So I'm reading (again) an article about The Brothers Grimm. Or is The Grimm Brothers? Either way, there were two of them, and their names were Jacob and Wilhelm. These two brothers lived in Germany, loved folklore and fables, and began to collect stories of magic and royalty like we might collect marbles or coins.

Now, I happen to have this enchanting article lying around because I used it for research in a book of poems called Castles and I can't just throw it away. And I can't file it, because then I might as well throw it away. Same difference. So it lies here on my floor. This way, it won't get lost in the phantom files, and I can glance at it once in awhile while I eat a tuna sandwich. Or when I need yet another reason to procrastinate writing. The trouble is, I have five thousand thirty-two articles about such magical subjects as the Brothers Grimm. Not really, that's just metaphorically speaking, but you get the idea.

What to do with all the papers we word lovers hoard. Looking around my main desk, a smaller desk, the couch, a table and the floor, I see a smattering of papers: an old SCBWI Bulletin that includes something important that I really needed to keep (but I'll have to look through it again to remember just what that important thing was), a letter to be answered, a bio to fill out, a card to send, photographs that need to be copied, three poems I am revising, the beginning of a new picture book,