stockvault-human-blood-circulation-circa-1911148446Well, I am flu-shotted.

So, my arm is sore and I’ve got a live virus running amuck in my system. (At this point of this really long day, I have no idea if the whole live virus-thing is scientifically true or urban legend. Furthermore, at this point of this really long day, I really don’t care.)

Needless to say my manuscript still sits untouched in the editing corner. (At this point of this really long day, I’m reasonably sure my manuscript is thanking its lucky little stars that I haven’t had the audacity to touch its precious unedited hide.)

In short, this day has been a gigantic black hole of creativity… full of crap but producing not a darn thing. (Again, not sure of the science behind this statement. Again, don’t care.)

Until tomorrow…


Post-note: Apologies for this post, but I feel a daily writing blog should be an honest reflection of the good and the bad of an authorial life. Meet the bad.

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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