clearing the cobwebs, or writer uses shop vac to tidy up painfully obvious metaphor

This is my writing shack. It is a former garden shed that a few years ago my husband spiffed up for me. It's my own clean, well-lighted place.

Okay, not exactly. It is well-lighted. But clean? Not unless I clean it. And each summer, once we start coming up here regularly on the weekends, I dread the annual Writing Shack Purification. The reason: During the winter all sorts of Naturey things happen in the Shack. Rodents invade and sometimes die in there. Spiders spin webs, moisture peels the plaster, chunks of ceiling beam fall onto the floor. (I suspect termites.) The result can look like something out of a Stephen King novel.

This summer I put off viewing the carnage until now, mid-July. I would just sort of notice the Shack up at the top of the property and avert my eyes.

What horrors await?Then a couple of days ago my friend Davyne asked to borrow the Shack during the week. It seems for years she's driven by our place twice a day, on the way to and from work, and has fantasized about finishing her own novel in there. Davyne is a lovely person and I was more than happy to share the Shack. (I only wish she had worked up the nerve to ask before now.) But I couldn't let her see it in its winter disrepair, so this weekend I took a deep breath and went inside.

Okay, it could have been worse. There was sawdust everywhere, some serious cobwebs, and some mouse droppings. But considering the way it's been in years past, this was nothing. First I dragged all the furniture onto the lawn. Then I got the trusty shop vac and went to work on the chunks of wood, flakes of interior paint and of course the mouse droppings.

If only someone made a brain vac.As I worked it occured to me—as it would surely occur to even the most mediocre writer—that the interior of the Shack is a little like the inside of my head.

I haven't done much work on Novel Number Three since last fall. I have an idea for the book, and I, at least, think it's great. I have a few chapters, too, but for various reasons I'm not really feeling that book right now. As a result my brain has become pretty cobwebby. I thought maybe the Shack Purification—the literal removal of debris, the restoration of a grimy place to its clean, well-lighted state—might inspire me to finally start writing again. I know I will eventually; why not now? I simply need to decide: Do I stick with original Novel Number Three, fabulous but currently problematic, or put that aside for a while and try another novel?

It took me about an hour to get the Shack back in shape. Meanwhile, Davyne came over for a bit and we chatted about original Novel Number Three and a new idea I've been tossing around. She helped me clarify my thoughts about what I should be writing next, and I think I've made a decision, which I'll run by my agent tomorrow to get her blessing.

Meanwhile Davyne will now be working in the Shack during the week.

I think she'll like it here.