Ask anyone who really, truly knows me, and they will tell you I'm a mess. Not in my personal or professional life, but in general. I've been known to forget about laundry that has actually gone through the washing machine for a couple days. I hate going through the mail. I have, currently in progress, seven books that I'm reading; all of them are stacked up on a side table. I grab what I fancy.
My desk is the same way. It's actually divided into two halves – one half with my sewing quilting stuff (it's a large desk!) and the other for my writing. The sewing side? Always put together and everything in its place. Cutters, thread and bobbins in cubbies, sewing machine folded under, cutting mats stacked neatly. It works for me. The writing side? Full on clutter-fixer's nightmare. I have a stack of magazines to one side, a marked-up calendar sideways over the top. File folders and notebooks standing between my funky-chicken pen holder and what is left of a set of bear bookends. Computer, iHome, coffee mug with yet more pens, a few pictures. Scared yet? And two special things (okay more than two, but two that I'm blogging about today): a Boyd's bear with a laptop and a stress ball with orange-feather-fly-away hair.
I keep the Boyd's bear on my desk to help me remember to BIC HOK (butt in chair, hands on keyboard). I can be easily distracted from my plans. RadioMan lovingly calls it SBS (Squirrel Brain Syndrome): Oh, my plan is to submit an 80,000 word romantic comedy to Publisher X, oh, but that shiny new idea about Victorian vamps in gunfights with Western cowboys and gunfighters? That could be so much fun! So those shiny new ideas don't kill my plans and keep me from finishing anything ever again, I keep the bear on my desk…because the bear is always BIC HOKing.
The stress ball? Well, it's a stress reliever, but it's also an idea finder. I can't tell you the number of times I've picked through the fly-away feather hair searching for something…and found it. So it stays on my messy desk filled with random paperclips, eye drops and a weird white cord – a cord that attaches to nothing, that I don't know what it does and yet I can't get rid of it.
The thing is, my organized disorganization works for me. When my desk is perfectly clear and uncluttered, I find myself staring at the vast expanse as if the words will magically appear. In the clutter, I don't need to look around because the words are already coming. What about you?