Fear not, loyal No Pantsers. I've been making up for my laziness on the interwebz by being super productive in real life.
Par example, last week I reorganized my bookshelf. It used to be laid out according to author and genre so there was a chunk of Neruda books on the poetry shelf and all the Salingers huddled together on one end of the fiction shelf. But that was stupid and neurotic and, as it turns out, problematic, because what do you do with something like The Journals of Sylvia Plath, which wants to be with the rest of her Plathiness on the fiction shelf, but is technically non-fiction? Also, I have begun amassing a fair amount of plays in the last couple years, which, to my mind, lie in some nebulous not-quite poetry, not-quite fiction zone, and there's only so much space in the Ikea Flarke bookshelf.
So! Here was my solution:
That's right. It is now organized by color. Books with covers that are primarily covered in warm reds, oranges and browns are at the top, cool hued blues and greens are second, and then I divided the rest into spines that were mostly black or mostly white.
This pleases me on several levels. First of all, it's just prettier. Second, it's deceptively neurotic. It might seem less organized, but this shit took me an hour and a half. And it requires a certain level of observational skill to notice the grand chromatic scheme--the Boy I Like Better Than The Other Boys came over after it was done and I giddily asked, "See what I did to the bookself?!" His best guess before I finally told was, "Uhhhh, you moved the picture of your dog?" My bookshelf is like a brain teaser.
