Timeout

The “Never Give Up” banner gets rather old to hold. It weighs on a constitution, leaving a soul strained and a heart harried.

May I ask for a timeout to catch my breath? Or will I be called out of the game forever?

Until Monday (travel day tomorrow)…

Chloe

Exsanguination

I’m prepared to challenge myself to writing 14,000 words in 14 days starting May 1. While this may seem like a pittance to most authors, I seem to bleed out my words (painfully, messily, at times grotesquely), so a story dump like this would be a major event.

Can I do it? Yes.

Will I do it, is a better question. The heart says yes. The bloody mind, as always, is a little iffy.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Turk

I’m flirting with a bit of cold turkey.

Oh, this complete and total break from writing Blue will only be temporary. In fact, I’m positive the chilly fowl will take flight May 1. However, I’m hoping this fling with ol’ Turk will breathe new life into this author and her stalled story… Besides, I’ve always been a sucker for a guy with wings.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Hard Limit

A word from the battle-scarred writer... Establish a hard limit on groveling.

While every new, up and coming author will inevitably be forced to contort to whatever any publishing house demands, once footing is found the groveling should cease.

This is not easy. I’m seven years into “published writer-hood” and I’m still struggling to say no and walk away.  

Bottom line: Book spines and writer spines can co-exist. Tattoo this on your forehead if necessary.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe 

Crumble Not

May looms with an ungodly amount of work to be done.

Despite my basic mope-mouthedness the last week, I refuse to view this upcoming mountain of writing as a bad thing. We (the four-legged, furry muse and I) are taking this as a healthy challenge. I rarely back away from a dare, skittish as my brain circuitry may be.

So, bring it on, world! I may complain, but I will not crumble.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Tiring Mechanics

I tire of it.

The machinery --the cogs and wheels and endless, tedious gears-- of dragging my misfiring brain through a day with a modicum of dignity and a whiff of grace is an exhausting prospect to meet every morning.

I tire of it, but more importantly I cling to it. I gladly mash my face into its gears each day, vowing never to let go.

The constant paradoxes of mental illness are invisible to most, but are relentlessly present nonetheless.

Yes, I tire of it.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Interpretation

Contamination or enrichment? This is the question muddling my head this morning.

Do my knock-down, drag-out fights with anxiety, panic and OCD detrimentally bleed through to my fiction, spoiling the effort? Should I combat this taint at all costs?

Or do my mental battles simply spice my writing, adding a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’ to my tales? Could this be the one positive to a completely negative situation?

That, my friends, is the question.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

A Toddling Life

When riddled by OCD, sometimes it is necessary to break the most enjoyable of habits in order to sanely keep them. That, my friends, is what happened yesterday. I did not write a daily blog to prove to myself that it was ok for me to write a daily blog.

???

Today, I turn 45 but, alas, am still playing the teetering toddler in the land of sanity.

I think this tot needs cake.

Now.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Validation

Validation is a rare commodity in mental illness.

There are no blatant physical markers to announce your condition to the world. No x-rays to show your bit of brokenness to doubters.

Symptoms are met as complaints. Responses vary from a roll of the eyes to a “Cowboy it up!” Dismissal then follows.

My 45^th birthday is Saturday. If I can’t have a New York Times best-seller, maybe I could have a spot of validation instead?... Just a thought from a mad woman.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Gossamer & Bourbon

A plot may be sheer. Like gossamer, the storyline and its characters may lay upon a setting, accentuating rather than hiding the locale beneath.

In Blue, the city of Kinshasa is as much a player in the romantic tale as the would-be lovers. In fact, the Congolese capital could rightfully claim second billing below the starring leads.

But beware, young authors! This gauziness is remarkably hard to pull off and should only be approached with patience and strong drink.

Until Thursday (travel day tomorrow)…

Chloe

Playing in the Dirt

So, I’ve spent the last 3 days immersed in a crash course in Small Business Website Building. (Dry as dirt, you say? I’m still picking crusty, little, sandy bits from between my teeth the morning after.)

Anyhow, I am now relatively ready to start self-publishing my re-vamped, freshly bulked up, previously published novels. While the first couple of novels will be sold via Amazon and its nifty e-book program, eventually I plan to publish myself.

I am now one significant step closer to that and ready to toss back some celebratory champagne… if  

ever get the dirt out of the teeth, that is.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Land of the Unknown Tone

I’m striking a remarkably different tone with Blue… and it’s kind of freaking me out.

What is particularly teeth-gnashing is the fact that I don’t even know what “striking a different tone” really means… or how I’m doing it… or whether it’s successful… or whether I like it.

The Land of the Unknown Tone is a rather infuriating place to be. If I click my heels together three 

times do I get to go home? Do I even want to?

Pardon me, I’m off to have an existential writing crisis.

Happy Easter, everyone!

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Irrational Bones

Ignoring the paltry nature of the word count, there was actual meat on the bones of what I wrote yesterday. This is a significant improvement over the last week when the little I did manage to crank out was more fat than lean.

While rationally it may be too early to call this a turning point in Blue, I will do so nonetheless and cheer. After all, irrationality has always been a dear friend of mine.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe 

Death, Be Not Small

Some deaths save countless souls.

Some deaths seem only to torture.

On this Good Friday, may we find understanding for both.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Jumping Blame

The Blue blahs still linger.

I could blame “real life” as it’s been particularly cruel lately.

I could charge my OCD-pocked brain with the crimes, as my mind has been especially tangential of 

late.

Or I could just get my writer’s butt in gear and get to work.

Bottom line: Time spent cursing stumbling blocks would be better spent jumping them.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Story Terrarium

The scaffolding around Blue is now complete. It’s a little twiggy, shaky if the wind howls just right, but it will do.

The novella can now grow as organically as it pleases as long as it fills its 5-chapter structure by May 31. I feel this is a fair compromise... a caveman’s story terrarium, if you wish.

Yes, I feel better now. Let’s just hope Blue does as well.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Ingenuity Required

Writers spend inordinate amounts of time tinkering. Be it with the plot, the ins and outs of the characters or a stubborn paragraph, ingenuity often plays as big a part of the process as grammar or style.

This is good. This is natural. This is, more cases than not, utterly infuriating.

Bottom line: Don’t be afraid to fiddle with things. Genius often lies in the details.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Discovering the End

Time for a shake-up.

Blue and its organic mojo has wilted on the vine for weeks now. Despite time, patience and babying, the novella simply isn’t growing. So, it’s time to grit my teeth and throw some structure at the story. 

At the very least, I’ve got to establish an endpoint, a destination for the plot.

Monday’s goal, therefore: discover the end.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe 

The Other End

While many out for a run might stop to pet a cute puppy en route, I will be eaten, digested and expelled out the other end of said-hound before my jog is allowed to continue.

My OCD threw me to the dogs yesterday.

Five hours were lost before I was pooped back out into the rationally functioning world.

I am so tired of this stink.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

When the Beast Laughs

I continue to flounder with Blue.

What concerns me the most is that it’s not so much of ‘can’t write,’ as it is an issue of ‘don’t freaking want to write.’

My chronic Panic Disorder is intrigued by this. If (when) the bloody beast becomes tickled at it, I humbly suggest running for the hills.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe  

Anchor Wanted

My creative juices runneth everywhere.

Drifting, drifting, drifting, from one project to the next, never really landing, just buzzing all my manuscripts with one eye to what is next.

Lash my writer’s soul to an anchor, someone, and drop me somewhere kind.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Post-note: Well, I believe that’s the worst case of mixed metaphors I’ve ever spewed out. Apologies.

Jump

Time for another leap of faith.

Once “Blue Is Not the Sky” is delivered to Dreamspinner Press at the end of May, I am diving into the big, scary, unknown world of self-publishing.

Twelve of my previously published novels whose full rights have been reverted back to me will be re-released with 10 to 20k word additions. (I’ve always found that I run out of time not story, so this will be an opportunity for me to finish these novels as they were meant to be.)

I’m more excited than terrified at this particularly leap, so with eyes wide open I’m jumping, people!

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Game On!

Well, I have no more excuses. The four-legged, furry muse and I now stand alone against “Blue.”

Writer versus story.

Nut versus job.

*downs a handful of Prozac*

*dons a Knute Rockne face *

Let’s get this novella done, people!

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Schlemiel! Schlimazel!

I spent 10 hours in a car today.

At some point I slipped into a fugue.

I emerged singing the theme song from “Laverne & Shirley.”

This can’t be good.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Missing Bits

I stumble over the building blocks of writing.

Still.

Even though I’ve been a published writer for 8 years now, I still find myself tripping over the ‘things’ nobody bothered to teach me. (Note how I throw the guilt onto other’s shoulders. ‘Blame-flinging’ I was taught well, apparently.)

Having never taken a creative writing course in all my much ballyhooed collegiate years, the basics of story structure, etc. still escape me. It is a piteous truth that my mind will not allow me to resolve.

Bottom line: No matter how ungracefully done, do not allow piteous truths to become pitfalls.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The Jupiter Complex

The Great Red Spot of Jupiter.

The Endless Nightmares of Chloe.

Both mysterious, seemingly everlasting phenomena that demand further study… However, NASA’s not probing this girl, no matter how crazy the crazy gets.

This not-so heavenly body does tire of its Spot, though, and really wishes it would be dug out by some enterprising, kind-handed aliens.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Post-note: Nightmares galore last night. Sorry for the bleed over.

The Nervous Cricket Knows

Long or short? Short.

Plotted or organic? Organic.

Explicit or implicit?... *a nervous cricket chirps*

Yeah, so this would be the next question I need answered for Blue. Should my new novella be blazing hot or simply sweet? X-rated or PG? Thrusting hips or longing lips? Positives both ways, I suppose.

*sighs*

I’m bored of such decisions. The nervous cricket can take this one.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe