As some of you know, I’m a closet pig. Sadly, this has oozed into my weekend and I’m now living in Piglandia.
Last week, my speech team prepared for sub-sections in a marathon of late night practices. Adding to the mix were final preps for the Children’s Theatre of which I had two boys in, taxied a third to and fundraised for. (And yes, I am fully aware that every one of those phrases ended with a preposition. Sorry Mrs. Kirkeby.) Throw in a baseball sign up night and an absent DH for a few days and you can see where this is heading…
Somehow, I managed to keep things relatively ordered–until the curtain opened on Friday night. When the final act closed on Sunday afternoon, I felt like I had been home a total of five hours all weekend.
My house might disagree. After all, how could I have left seven pairs of shoes on the floor in a mere five hours? My speech bag is on the kitchen table, my sweater from yesterday is on the counter and my purse is in the bathroom. I have several sets of keys strewn around the house, and I had to call my cell phone to find it amidst the rubble that has become Piglandia.
My writing life has moments of Piglandia as well. For instance, I just finished my third beta read in as many weeks and have another downloaded on my Kindle. I have a freelance project to wrap up, a speech to write for tonight, and, and, and.
My brain is bursting with plot bunnies (it must be spring) and I have my own manuscripts to scour for content and copy. I’m a writing mess right now.
But, I’ve learned a thing or two about living in Piglandia–both in writing and in life.
I corral my plot bunnies (as found at From the Write Angle), I organize my
keys projects in order of importance and stuff my shoes back into the closet where they belong.
When my world appears uncluttered on the surface, I gain a deeper level of calmness. I don’t fret about messy closets and figure if someone peeks inside them, it’s their problem not mine. After all, I know what each closet holds even if it looks more chaotic than a dozen clowns piling out of a VW Bug. I even know where in the
Bug individual clowns closet individual items might be.
It’s just a matter of getting them there in the first place. Like I said, my house–and my writing world–is usually quite clean. Just every once in a while, things pile up and I need a moment to declutter Piglandia and regain my balance.
How about you, dear writers? What do you do when things pile up and threaten to overtake you? Do you have calming chaos like me and my closets? If so, what is your vice? Or, is your home/writing life spit-shined to perfection in every nook and cranny? If so, how in the heck do you do it?
Curious minds want to know.