The Bitterly Sweet

I wrote the following yesterday afternoon.

It will probably hold interest to only a few, to only the die-hard dreamers out there who cry buckets at every dang showing of “Field of Dreams.”

I offer it to you today rather selfishly. I needed to write it, so I did. Apologies..

Tomorrow, I will return to more on-point (i.e. stuff that really matters) issues. So, please enjoy or feel free to look away…

 

I just watched Joe Maddon being introduced as the Chicago Cubs new manager.

You have to understand something about me.  I am loyal to a bloody fault to my chosen sports teams. If you are one of the very few organizations to find your way on to the back, front or top of my personal wardrobe, you have my heart.

Always.

Like forever and an endless day.

Case in point:

Die-hard Cubs fan since 1982.

Die-hard Rays fan since 2010… and yes you can be a “die-hard” fan after only 4 years. Pull for a team who plays 82 games at the sadly and cavernously empty Trop and it’s a crash course in true love. Rays fans are few and far between, but we are scrappers with thunderous hearts.

The perennially cash-strapped Tampa Bay Rays had to trade their ace (David Price and his dog Astro) away this summer simply because there was no money in the till to keep such talent. It was a blow, but an expected one.

Then our GM left for to take over the Dodgers.

Then Joe Maddon, our quirky, brilliant, big-hearted manager, opted out of his contract in October. That blow landed in the gut and I, for one, am still gasping. It was unexpected, though sadly and perfectly understandable.

The Rays organization has many hearts, but Joe and David were two of the fiercest.

So, when I heard the news that my beloved Cubs (perennial losers… 107 years worth of perennial losing) had jumped on the unexpected opportunity of hiring Joe Maddon my world went a little bright and awkwardly brilliant for a moment.

A bittersweet orgasm.

Joe putting on a Cubs hat was just that to this die-harder.

I’m heartsick.

I’m childishly hopeful, bordering on the giddy.

I’m either going to puke or giggle madly.

Maybe I’ll do a little of both.

There’s a reason they call it die-hard, folks.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

 

 

Jitterbugging Behind That Cellar Door

Feeling a little scatterbrained this morning as my momentous “Montgomery with Monteverdi” road trip is making itself known.

The grey matter sputtering between my ears (i.e. brain on panic) is crying foul at yesterday’s efforts. In fact, I believe the old cogs are attempting to do the Jitterbug.

Please allow me to state the obvious, here…Cogs don’t dance.

It ain’t fun in the ol’ wheelhouse this morning, folks.

Shoving that aside (and locking it in the fruit cellar that even my ruffian of a 15 pound furry muse is afraid to peek into), I do have a significant amount of work I want to get done today.

Although I’m still in the swaddling stages of writing the Six Brothers project, I’ve decided to set the daily word count bar fairly high… 750 words a day.

We’ll see how this works out. A little tweaking up or down can be expected within the coming weeks. I’ll keep you informed.

Ok, the rattling on the fruit cellar door is getting rather loud.

I better go let the Jitterbuggers out.

Have a great Monday!

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Blame Monteverdi

With Claudio Monteverdi’s L’Orfeo still thundering in my head, I come to you late this Sunday afternoon with an apology in hand.

I’m late.

Hours and hours and hours late.

Sorry.

A four hour one-way ride to Montgomery entailed a four hour one-way ride back from Montgomery. Who knew?

Anyhow, I have returned with a new appreciation of Late Renaissance opera and a re-energized spirit of “Can do!” (For those unfamiliar with my weird woes, driving long distances is a HUGE challenge for me. So this Montgomery run was a really big deal. *please insert pitying music here… lol*)

Tomorrow, it’s back to the grindstone with the Six Brothers.

My personal nonsense will be shoved aside for the romantic entanglements of men who exist solely in my head…

*sighs*

The fact that this is actually my life is frankly laughable.

Please, feel free to guffaw.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Recovery Position

After a spectacular Halloween which saw 81 trick-or-treaters brave Chloe Stowe’s front door (my house has basically been a Pumpkin & Witch Joy-Land for three weeks now), I spent the first daylight hours of November at the local auto repair shop.

Thankfully, the “Check Tire Pressure… Right, Freaking Now!!” light turned out to be just a false alarm caused by the first chill of the season.

However…

(Yeah. Big surprise here.) I don’t do such early morning escapades well.

“Check Prozac Level… NOW!” alarms were pretty much off the charts there for a bit.

Fun.

So, the remainder of my Saturday will be spent in recovery mode.

Do you realize how stupid that is?

*sighs*

Until tomorrow…

Chloe, whose life is just plain silly sometimes

My Affair

I enjoyed a brief affair with the poet William Blake yesterday afternoon.

Yes, the man is dead (long dead, as in centuries in the ground kind of dead).

No, I was not experiencing a disturbing blip on my sanity meter nor was I dabbling in séance-ology.

What I was doing, however, might surprise you.

Care to guess?

*nibbles on a handful of glazed doughnut holes as the guesses bounce off the blog auditorium’s walls*

*smirks smugly when not a single answer comes close to the truth*

I, ladies and gentlemen, was mining for a proper title for the Six Brothers project!

*audience rolls eyes and sighs in grumbling disappointment*

Ok. Admittedly, only me, my mom and a certain four-legged, furry muse probably find this news exciting, but I share it nonetheless.

An inquiring mind or two might wonder if I found that proper title?

That inquiring mind will be happy to hear my “Oh, yes!”

But that inquiring mind will have to wait a bit to hear the long-winded answer. I’ve got to live with it a couple of days to make sure it fits and I’m happy with it.

*that lone inquiring mind rolls eyes and sighs in grumbling disappointment*

Well, now that I’ve disappointed the entire world, I will leave you to your Halloween.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Issues of Gill

Feeling a bit gangly this morning.

Awkward.

Uncomfortable in my odd-shaped gills.

Being the new fish in the mainstream romance market is frankly a little daunting.

I’m feeling tiny.

Laughable.

I’m the little, wiggly thing that the big fish point at and ask “What the crap is that?”

While this is most likely only a momentary “Oh, f**k. What am I doing?” moment, it is one I thought it only honest to address. (That pesky “full disclosure” thing I promised way back at the beginning of this daily blog adventure in January keeps coming back to bite me in the butt, it seems.)

Changing genres, changing home waters, is a big, scary move. Even for us somewhat well-established and (dare I say?) respected authors in small, highly-colorful, and wonderfully exotic ponds, the transition to an entirely different ecosystem is difficult, to say the very, very least.

Is it worth it?

I don’t know yet. Ask me after I sell my first mainstream novel.

Is it necessary?

Yes. If financial considerations are a consideration at all, then the answer is “Yep. Absolutely.”

Unfortunately, all the “Yep”s and “Absolutely”s don’t make my gills feel any less inadequate today.

Geez. Full disclosure is not easy on the fins.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

A Dash of the Arcane

A day of personal upheaval in the family precluded a lot of writing yesterday. (Sometimes being “self-employed” and “freelance” isn’t such a bad thing after all. I have yet to lay myself off. Although my mind has locked me out of the building a time or two, but we won’t be discussing that. *smirks*)

Anyhow, I did manage to get another 100 words eked out. I don’t know whether I should be expecting applause for this “monumental” task or a general wince from mankind at my measly effort?

My shimmying method of working through the Colonial dictionary I fear has about run its course. While I will be constantly referencing the collection of era-appropriate words and phrases, I will be using them simply as flavor.

I want the Six Brothers to be easy to read and follow. Using arcane language that needs footnotes every other sentence does not equal a smooth, enjoyable, romantic read.

Or at least that’s the theory I’m running with.

Please keep your fingers crossed that said-theory isn’t a dud.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe