I am a clothes horse. There. I’ve admitted it. And not at a private, closed-door, members only meeting. Oh, no. I’ve shouted my admission out to the entire universe! Well, the blogosphere, anyway, which is pretty much the universe.
A few weeks ago, author friend Jamie Brazil issued a harder than hard challenge, one that I wasn’t sure I was up to taking on. (Gulp. Thanks, Jamie. I owe you.) But it was either accept it or run the risk of being labeled a wuss the next time she laid eyes on me. And no way was that happening!
The challenge: pare down my closet just like she did, and then write a blog post about it. In Jamie’s case, her goal was to have no more than 100 pieces of clothing. And while she was successful, I’m not going there. *Snort* As. If. But I did manage to justify parting with a few things: 2 pairs of jeans, 2 blouses, and 4 sweaters. And a dress. . .. Maybe. Still not sure about that one. . ..
I have to admit, a week later, regret runs deep, even with the clothes still neatly folded in a donation box in the garage and not actually out of the house. Yet.
I mean, what if I need that polka-dot blouse again? What if it’s the only thing that would go with a particular pair of pants? Or skirt? Or maybe *gasp* it’s the perfect match to a pair of shoes I’d forgotten about but will eventually unearth? Then what? It’s not like I can go hunt it down again. So I haven’t worn it in awhile. Big deal! It’s not like it’s the only piece to have that distinction. *innocently looks up at ceiling and whistles while she snatches a price tag off a dress she’d forgotten about* Is it my fault I have choices?
Never mind, don’t answer that. Especially if you’re a dude. Specifically, the dude I woke up with this morning. (Hi, honey!)
I have to admit that the process of sorting through my closet has forced me to think about story – what it is that’s essential, what’s too much, and what has to be
given away cut from the pages. It’s made me think about how tight and clean a manuscript is once all the extras are gone. And it’s definitely made me think about making every sweater word count. This is what my readers expect, and this is what I aim to deliver.
And honestly? I think I do a better job paring down a story and should leave my closet alone. Which means I should grab that box out of the garage and put my clothes back where they belong. Right? 🙂