You might remember me writing about a great organizing self-help book I discovered last summer.  Though this may be a slippery slope, I recommended it to many of those closest to my everyday life: my husband, my boss, my whole team at the office during a training.  Surprisingly, I don't think I offended anyone, and I hope I didn't offend one of my colleagues when I asked to borrow my copy back from her today.

As I try to begin a new photo project, take on more responsibilities at work, and catch up on all the household chores we've let slide lately, it's been a rough road.  Post-it notes and stacks of paper have accumulated on my desk.  Simple tasks -- like signing out the conference room, for example -- have slipped my mind.  My to-do list has officially reached a length where I sit at my desk and wonder just what it is I need to do.

I tell this story not to advertise the book again -- the last name thing is just a coincidence, okay? -- but to point out how all this can stifle the creative process.  Unhealthy disorganization absolutely kills self-esteem, which makes beginning a challenging new project especially hard.  There are many BFAs in my cohort who spend "more time thinking about art than creating it."  Clearly this is a problem we all need to confront and deal with at some point.

The hardest part is, I know my lack of motivation/impetus to sing, play music, make art, open and sort the mail, keep the house clean, etc. doesn't spring from a lack of joy in doing those things.  Most likely, it springs from an imbalance in my brain chemistry, something I have to work hard every day to reign in.

Plenty of artists -- perhaps a disproportionate number -- struggle with this, and in many creative individuals a little chaos is even considered unique, inspired, non-conforming.  The reality is, for some of us it can be crippling.

So I am breaking out my book again, admitting my word isn't as good as it was a few months ago, and acknowledging that staying on top of my game -- and that means being happy, confident and productive -- is a hard process not without its backtracks and obstacles.  I have to imagine it's like and addiction in some ways: going through the steps, seeking support, and feeling like I'm swimming against the current of my natural state of being every day in order to stay in a good place.  But I just need to focus on the positive reinforcement I get from every forward step I take, no matter how slow the progress.

I've been sticking with the book I found in the library, It's Hard to Make a Difference When You Can't Find Your Keys, feverishly digging through a cardboard box full of every journal I've ever owned to find the elusive blank notebook.  I found one, an old black Mead "Grad" composition book, not like the marble ones I started with in my Harriet the Spy days but a college-ruled one of the variety I obsessed over in high school.  Perfect.  In it I began to complete the writing exercises in It's Hard to Make a Difference as studiously as if I were on one of my regular spurs of inspiration to learn a new language or to pick up the piano.

Though it's been difficult lately, I'm interested in keeping my heart in this self-help book, this time, because it seems to speak to my particular situation in a way no other has come close to doing.

For one, It's Hard to Make a Difference tries to debunk the myth that creative people, including visual artists, are inherently disorganized, their chaos somehow feeding their inspiration.  This is a familiar image.  The professors and visual artists I respected most in college existed in tiny basement offices, surrounded by dusty stacks of books, desks piled high with papers, old rickety shelves and file cabinets, student work mixed with their own and balanced upon any spare real estate they could find.  Many of the most powerful role models in my professional life suffer from overwork and lack of order in their workspace, a plague that only serves to perpetuate the idea that visionary, influential people necessarily exist in a whirlwind of chaos.

For those of us who find this claustrophobic and stiling in their own space, there is hope.  Organization does not always equal unoriginal, uninspired.  For the first time, I am connecting leisure time and creative work with organization and neatness.  All this time, I have blamed my busy schedule for my lack of initiative.  As it turns out the problem is, as with so many things, that I cannot get my life in order.

After tallying up the financial, emotional, professional, and creative (new addition duly noted) toll of my inability to reign in my mental disarray, I'm ready to commit to change.  It takes me months to deposit checks to my bank account, and I've misplaced them completely more than once.  For someone earning 105% of the poverty line, this raises a big red flag. I feel I will never attain true direction or productivity in my creative work until I get organized.  Every day I feel tormented by clutter, projects unfinished, plans never realized, and it keeps me from indulging in meaningful projects outside of my job.

Little by little, I am trying and working and making slow progress.  I really want this to be the "once and for all" that begins a change in course.  There have been many "once and for all" turning points, though, so I need to keep my optimism in check and remember to be a little hard on myself, knowing good intentions have never gotten me anywhere in terms of my disorder.

I will write on another topic next week, but expect this to be a subject revisited in coming Words + Images posts as I explore the relationship between creativity and disarray.  Also, I am interested to know: do you feel a sense of chaos in your daily affairs and your workspace?  How does this affect your capacity to reach your creative potential?  Feel free to visit the comments section of this page to let me know what you think.