BridgeIn a furthering of yesterday’s post in which I complained about “lack of wiggle room” in my first, humongous, mainstream romance project, I’d like to explain my grief a little more clearly.

The way in which I write is this…

Say I’m working on the classic tale of Jack, Jill and the hill that broke his crown. In my mind, I divide the story into four parts (this is heady stuff, so please take notes):

1.) “Jack and Jill go up the hill”…. Characters and setting are introduced. The rhythm of the writing style is struck. Character banter.

2.) “To fetch a pail of water”… Motivations of the characters, the upward sway of the storyline arc, and a wee touch of action come in here.

3.) “Jack fell down and broke his crown”… The climactic scene with high action and “hit ‘em in the gut” drama.

4.) “And Jill came tumbling after.”… The fallout. Everything is tied together for the reader and the audience is left feeling fully satisfied but breathless for more.

Ok, so I hop out of bed each morning, write this blog, feed my face and the dog’s, and decide what I’m feeling that day.

Am I in the mood to write banter?…  Off to Part 1, I go.

Perhaps I’m feeling rather plotty and full of myself?… Action scenes always intimidate me so while I’m feeling heady, I head to Part 3.

Perhaps I’m feeling rather plotty but insecure?… Part 2, where I will no doubt spend the majority of my time.

Or maybe the day calls for playing the tragedian?… Hello, Part 4!

This is all well and dandy (if a bit weird) when writing a 50k Jack and, well, Jack story. (17 novels in m/m romance, remember.)

But, add another three major storylines that must be intricately intermixed and triple the main character count and Chloe’s got a problem.

With everything so laid out, I have no wiggle room to take a certain scene and run with it, just to see what wondrous places it can go.

I know exactly where it has to go, venturing off the well-laid out path is a no-no if I ever want to get this done.

As you can see from the bloated size of this post, I can ramble and sometimes ramble quite effectively.

All rambling in the Six Brothers project has already been done in the crafting of the plot and the detailed lay out of the scenes. There’s no room for blatant exploration, seeing which way the wind will blow your writing that day. I’m shackled to the path. See what I’m saying?


Probably not, but I say it just the same. Maybe someone out there can scrape a little wisdom out of this.

I hope so.

If not, I apologize for the ramble.

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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