stockvault-no-dogs-allowed-sign133743The muse is clingy this morning.

Plastered to my hip like a warm, fuzzy band-aid, she is snoring to the beat the band. I wonder if this bodes ill or well for my writing day?

*sighs*

Aren’t muses usually fluttery little things that dance in the sunlight? (Picture butterflies with feet.)

Or, at least, ethereal souls wrapped in fine silk togas? (Picture Greta Garbo on the steps of Delphi.)

Furry, fifteen pound dogs who take haughty exception to bows in their ears and cats in the universe are not the typical muses.

Well, maybe they should be.

Loyal, stubborn and pushy to a fault, what else could you possibly want out of a muse? And if some come with attitudes and pensions for chasing lizards, so be it. I won’t complain.

Just remember… Pamper the muse and she just might pamper you right back.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe and her warm, fuzzy band-aid

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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