by Deborah Atherton
There are some creative people who live and work in pristine environments,
who can maintain a space where there is a place for everything and everything is in that place. They function beautifully in these spaces, and sometimes even thoughtfully raise a bonsai tree or two.
I live in a space that is full of my family furniture and four generations of books, photographs, art work and random Tibetan prayer shawls. I have my great-grandmother’s tea table, my grandmother’s theater playbills, my mother’s seashell collection, my father’s backgammon set, and the next generation’s collection of comic books and manga, not to mention the entire family genealogical archives in my walk-in closet.
Recently, I participated in a decluttering workshop run by the wonderful lifecoach Sallie Felton, based on her new book, If I’m So Smart, Why Can’t I Get Rid of This Clutter? I thought I was in it to get the books and files off the floor in my office/bedroom but as it turned out, Sallie, who has a genius for this stuff, addresses not just physical clutter, but emotional and mental clutter. And in the process of going through her exercises (which I recommend highly to all of you!), I realized that the clutter that was bothering me most was not the physical clutter around me (although that may well be what is bothering my family and friends most) but the clutter inside my head and my computer: the books and stories and songs that were completed, or one intensive edit away from being completed, but not out circulating in the world where they should be.
We all have reasons for not sending stuff out: it’s not perfect yet, or we don’t have time, or it maybe got rejected once or twice and we don’t want to experience any more rejection. But until I took this workshop, I hadn’t fully realized I had TWO FINISHED BOOKS sitting idly on my computer.
One of them was a collaboration with my sister, friend, and collaborator, Susan. We had finished it in the last century, but two rejections, and moves, caretaking, and deaths in the family had led us to put it on the back burner. I called her in the midst of my decluttering effort and suggested we pick it up again, and publish it, by any means necessary. We are now in the midst of the required intensive edit, and are going to get it out the door and make it stay out there, no matter how much it pleads to come back in.
Another is my literary novel, which grew out of my “dating stories,” and captures a certain kind of New York social life in the first decade of the 21st century (you see I was moving along.) I sent that out exactly once before it ended up back in my computer. And out the door it will now go this fall, after a less-intensive edit, before another century has passed.
We talk a lot about rejection on this blog, and I thought I was at least mostly over it, and in terms sending out my short stories, maybe I am. But apparently the novels are another story, and one I somehow shut out of my mind and pushed to the bottom of the pile. With Sallie’s help and encouragement, I am on it.
And, you will now ask, how about those piles of books on the floor?
Well, some of them have gotten into boxes, but apparently, I am not yet ready to clear the decks and bring in the bonsai trees. But that’s okay—there’s obviously another decluttering workshop (or maybe ten) in my future, and another thing Sallie will tell you is that you have to start where you stand, and change is always incremental. I’ll keep you posted.