I had a bit of an unexpected visitor yesterday.  My 16th novel apparently did not appreciate being tucked away in the “Done!” closet and dropped by for crumpets yesterday afternoon.

Yes, I did say crumpets.

Frank (my specter of imminent failure) and his loud-mouthed parrot, Lola, shouldered their way in the front door alongside Pound’s copy edits.

I was not pleased.

Bits and pieces of my Six Brothers’ project had been meticulously strewn out over the couch, the floor, the tables all primed and ready for the attention the Revolutionary War mainstream romance so richly deserves.

Twenty-one chapters, ten (more or less) major characters and a trunk load of notes were tacked on walls, hung from ceiling fans, and, in one rather ugly case, harnessed to my dog’s back all ripe for Chloe’s talented hands…

*Frank chunks a crumpet at my head and whines, “Geez, get on with it, will ya?”*

To put it shortly…

Pound’s edits showed up about week earlier than I had expected.

The edits were well-done and handled quickly and professionally.

Bits and pieces of Six Brothers were then collected and packed back up for another day.

I sighed.

My dog sighed.

Frank and Lola did a little jig… my manic self-doubt thrives on copy edit days.

So, today I will try again to turn my attention back to the Six Brothers… as soon as I shove the freezer up against the front door.

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

2 Comment on “Do Not Answer That Door

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