Over the weekend, I cleared out a lot of the junk that has accumulated in The Blue Room. The Blue Room has acted as guest room over the years. It was the room where I kept the cat's dish out of reach of the goofy little dog who used live with us. Then, after my sister moved in, it became my writing room because I could no longer get to the desk in the family room downstairs (my former "office"). But most of all, it's been the junk room. The room were things are thrown when one doesn't know where to put them. Or where bags of Christmas gifts and decorations and such go to live until distributed accordingly.
There is still some clutter in there, but I can see most of the floor and get to the daybed (no desk or chair) without tripping. So that's all good.
I think I've also been doing some mental de-cluttering. Last week I quickly whipped out a new structural plan for MMG. I like it. Talked it over with a couple of the Pirates on Monday night and got thumbs up. Ready to rock and roll. Only I wasn't. I needed a couple days to let the last version settle. To live with the new plan and let go of all the stuff (a multitude of stuff, really) that is now gone from the story. It needed to go. Desperately. But that doesn't make it any easier.
Now, thinking about proceeding doesn't give me that little twinge. It's okay to start at what used to be page 110. Not everything from before that is gone, but may appear in an altered form somewhere else. Such is writing and rewriting. Things morph.
The pages are stacked next to me. The purple pen is ready. Tally-ho!
