J is for junk:



No, not the junk I have accumulated in my trunk over the years and which has since become a welcome padding between me and any rock I choose to sit on, but that which one accumulates over time. I had spent several weeks cleaning out the cupboards of my physical home and had found to my utter surprise that I was a mini-hoarder. I surround myself with books and the sentimentality of old Christmas and birthday cards. Craft books, wool, crochet cotton, scrap book paraphernalia, paint and brushes are third on the list of hoardable materials.
I have several works in progress; I get bored easily. This probably explains why I have six short stories and three novels that I am working on at the same time. I figure if I get stuck with the dreaded writer’s block, it would be easier to move on to the next story and free my subconscious to work on the abandoned one. Besides which, my mind keeps throwing out new stories. If I don’t dream them in entirety, a snatch of conversation or a news story sends my mind reeling with ideas.
Sir Laughalot was kind enough to escort some of the Novel Ideas from the subconscious to a more permanent home. To get rid of superfluous junk I asked my chimney sweep, a Raggedy Andy doll to format and declutter my brain. She got stuck in there with gusto and dusty tendrils escaped from my ears and nose. I sneezed loudly and a tiny cabinet appeared. She stuck her head out and said: “I put in a new, decoupaged filing cabinet, get rid of that old junky thing.”
I did as I was told and wondered at the junk still to come and how much it would hurt.

52 ideas to get organised




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