stockvault-ivan-the-terrible102298With Celeste Holm, Anne Baxter and Bette Davis sparring so brilliantly for screen time in “All About Eve,” my Friday has arrived with style, fire and brilliance… Pity I’m about to screw all that up. *lol*

Daunting is the correct word to use for my work load today.

*a bright, young scoundrel by the emergency exit yells “It’s your own damn fault, lady! Don’t ask us to cry you a river.”*

Conceding to the loudmouthed lad in the blog’s audience, I admit that I could have planned things better. Going to see a new doctor –

*”It was a psychiatrist. Geez!” the same annoying little twit corrects”*

*my dog eats said-annoying little twit*

–could have been scheduled for a time not quite so ripe with deadlines. However, with this mental health stuff you’ve got to strike while the iron’s hot (in other words, go as soon as you’ve worked up the nerve.) So, I will forgive myself this planning faux-pas and move on with my life.

I heard from my literary agent yesterday. She’s is very excited about my “Six Brothers” project and wants me to get to work on that as soon as I finish up The Sun and the Sand Cat (mainstream Romance Thriller set in Africa).  This is noteworthy on several counts:

1.) I actually have a literary agent (still not quite believing that one; constantly pinching myself and leaving nasty bruises all over the place *chuckles*).

2.) It actually looks like my Revolutionary War-era Historical Romance (that would be the “Six Brothers” thing) is going to come to fruition. I’m really going to write it. Wow! Who knew, right?

3.) I’ve got enough literary pots on the fire to assure I will never sleep again (remember Writhe’s sequel is due mid-July, with Book Three of the series due in October).

4.) Never mind the sleeping thing, eating is out the window too.

Oh well, as the bits of gristle between my dog’s teeth would have said in his squeaky voice, “It’s your own damn fault, lady.”

Yes, it certainly is…

But ain’t it grand!

Until tomorrow…


Acclaimed author of 17 novels (my dogs and mother adore me), World traveler (I’ve felt the Sahara Desert between my toes… still gobsmacked over the stars in the Sahara) And survivor (of three dirty-fighting gremlins named Anxiety, Panic and OCD)… My name is Chloe Stowe. Hello. If you’ve found your way here, you’ve most likely arrived on the coattails of my blog, The Words and Madness of Chloe Stowe. Started in 2012, my daily rantings now number in the thousands. Ranging from humorous to moody, poignant to absurd, these tiny tidbits of thought began as a way to get my name “out there.” It has long since morphed into an effort just to “be there” for anybody out there struggling with words or madness, like me. Quick biographical sketch of me? Nerd turned nut at nineteen. In my sophomore year at Auburn University, I was taken out at the knees by severe panic attacks. Chronic anxiety soon joined the dogpile, followed shortly by OCD tendencies. Oh, it was ugly. I eventually had to quit school and soon quit life, as well. I spent a good chunk of my 20’s not able to leave my room. Twenty years later, it’s still can get ugly in my head. Thanks to meds and doctors, however, I am able to lead a better life, now. I still can’t work outside the house, but I can live and smile and write. So, here I am. Broken, but stubbornly present. I hope my voice proves company to someone lonely out there. Thanks for reading! Chloe Stowe

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