Truth Before Tact

*claps hands together, blows into them anxiously*

*stares down at Chapter Eighteen, who lies sprawled but wiggling on the editing block, soft belly exposed and trembling*

I feel like I’m about to gut a puppy.

Eighteen is everything good about The Hushing Days. It is the manuscript’s core, its beating heart, its soft, squishy soul...

Yep, gutting a puppy here.

So, you go enjoy your day. I surely won’t be enjoying mine.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Post-Note: Sorry about the imagery here, but editing can be ugly business. Sometimes truth must come before tact… now, excuse me while I go smooch my furry, four-legged muse silly.

The Little Engine that Will

Pat me on the head and give me a treat! I’ve been good.

*decides against yipping like a small dog and allows the metaphor to die there*

My Book Two word quota of the day has been met. 750 words in the bank to an account that will one day pay off with a novel, first class.

*decides against mimicking the sound of a cash register for fear of startling the dog into chuckles*

As per usual with my odd creating style, a small, afterthought of a secondary character has now gained title card billing. The guy has no name, no physical description, no background but, man, does he now have a juicy part in a Chloe Stowe novel! *lol*

No word from either literary agent or publishing house today.

*the world mocks surprise*

I’m with you, earth. I’m shocked.

*smirks*

But I’ll keep chugging ahead, keep shoveling coal into my pretty little engine, keep choo-choo-ing down the literary line...

*decides against actual choo-choo-ing and allows this post to die there*

Until tomorrow…

Chloe