stockvault-wall-clock-for-the-kitchen130831Apologies all around.

I failed to blog yesterday.

I had it all written out in my head, punctuation perfected, paragraph breaks properly outfitted. It was magnificent. (In my head, many, many things are magnificent.)

Alas, a change of familial plans negated the entire blog-line.


So, poof! went the post as well. It was late. I was cranky. And nobody should be made to deal with that combo.

Anyhow, Friday should see a return to a more normal schedule of my daily posting times. If it’s any consolation, The Hushing Days is also suffering these days from my lack of writing focus. The poor manuscript is still quietly writhing in edits. (Listen real carefully and I bet you’ll hear its whimpers.)

But life happens, and, sorrowfully, writers like the rest of humankind have to deal.

*dramatically sighs, as only a poor, tortured and totally sarcastic writer can sigh*

Carry on with your Sunday, my friends.

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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