. . . that's how I felt a couple of weeks ago when I felt I needed to make some changes in my life. I was dealing with a return of vertigo which seems to come and go when my life has stress or is disorganized and messy. Messy was hardly a word to describe the plethora of books in my life. I had books piled up in the living room, filling end tables, spilling off the numerous bookshelves in our house. They were double booked on my bookshelf in my husband's office and mine. I had glanced at this literary cataclysm so many times it no longer jarred. But when the vertigo came back, so did the disquiet over the mess I saw every day. It was time to simplify at least this area of my life and when the vertigo eased, I dug in. I thought the job would be easy. If the book hadn't been read in the past two years, out it went. But books are peculiar things. They attach themselves to in you unusual ways.
(This is a guest blog by Carolyne Aarsen. Since writing her first novel in 1997, she has many more published novels to her name. You can read more about Carolyne at www.carolyneaarsen.com)