We live in the age of excess. Westerners accumulate more material goods than previous generations could ever imagine. Overwhelmed, we struggle to organize our stuff. Over time, we lose control of our lives.
In extreme cases, hoarding creates a kind of madness, now listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Hoarders refuse to throw away even useless junk—old newspapers and magazines, cheap SWAG, books and records, clothing, plastic bags, food leftovers, broken appliances and electronics, collectibles, dead plants, old pet toys, broken dishes, empty bottles, you name it.
Hoarders—and others who just have a hard time getting rid of stuff—develop an emotional relationship with their things. “I paid good money for that,” people say. “I want to get some use out of it.” They also have a fear of the future. “What if I need it?” they ask, trembling. We develop relationships with things, so we actually feel sorry for the things we discard: “That clock’s been with me since my wedding day. It needs a home.”
But when we keep too many things, they get in the way of living. In a cluttered home, we spend endless hours searching for things. We forget what we own, so we waste money buying more. With an untidy home, visitors avoid us. We lose or ability to make distinctions between what’s useful and what’s not. Over time, the tyranny of stuff isolates us from the rest of the world.
To the rescue comes a Japanese woman named Marie Kondo, a consultant for people who struggle with hoarding. Her tidy little book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, has become a global sensation. Last year, Time magazine called her one of the 100 most influential people in the world.
Kondo–or Konmarie, as she is also known–works as an organizing strategist. With the discipline and unwavering commitment of a general, she moves into people’s homes and clears out the mess. Her strategy is simple:
Begin with the end in mind: “Before you start,” Kondo says, “visualize your destination.” Imagine the world where you want to live—where you know where to find everything, where every possession brings not only utility but joy, where you don’t waste a minute looking for things. Get specific. Don’t say, “I want to life a clutter-free life.” Say: “I want to live a more feminine lifestyle.” Or: “I want the kind of place my kids want to bring their friends.” Or: “I want to hold dinner parties and sing songs around the piano.”
Gather and arrange your stuff: Take all your belongings out of closets and bureaus and other containers—all of them, every last piece—and lay them on the floor.
Sort things by category, not location. You can never know how many things you have unless you bring them all together, in one place. Many of our duplicates are scattered into different rooms and containers. Because our things are scattered into other rooms, we often don’t know how much we own. We might think we own eight pairs of pants and actually own 40 or 50 or more. So get them all out into the open.
Only by bringing them all out into the open can we see the absurdity of our accumulation. “In one spot, you can also compare items that are similar in design, making it easier to decide whether you want to keep them.”
Discard: One by one, decide what items to discard and which ones to keep. “Discarding must come first,” she says. “Do not even think of putting your things away until you have finished the process of discarding.
Keep only the items that “spark joy.” If you have not used something for a long time, it’s probably because that item doesn’t excite you. So discard it. “Keep only those things that speak to your heart,” Kondo says. “Take the plunge and discard the rest.” Love is the answer.
Work from easy to hard: Start with the easiest items to assess. Begin with clothes, then books, then papers, and then other supplies and equipment. Go from easy to hard. Getting rid of a garish or torn piece of clothing makes it easier to discard the artwork with sentimental value that no longer matters.
Deal with emotional attachment: If you have difficulty getting rid of something, for emotional reasons, pay your respects as you would with a friend who’s moving out of town. Thank them for the joy and service they have brought you. Think of the good they can do elsewhere. “Let them go, with gratitude,” Kondo says. “Not only you, but your things as well, will feel clear and refreshed when you are done tidying.”
These principles also work for editing. Start with a vision of what you want to give your reader. Lay out all your stuff: the good, bad, and ugly. Examine one category at a time, in the correct order, from big to small.
Start with the whole piece, then move to sections, then to sub-sections, paragraphs, sentences, and specific elements (quotes, stats, metaphors, observations, clever wordings).
Solve your easy problems first; sometimes fixing easy problems makes more difficult problems disappear; other times, it just makes them easier to handle.
Keep only those passages that work—the ones that truly say exactly what you want to say, simply, clearly, and convincingly. When you cut a passage you like, take a moment to appreciate how it helped you to understand your topic. Then let go.
Let’s give the final word to Marie Kondo.
“As you reduce your belongings through the process of tidying,” she says, “you will come to the point where you suddenly know how much is right for you. You will feel it as clearly as if something clicked in your head and said, ‘Ah! This is just the amount I need to live comfortably. This is all I need to be happy. I don’t need any more.’ The satisfaction that envelopes your whole being at that point is palpable.”
