I don’t know if I’m doing it right.
Yes. It’s simple, childish, and probably a sign of a cowardly soul. But there it is.
After writing and selling lots and lots of novels in the m/m romance genre, I had gained a certain amount of confidence that I knew what I was doing and that I was doing it right.
I’ve always been a creature who appreciated a pat on the head every once in a while. Just a little assurance of “Hey buddy, nice going. Keep it up.”
Selling a novel every three to four months is a remarkably fine pat on the head.
Insecurities have rushed in in the absence of such gestures.
Frank (my long-missing specter of imminent failure) has begun to rattle my front door again. And as a result, I’m closing the blinds, turning off the lights and hiding.
Apparently, I can’t write in the dark.
So, do I keep cowering behind the sofa, pecking out a sentence here and there? Or do I risk throwing back the curtains and letting light and Frank back inside?
The answer is unfortunately clear…
Time to clear off the end of the couch and whip up some crumpets.
Frank is back.
God help us all.
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