It's rare that I fall into an unsentimental mood, but when I do that's the best time for me to clean house.

I feel like I've been having a mini depression lately, not for any emotional reason I can deal with by talking about, but the kind of depression that makes me want to ask my psychiatrist for more pills.

Anyhow, I've been working really hard lately--I need to write this script for a producer who considers herself a fan of mine, as well as get everything prepared for my own film--we begin shooting on August 8th.

So the last thing I needed to be doing today was lying in bed watching My Life Without Me. I was scheduled to work on my film, but I didn't want to get out of bed.

My writing space had become too cluttered. Papers everywhere. In my mind, I began to blame my slow progress on the mess, and that was enough to make me resent it. That's when I became unsentimental. I packed up about 100 lbs of manuscripts. I didn't look through them to see what they were drafts of, I just packed them up for recycling.

Then I threw away a ton of other stuff. Things people gave me, things that I had kept to remember people by.

Now my space is clean. My mind feels clearer. I think I will be able to write for the rest of the day.