2.
Writers the world over rely on them as the starting points for their
stories. Neil Gaiman writes all his first drafts in them, filling
decorative tomes with his flowing script. David Almond scribbles his
ideas and thoughts down in a notebook and describes his job as having
to translate those notes into a fully-formed story. Paul Magrs uses
school exercise books to write his novels.
3.
The purpose of the notebook is whatever you make it. It can be a
place for ideas, scribbles, doodles, cuttings, poems, photos, first
drafts or a combination of them all. It is, most importantly, your
own space, and a stranger
looking into it should feel as though they are gazing on your pure,
raw thoughts. A tidy notebook is a reflection of the owner's mind. A
messy one, more so.
4.
They are a way of capturing your thoughts, of trapping them in ink so
they don't float away into the night. You won't use a lot of what
goes into them, but that's okay. Eighty or ninety per cent of the
pages will be covered in scrawl that is unusable (in my case,
unreadable), but the remainder will be pure gold.
5.
It is important to experiment with your favourite type of notebook,
to find a fit with your writing, your way of life. Do you prefer A4,
A5 or A6? Hard or softback? Spiral bound, perfect bound, saddle
stitched or legal pad? Plain or decorative? There are as many
variations as there are writers, so search for your soulmate.
6.
Digital pretenders try to usurp the throne of the mighty notebook;
the elephantine Evernote – the social Pinterest – the humble
blog. None can take the place of the battered book in my pocket,
waiting to be folded, felt, fondled, to be torn, scribbled on and
abused. The tactility of the notebook its USP. An individual feel
which can not be replaced.
image: Billy Alexander: http://www.sxc.hu/profile/ba1969
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