Like I mentioned last week, my birthday was recently and I was paid some attention for which I was/am grateful.
Now I would like to talk about one of my gifts—a notebook. And not just any notebook, a “gilt-edged” notebook.
I know that means the edges are a gold colour, but I don’t know why it’s so special. The dictionary just says it means the paper is high quality.
OK, so I got a nice notebook for my birthday.
I don’t particularly care for the cover though…I mean flowers are nice and stuff but…
Maybe I’ll use Mandy’s tutorial again and just cover the notebook with scrapbooking expertise, which I picked up thanks to the 30 Day Challenge (thank you 30 Day Challenge).
But the reason I’m talking about this gift today is because I didn’t even know I was longing for a notebook. Didn’t even realize it. The last time I had a notebook I used it for wedding planning. We had all our notes in there, our hopes and dreams and plans and guest list and to-do lists and on and on. It was great. We made all sorts of computerized lists and appointments and notes and such but the old notebook came in more handy and useful than all the modern technology combined.
And I haven’t had a notebook since.
That’s, like, a while!
When I was more of a journaller I would carry a notebook with me everywhere. I actually looked forward to times of waiting so I could jot down blog or article ideas, book ideas, musings, goals, or whatever else. I loved travelling by bus or train so I would have extra time to sit and think. For some reason there’s always something to do at home but in those moments of travelling…well they’re special. I’ve worked out a lot of stuff sitting on the bus. And I have a box of notebooks to prove it.
Now that I drive myself around most of the time I don’t jot notes down so much, which is probably why I haven’t noticed my lack of notebook. But I have some travel time with work coming up in the next bit so this is excellent timing to get back into it.
I have the distinct impression using my new notebook will quick start my creativity in a way typing items into my smartphone never can.
Weird right? It has got to be something psychological in my brain…respect for the act of writing and knowing how to use a pen or something.
What do you call a writer who only knows how to type?
Oh, and I’m OK with the blank page thing (lack of lines). I feel it allows me to be a bit more “out of the box.” Yet still constrained to the page.