I have slain the office closet monster. This is not a story for the puttering o' heart, I assure you.
After The Great Mysterious Thud of 2005, which turned out to be my shoulder-high stack of bleeding red-ink, post-contract Tantalize (Candlewick, 2007) drafts crashing to cover everything else that was littering the floor of my office closet, I simply started throwing whatever I wanted to keep (but not in the main room) on top.
Today, post an afternoon's cleaning, not only is the hardwood closet floor in sight and the back wall shelves organized (from top to bottom with padded envelopes, backlist stock, mailing and storage supplies, lined paper and files of media clips, and more inactive files), I also have, awaiting GLS's drill, five clear plastic, slotted shelves to be mounted against the north wall.
My plan is that extra office supplies and all inactive files will go in the closet. In-use supplies, pending research resources, and active files will be in the main office, which is teeny.
Highlights of Unearthed Closet Treasures: satiny purple pillows; CC's sparkly leprechaun hat from WF; a black Sony phone; headphones; an eight-pack of AA batteries; a nine-pack of mini audio tapes; a Coldwater Creek beach bag (with a $45 tag, which I think I got for free with purchase); a Wonder Woman greeting card; a white extension cord; a September 2004 issue of "Intellectual Property Today;" a "My Head Is Full of Children" bag I recall buying at Book Woman; two Scooby Doo spiral notebooks; an April 2002 issue of "Austin Home & Living;" a bean-stuffed Pooh bear (classic, not Disney version); a rare Indian Shoes ARC (my other one was stolen when I spoke at an SCBWI conference; nope, I'm not spilling which chapter); my party favor from the Second National Book Festival; a copy of Fiction First Aid: Instant Remedies for Novels, Stories and Scripts by Raymond Obstfeld (Writer's Digest, 2002); and a copy of Building Better Plots by Robert Kernen (Writer's Digest, 1999).
I still have work to do, but my office will be organized by the end of the week. I swear it on the grave of the Closet Monster.
