to carry on.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

To Painfully Strain

One half of my “Oklahoma” manuscript is ready to go.

Having been waxed and buffed and detailed down to its nines, the first 16k is now just waiting for the second half to catch up. I hope it won’t get too lonely cooling its heels as the back end will take a bit of pounding out before its ready to hit the publishing road…

Painfully strained car analogy now over, hopefully never, ever to return.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Baubles in the Drawer

Accentuate the positive, they say.

I’m all for accessorizing with the good in the world, but sometimes it is very hard to find the pretty bauble in the drawer of daily crap.

Just saying.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Beseeching Muse

The muse is preaching (begging, pleading, imploring) patience.

Yes, the four-legged, furry highness who sits on my hip as I toil away over “Oklahoma” is beseeching me not to sprint blindly to the now-in-sight finish.

“Take your time, human one,” she persists. “Sweat the details. Immerse us both in the pursuit of sweet perfection. The hours are finally ours; the deadline waits two weeks out. Let us luxuriate in the process of tale-telling.”

I, the human one, am trying… but a collar and leash may prove necessary.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

In the Pink

Well, I’ve finally straightened out the last kink in my “Oklahoma” plot!

The storyline no longer shudders and quakes under its surprising twist, but hums warmly at the story’s unexpected turn.

Color me tinkled pink at this development... a soft, blush shade, please. I look absurd in hot pink.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Feeling da Vinci

Artists often make preparatory sketches for their projects. Trial runs of what will go where, what angles work best, what is most pleasing to the eye yet still true to the subject.

While I often fiddle with differing outlines and schematics of plots, I’ve never had the chance to write out full-fledged trial runs of my options before… until “Oklahoma.”

I, my friends, am now a preparatory sketcher!

Time has allowed me this most likely never-to-be-revisited luxury. Three different versions of the climax have been penned and I’m feeling very da Vinci. How utterly silly of me.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Post-Note: Sunday Travel Day bled into Monday Travel Day. Apologies for the unexpected blogless-

ness yesterday.