Y’all make lists? At this exact moment, my desk is littered with at least a dozen of them. Let me make a list so you…no, wait. I’m trying to cut back. It’s hard, strains against ingrained behavior, but I Am Going to Cut Back.

Recently attended a workshop where this very topic came up. On a list, actually. Ehem. You get my point, I hope. If you didn’t, I’ll most likely blog at that as well. But back to the list thing.

Turns out, list making is a common trait for first born children. I wasn’t the first born but I was the first born girl (two older brothers) which makes me a semi-first born. Actually, I think the whole listing thing comes from forgetting stuff, realizing I forgot stuff that Really Must Be Done. Makes the whole day go south at that point. So to circumvent myself, I make lists.

Stuff to do today, books I want to read, topics I must research for the current book, books semi-plotted, short stories ready to be edited, how far and how deep I must research to make a particular character come to life, what happened in 1996 as a setting for current book, ad nauseam.

When the list of lists gets out of hand, like now, I give up, pour a cup of tea and do some fun research. And wild as it seems, the world does not end. In fact, it settles into a lovely moment of amazement. Which makes me consider burning all the lists around me. But then the fire department gets involved, the word arson gets tossed around, yada yada yada.

LSH (long suffering husband) provides me with plenty of notepads, nods a lot when I rummage for the list I made last week, and putters in the garage. He keeps his lists in his head, where I can’t find them. Or lose them.

That obsession he gets, even as he shakes his head at the others, like looking up the origins of phrases or words (going south, mess hall, friend) and writing blogs.

So, back to the original question, y’all make lists?

Me too.