*the lump of blankets on the couch moves, grumbles incoherently and yawns*

*a rat nest of mussed hair pops out of an afghan fold, your blogger’s eyes eventually follows*

*a scowl is born*

Nightmares are crap.

Unmitigated clusterf**ks of filth.

*your blogger retreats back under the covers*

*muffled, unclear but insistent, the voice continues to grouch…*

I’m thinking the five hour long, marathon bad, bad, BAD dream I had last night is punishment for yesterday’s work…  Well, I suppose “work” is a bit of an overstatement.  I’ll let you judge for yourselves.

I settled down in front of my computer with the intent to put a hurting on Book Three. Knocking down the 500 words I didn’t knock down the day before was at the tip top of my agenda. It was. Really.

*a guilty clearing of your blogger’s throat rumbles from deep beneath the blankets*

*the sheepish confession follows…*

I researched instead.

The research was on Book Three, however, so at least I aimed my folly in the correct direction.

Yep, punishment.

My mind knew I should have been cranking out actual words rather than needlessly investigating atmosphere/history/scenery.

Someday I’ll learn my lesson.

*snickers into the afghan*

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

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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