Decluttering and writing

by Donna Andrews.

“Show me a writer with a clean house and I'll show you a writer on a deadline.”

I'm not sure who originally said that, but if it wasn't a writer, it was someone who lived with a writer. Yes, a looming deadline can make otherwise unappealing chores seem fascinating. And the more writing pressure I'm under, the more appealing various cleaning, organizing, and decluttering chores become. I'm still 500 words short of my day's quota. Egad! My spice cabinet needs alphabetizing! I'm a week behind where I'd like to be in my draft. I cannot go on until I purge the coat closet! The book is due tomorrow. My pantry needs to be completely emptied and reorganized!

And the urge to clean and declutter is more insidious than other writing avoidance activities, because it feels virtuous. Not only is it a useful thing to do—which cannot be said of computer solitaire, scrolling through Facebook, or rereading all of Agatha Christie's Poirot books. Cleaning and deluttering actually feel as if they would help—wouldn't it be easier to write in a clean office? A clean office in a clean house? Would't the resulting serenity have a positive effect on my prose?

One of these days I'll find out.

The urge to purge is particularly strong right now because I have just been helping my friend Barb get her house ready to go on the market. She's not a clutterbug like me—there were only a few areas in which a jaundiced eye might say she had an overabundance. Boxes—but then, she was saving them for the move, and we've already made good use of many of them. Books—but only from the realtor's point of view; for my part I hold with the theory that there is no such thing as too many books, only an inadequate supply of bookshelves. And paper. She definitely had too much paper—and I admit that for me to say this is the pot calling the kettle black. Sherry Harris, Eleanor Cawood Jones, and I helped her fix her paper problem. The house is now on sale, and looks fabulous—and fabulously uncluttered.

And I am looking around my own surroundings with vague disfavor. If I'd just turned in a book and were waiting to hear from my editor, I'd have no problem diving into a massive cleaning and decluttering project. But I'm in the planning stage, soon to be immersed in the draft. Setting aside a vast amount of time for a complete overhaul would be unwise. I am reminding myself that my last cleaning binge, the one I had to bring to a premature close to work on Die Like an Eagle--which as my publisher would probably like me to mention is due out in August-- resulted in not being able to use my dining room table for several months.

So the complete overhaul of the house—and yard—will have to wait. Perhaps, once I get the draft well launched, I will allow myself to tackle small cleaning and organizing projects, ones that will only take a few hours. A drawer here. A closet there. A stack of papers at the end of the day, with a movie on TV, a recycling bag on my left, and the shredder on my right. Wouldn't it be nice to arrive at my deadline with a finished book—and a clean house?

Then again, it would probably be wiser to resign myself to a little clutter for the time being.

Of course—I finished this blog, didn't I? That's writing, right? So I can reward myself with a closet. Just one. It needn't escalate into doing the whole house. I can stop any time. Really I can.

(Stay tuned for the before and after pictures.)

 

 

 

 

Comments

[Mark]

You know, I could use some serious decluttering. Why don't you come out here to work on your next deadline?

[Donna Andrews]

Will keep it in mind if I need a break from my usual environment. And I think Barb would give my decluttering services a good reference.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

YOu are SO right! Once I thought: Instead of writing--I really need to alphabetize my spice cabinet. Seriously!

[Linda]

Any author with a deadline. and an urge to clean is welcome at my house.

[Cynthia Kuhn]

So funny, Donna. And so true...

[Nancy Roessner]

I can relate to all of this, except the writing deadline. Yet, I am drowning in paper!

[Sherry Harris]

I think we could have a second career as organizers. I need you all to come over to my basement!

[Mario R.]

I've got this entire house filled with boxes and bags of STUFF. Care to come on over? [sighs] [looks around] [whimpers]

[Margaret Hamilton Turkevich]

you forgot weeding, pruning and fertilizing the garden.

[Susan Oleksiw]

It's the paper. I can't understand where it all comes from. And I can't give it away like my old clothes or extra dishes. . . The last 10% of every ms is the most troublesome. That's when I find stacks of books on the floor that weren't there yesterday. How does it happen?

[Cath]

I'm in the midst of downsizing. When I have to be doing it, it's where I'm frozen in where to begin. I'm doing it. You're right though. When I'm supposed to be doing something else, decluttering is so much more appealing and is calling me to it.