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.
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