Post #77 – Women’s Memoirs, Author Conversations – Kendra Bonnett and Matilda Butler
Does Clutter Keep You From Writing?
[GIVEAWAY: Keep reading for information on how to get a free copy of A Cluttered Life: Searching for God, Serenity, and My Missing Keys
I need quiet and an uncluttered desk to write. In the midst of a chapter, as I am right now, the piles begin to build. I have a stack of books, open file folders, three separate composition books, and an assortment of newspaper and magazine articles tucked in, on and around the piles. Today was the day when I had reached my limit. I couldn’t think or concentrate on the paragraph I was writing until I tidied my space. When everything is orderly, I simply think better. I know other writers who thrive on clutter because to them it isn’t clutter. It is necessary information resources.
Well, since tidiness of important to me, I was fascinated by Pesi Dinnerstein’s new book, A Cluttered Life: Searching for God, Serenity, and My Missing Keys
Pesi taught English and language skills at CUNY for more than 30 years. She has been an aspiring author and self-acknowledged clutterer for many years, and has spent the better part of her life trying to get organized and out from under. Despite heroic efforts, she has not yet succeeded; but she continues to push onward, and hopes that her journey will inspire others to keep trying as well.
Pesi has written for you a funny blog about her insight that it was time to take control of her cluttered life.
In addition, Pesi and her publisher, Seal Press, have generously donated a copy of her book to be given to the person with the best comment. Therefore, we invite you to recall a time of clutter (or unclutter) and share it with us in the Comment section below. Win us over with your comment. We’ll contact the winner via email.
AND be sure to come back next Friday when Pesi returns with an absolutely wonderful roadmap of her journey of writing, editing, publishing, and marketing her book. She tells me that she feels like a big sister, eager to share information and advice with a younger sister ready to go out on her first date. Come back on February 17 to get the view from the side of a published author and for a second chance to leave a comment. A comment on each of these two blog posts will get you even more points.
And now… to Pesi.
WRITING MY WAY THROUGH THE FOG
By Pesi Dinnerstein
For most of my adult life, whenever anyone asked what I wanted, I always gave the same answer: clarity. There was, of course, something to be said for my consistency; but it was a sad comment on my life that, year after year, I was still searching for the same basic tool of living.
I bought a button in the early ’70’s that said “Onward through the Fog,” and that pretty much became my mantra for the next two decades—until one morning in 1995, I had an unexpected breakthrough.
I woke up early that Monday, feeling exceptionally focused and ready to face the week. I had just spent Saturday night and all of Sunday working on my closet, convinced that the first step toward mental clarity was physical order. I was determined to begin my week on the right foot by making certain that whatever I needed was well organized and easily accessible. No more of those frantic searches for missing shoes and lost umbrellas while running out the door to work.
I had just finished writing in my journal when a glance at my watch told me that it would soon be time to leave. I wrote a bit more and made another cup of coffee, luxuriating in the knowledge that getting ready would be a breeze with my rehabilitated closet.
I opened the door and took a moment to appreciate how beautifully arranged everything was on the new shelving unit that I had actually assembled myself. However, as I reached for a sweater on the top shelf—which I had, no doubt, placed a bit too high—I suddenly lost my balance and began to tip over, grabbing onto the unit for support. In a matter of seconds, the entire structure came tumbling to the ground, in what appeared to be an unmistakable vote of no confidence from the Universe. I sat upon the floor in tears for several minutes, my piles of neatly folded clothing lying in a heap around me.
And that’s when The Voice got going.
“You’re not really surprised at this, are you?” it whispered in its usual mocking tone. “I mean, it was quite predictable, don’t you think? It’s not like this sort of thing doesn’t happen to you all the time.”
“Stop!” I said out loud. “I’m not in the mood to hear this now.”
“Ah,” The Voice continued. “But you have no choice. I’m the Voice of Reason—you have to listen to me.”
I looked at my watch. I still had some time.
“Okay,” I said, deferring, as always, to that very old and familiar Voice. “You can speak for ten minutes, and I’ll write everything you say in my journal—but that’s it. Then, I have to leave for work.”
Like a dutiful scribe, I recorded every word that The Voice uttered in my head without censoring or changing anything. I had never done this before—and I certainly had no idea that it would change my life.
“Why do you still seem so shocked?” the Voice began. “Surely, by now, you’ve realized that things will never change. You can spend the rest of your life trying to create order, but it won’t make the slightest bit of difference. The shelf will always collapse; the keys will disappear; and one sock will mysteriously vanish from the other. That’s just the way it is.
“No matter what you do,” it continued, “no matter how close you come, you’ll never make it into the place where the normal people live. You might as well just accept it. You can breathe on the window; you can put a foot in the door; but you can’t get in because you belong around the corner with all the other people who don’t have it together yet. And the best you can hope for is an occasional visit to the Normal Wing. But, even then, you can’t stay long; and you’ll always have to return to your cluttered little cubbyhole, where all your unpacked boxes, piles of paper, and dirty laundry await you. Not just today, but . . . ”
“Wait a minute!” I interrupted. “You’ve gone too far this time. I’m not totally hopeless—and you’re not the Voice of Reason. In fact, you’re really quite ridiculous yourself. I’ve been listening to you my entire life, and all you’ve done is distort the truth and keep me trapped in the fog. I think this relationship has gone on long enough.” And, from that day on, whenever The Voice has spoken, I’ve refused to listen. Sometimes I don’t recognize it right away, but once I hand it a pen and a piece of paper, it usually reveals itself pretty fast. Then, I try to move as far away as possible and, with that same pen and paper, get in touch with my real voice—the one that’s so much harder to hear, but that always leads me out of the fog and down the road to clarity.
If you prefer the Kindle version, please use the link to the left.
And please do leave a Comment below. We’d love to hear your story of clutter or declutter. We are eager to hear from the memoir writer’s point of view what clutter means in your life.
