This is my desk.
Not exactly the most inspiring thing you've ever seen, I'll bet. And yet when I first brought the desk and got my beloved to put it together, I was so excited to have my own little writers nook. I was going to get so much done. Words would happen.
But as you can see, it soon became a dumping ground for writer-esque bits and bobs. There are some very good ideas scribbled on scraps of paper in there. As well as last year's diary. And at least 15 copies of Writers Magazine.
It has become a hotspot of dumping. A black hole of clutter, drawing into itself more and more essential pieces of paper that one day, I'll have time to look at.
I am completely tempted to sweep it all into the bin and just start afresh. The messy pile has become a source of guilt. It has also become prey for the procrastination demon who assures me that if I just spent a little bit of time sorting it all out, not only would I have a clean desk but my mind would feel decluttered. And then I'd be able to write.
Well... be that as it may, I wrote over 5k yesterday, perched on the edge of an armchair. Bolstered by tea, cookies and Classic FM I got a lot done. But the desk remains a blot on my copybook.
So I caved in. I cleared everything off it and dusted it and am now sat at said desk, typing this blog post. It feels strange. And yes, I still have the pile of stuff to sort through but maybe that can be tomorrow's problem.
Claire Buss is a sci-fi, fantasy & humorous writer and poet, completely addicted to cake. Find all her books on Amazon. Join the discussion in her Facebook group Buss's Book Stop.
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