Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.
—William Morris (1834-1896)
Writing requires editing.
Sure, there’s some great stream-of-consciousness stuff out there – but believe it or not, most of that’s been edited, too. At least, if it’s been published. (I’m looking at you, Virginia Woolf, and you, Gertrude Stein!)
Editing is about stripping away the unnecessary and the distracting, leaving behind a clear and powerful message. It’s about selecting just the right word or phrase. We keep what is most pleasing to the eye and the ear.
The idea of “editing your life” is not a new one, but the phrase is most often used to signify only stripping away, cutting out, reducing, minimizing. And that’s great. We need to do all those things. Less really is more.
But what I don’t hear is the idea of improvement. Refinement. Enhancement.
In the same way that a phrase is beautiful, I want my belongings to be beautiful. And in the same way that I want exactly the right word for the job at hand, I want exactly the right thing that is useful in a broad context.
As you go through your belongings, select and keep the most beautiful and the most useful.
If you love your grandmother’s china but only use it at Christmas, maybe you should get rid of your everyday dinnerware and use the good stuff every day.
Then again, maybe the good stuff can’t go in the dishwasher. Either commit to washing the good china lovingly by hand, or give it away, or sell it, and stick with the everyday china. But make a conscious choice. Maybe you want to get rid of both sets and purchase gorgeous dinnerware that is also sturdy and machine-washable. (Not everyone has this choice, but if you do, think hard before you make it.)
If you have twenty pairs of shoes, which ones do you really need and enjoy? Are they comfortable and attractive? Can you wear them to work and on the weekend? Or are they “one-trick ponies” that match only one specific outfit? (Maybe that specific outfit should go, too…)
Here’s another tip from the world of writing and editing: the most important edit is always the first edit.
If I read a piece of someone else’s work and I am confused, or bored, or dislike a particular phrase, I will strike it or change it immediately. Upon a second, third, even fourth reading, I will know the writer and the work: I will not be confused. I’ll be less bored. The word choice will become familiar, and familiarity brings attachment.
When I begin work on editing a particular room in my house or part of my life, I find that I must act at once. Unsure about that sweater? Out it goes! If I keep it on the back burner, claiming I’ll think about it, then its familiarity will keep it right there in my closet.
We are attached to our things; there is no doubt about it. And the longer we contemplate the idea of getting rid of something, the harder it usually is.
So trust your first instinct. Take your red pen and ruthlessly remove the clutter, the distraction, the not just right. And keep the things that are beautiful, useful, and precious. You’ll know them when you see them.