Neglected Tendencies

One takes the bad with the good, I suppose.

Case in point: My full-body tackling of The Hushing Days edits this past week has left my travel blog unabashedly neglected.

I have not so much as touched my writing security blanket.

I have not even looked its warm and fuzzy, though thoroughly useless, way.

Bad travel blogger.

Good novelist.

Why can’t we all just get along?

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Ragged from the Trying

I flail.

Constantly and absurdly.

Like a flea lashing out against the wind (i.e. electric fan) through which his promised land lies (i.e. sheep dog.)

I do not say this lightly. Likening oneself to an annoying, toothy gnat is not nice on one’s self-esteem, let me assure you.

But there you are, or there I am rather… Flea-like.

What’s brought this on, you might wander?

My travel blog. You know, old “Tiptoeing Soul.” A decadent, voracious but much needed muncher of my spare time. Yesterday I spent five hours writing/posting the thing… a thing no more than a dozen or so people will ever read.

Why would I do such a foolish thing?

Flea-flailing.

This little flea fated to be financially dependent on family forever continues to lash out heartily against the electric fan (mental illness) of my existence.

Let’s be brutally honest for a moment. I will most likely die essentially broke and alone one day. But, if it’s any consolation to anyone, my bones will be buried exhausted and ragged from the trying.

Whether this is good, bad or sad, I frankly don’t know.. but I don’t think fleas generally care much about appearances anyhow.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe, the Flea

Post-note: In case you are interested, in this one analogy my “sheep dog” would be making enough to file income tax. A small sheep dog, to be sure, but one that would be cherished absurdly.

Fiendish, I Say

I have never once in my illustrious life been called fiendish. I feared it was simply not within me. Just as chatty, sparkly and chummy are fundamentally beyond my DNA, fiendish was a laughable offense of which to accuse me….

Until my travel blog, that is.

As I’m sure you well remember, I am using my “Tiptoeing Soul” blog to feed my writing fix until familial circumstances permit me to return to the final edits of my 18^th novel, The Hushing Days. An enjoyable undertaking all around, plus a nice break from fiction writing…

Well, that was the plan, at least.

Here’s where the fiendishness comes in.

In last week’s Tiptoeing Soul post and in this week’s, I have somehow managed to slip in fictional characters to help me introduce the writing nook. Last week it was a “cockeyed” bloke who stumbled upon my blog. This week, it’s a nasal-voiced auntish character with disapproval seething from her every cockle. These players are only present for the opening paragraph or two. They have no names, no existence beyond their one brief interlude but they are, in my mind, wholly fleshed out fictional characters.

Fiendish use of a travel blog, wouldn’t you say?

I should feel guilty, I suppose.

But I don’t.

Not even a pinch.

I guess, I truly am a fiend.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

A Blissful Couching

It was refreshing, really. Two hours of bloggy bliss, I’d go as far to say.

Curling up on a borrowed couch, laptop snugly on lap, four-legged, furry muse on hip, I demanded and received two hours of uninterrupted writing time. My travel blog proved another use as I rightfully claimed that a post had to be made last night or I could just as well give the project up for lost (alright, a bit of exaggeration that, but I do prefer to post once a week and it had been a long seven days indeed since the last Writing Nook had hit the airwaves.)

Anyhow, it went splendidly.

I do so love to write.

Sometimes you forget the love you have for a thing until you revisit it, however briefly.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe