We all have a list of “musts” at our desk. This is mine: laptop, pencil, paper, web address book, candle, coffee, and limber fingers. I notice something is amiss. My coffee keeps getting cold. The remedy, a candle warming tray that I can set my cup on. It works! I’m happy and I don’t need to leave my tasks to microwave the coffee for 45 seconds.
Wait, my web address book and calendar are missing. At one point I had five calendars floating around the house. Trying to keep them all up-to-date was impossible. So I settled on one calendar which currently hangs on the back door. I really dislike walking to and fro, but the inconvience beats taking two hours everyday to update multiple calendars. As far as the web address book location, well, one of the children must be using it to check their grades online. Perhaps two of those will be needed.
I am forever rearranging rooms and space. Seeking a better place to stash something, utilizing fancy plastic boxes to put things into only to find myself needing to take something out and forgetting where I stashed it, has become a preoccupation I deplore. Why this infatuation with organizing? Am I trying to make sense of the world or am I just being tidy. Sometimes I think my life is a puzzle that never stops moving. Like the magic mirrors and mobile walls in the funhouse ride at the carnival, you enter one room thinking you are heading in the right direction, only to find yourself up against a wall that does not move and you need to adjust yourself to break through.
The creativite process is a science that has tricks and tips significant to our unique being. What works for you may not work for me. Why I find myself pounding out chapters sitting at my favorite chair and not at my desk, is beyond my understanding (and a possible explanation why nothing ever stays stagnat and I am always on the hunt for a pencil).
I wonder if Jane Eyre or Beatrice Potter ran into these same phenomenons? I know I spend far more time organizing than getting words formed into books. My motto is this “Forever writing and never having said a word”.