My Affinity to Notebooks

Reading Celia Rees’ blog on notebooks wanted me to talk about my relationship with notebooks too.

As a kid, clothes and toys didn’t excite me as much as a new notebook, crisp sheets and blank pages. I had plans for all of them blank notebooks. I wanted to decorate them, wanted to be neat and tidy until the last page was finished.

When growing up, school notebooks had to be covered with brown paper. Learning how to fold a large sheet of brown paper and tuck it tight on a notebook was an art. I learnt by experience and a lot of standing outside the class as punishment that my aunt can fold it perfect, whereas my dad was absolutely no good at it. Perhaps one of the first things I learnt as a kid, was to wrap a notebook with brown paper, tight, without glue, cello tape or staples. Shoe laces came later, actually, I still can’t do shoe laces properly. That’s another story and for another blog post later.

Some rebels used white paper, while some used blond beach brown while the conservatives used dark brown. Then you had to stick labels to write your name and class details on it. Most kids showed off their talent here. Kids chose labels with flowers, animals, dinosaurs and even deities.

I rebelled even more. My dad couldn’t afford to send me to the private school I was going to. I saved for every new notebook I bought. So I covered my note books with newsprint or any other paper I could find. The teachers and other students never made me forget that my notebooks looked cheap, and pedestrian.

But I found this to be a great hobby. I hunted for old calendar sheets – glossy ones were my favourite. I found large newspaper spreads with animals on them, some with flowers, funny advertisements. The cover became my voice, my creativity showing off on dull social studies notebooks.

It made great conversation topics. It distracted teachers and actually made them expect shoddy work inside. But when the notebook was opened, it was always neat, tidy, underlined with red. The sheets were still crisp with no dog-ears. The notes were clear, the assignments properly written out.

Perhaps today teachers will think of it as green. Why buy new crisp, noisy brown paper when you can use Sunday newspaper?

Today as a grown-up with gadgets like a PC, laptop, tablets and mobile phones with text pads, word processors and anything in-between, I still go notebook hunting. Whether I am visiting Berlin for a wedding or going to Switzerland for a look-around, I always find a stationery shop. I browse for hours, looking at labels, novelty book-marks, new type of pens and pencils, interesting magnets and of course notebooks.

I prefer a specific type of notebook and I have notebooks I bought even 6-7 years ago, that haven’t been used because I haven’t got an idea worth that notebook. Sometimes I think I guard them too much. I don’t let anyone take one from my stash –  and I touch them ever so often.

Some are expensive to the point that if I could sell them back, I could eat for a month. But if you worry about the price of my note book you are missing the point.

Every notebook in my collection needs to be interesting in some way – a textile cover or an artwork or a special type of binding.  It can be small or medium. I seldom use bigger than an A4.

But the lines inside have to be light and wide. I don’t like writing between narrow lines. They restrict my words. I don’t like thick lines, they somehow guard the words and prevent them from flowing, being themselves. I seldom keep the words between the lines. I am seldom tidy, even if I promise before I start. I use them for everything from a scribbled haiku to a To-Do list.

Some notebooks come with me – handy sized, fits within my bag. Some are muse-journals, they sit near the sofa, ready to be snatched and have a poem copied from the Guardian website or a quote I just read or a word that occurred to me. Some notebooks are for projects – they are littered with idea maps and crayon markings – even though I can’t draw. Some have an entire picture book laid out multiple times.

I bought 20 A5 sized notebooks from Muji. They are the perfect size – they last a couple of weeks in my busy weeks and a month if I am being lazy. I can date them, they are plain and I can write all sorts of first draft rubbish on them without feeling guilty about the price of my experiments.

Natalie Goldberg writes in her book and told me when I did a course with her - writing on a notebook uses a different muscle to the one that gets used when tapping away on a keyboard. I feel writing on a notebook is less anxious, less distracted. I can think, scratch out, copy and start again. Although I could do most of that on a computer today, I still think scratching out on a notebook and writing another word is immensely satisfying.

I might move from printed crime novels to electronic versions. But I am never going to give up my penchant for starting a new story on a new notebook. 

Want to show me photos of your notebooks? Post here.