Warning! If you are a neat freak or clutter consultant, proceed at your own risk! Not to mince words, my office is small, overstuffed, and yes, modestly messy. I’m a piler, not a filer; a hoarder, not an unloader; a scribbler on scraps of paper, old envelopes, and a veritable army of post-it notes. As I write this and survey the scene, it isn’t pretty. Piles of paper abound. Catalogues, newspapers, and a forlorn, unused To-Do List pad sit in one stack on the floor. A huge dictionary, a book on Earth Spirits, a legal pad filled with handwritten notes, and sections of my YA novel are piled in another. You get the picture.

Then there’s my desk. I know, I know! It’s supposed to be absolutely clean, naked, uncluttered. But guess what? It’s not. Anything but. I’ve got a Christmas troll sitting in a tiny little shopping back printed with “I love you on it” parked on the left. A picture of Sojourner Truth, the subject of my unfinished play, sits next to it. Jockeying for space is a stack of index cards with inspiring quotes; two stones with the words, “Gratitude” and “Persevere” etched on them; and a cute little white porcelain dog with flying ears and a rose in its mouth.

Just above my desk, sitting on the ledge of a big window, are a jumble of things I somehow keep adding to: a wooden frog picture, a tiny ivory turtle, two stately ink bottles, a snoopy-at-the-typewriter ornament, a lovely wooden angel from my husband, another angel holding a fortune cookie quote: “You are original and creative,” and on and on. There probably isn’t an inch of space to spare.

But hey, it’s my office and I’ll do it my way! It’s painted a bright cheery color called “Fairy-tale blue” which is just perfect for me and when I look up from my computer I see photos of my son Alex and a beautiful little crystal dog he gave me. Whenever I walk into my cozy little writing space, I feel happy – and ready to work. And that’s what counts, isn’t it?  OK, I’ve ‘fessed up. How about you?