I love notebooks. No, I’m positively addicted to notebooks! For years, I used to write my stories into notebooks of various sizes: big ones for the novels, smaller ones for poems and short stories. I celebrated the beginning of each new poem-&-short-story notebook by spending a lot of time choosing a motto or a poem (by somebody else) to go on the first page. And on the last few pages I always included a table of contents and yet another poem (again by somebody else).
I no longer write as much poems as I used to, and of course, I eventually (i.e. when I found out that typing 700 handwritten pages is rather boring indeed) started to type my novels into the ‘puter straight away. So, no more excuses to buy notebooks.
But this morning, when the muse overcame me while I was feeding the kitties and I sat down on the kitchen chair and started to scribble on some loose paper, I thought how absolutely lovely it would be to have a notebook to accompany my novels. A notebook to jot down the synopsis and character drafts. To write outlines for later chapters. To take notes of research tidbits.
Since I was absolutely thrilled by the whole idea, I went into my study and rummaged through my “writing cupboard”, where I keep all my old notebooks, my collection of (mostly German) rejection letters (but I’ve also got one signed by Marion Zimmer Bradley — cool, isn’t it?), and all the books from the 19th century I need for my research. Oh yes, and there is also a pile of yet unused, virginal notebooks. Unfortunately, none quite fitted the purpose I had in mind. So what should a girl do in this case? Of course: go out and buy a new notebook!
I found some really beautiful ones (by http://www.paperblanks.com/), which are made to resemble old books. Oooooh, so lovely!
So my muse and I are quite happy this evening! :O)