Yesterday my desk reached a critical mass of clutter. My creative space is pretty indicative of the way my brain works. At the base level, everything is organized. There’s a place for everything, and things are generally in them, maybe not alphabetized and color coordinated, but generally in the spot where I’ll know where to look for them.
The reason I have to be organized on the ground level is so that I’m free to make a certain amount of mess while I work. Notes and books and scraps of paper and postie notes and iPod cords and Excedrin bottles and tubes of Burt’s Bees Lip Balm. That’s normal. As are the 12 lipglosses and assorted hair scrunchies. But when I’m REALLY hitting it, then there’s an accumulation of coffee cups, drink glasses, candy wrappers, unsorted junk mail, bills I’ve paid but haven’t filed yet, plus reams of paper drafts–the one with my editors notes on it, the next version with MY notes on it, the outdated section with my critique groups notes on it.
Anyway, yesterday I couldn’t find the map I’d drawn of Bluestone Hill Inn, the setting of the RWIP. reWIP? Anyway. The revisions I’m trying to get done. So, I finally took some time and cleaned up my office. Here are some things I rediscovered in the process:
- Floor in front of my bookshelves
- Two pairs of flip flops
- My Jane Austen Action Figure
- Magazine turned to article on how to stay organized
- Three lip-glosses of the same color that I keep forgetting I already own.
- My favorite baby name book (for characters, don’t anyone get excited)
- Starbucks gift card (Yay!)
- SFWA dues notice. (Oops. ☹)
- Card from (Thank you!)
- Three packages of Maggie Quinn Hot Mints
- Thermacare heatwrap for arthritic hand (right) that unfortunately doesn’t do anything for arthritic mouse-button finger (index)
- K. Hudson Price’s birthday present. (Oops again.)
I guess I can add "my mind" to that. But that remains debatable.