I — The Magic of a Notebook
Computers, with their applications, make it possible to write long bodies of text in short amounts of time. Not only can drafts be completed faster on laptops, but they can be shared with the world through blogs.
There are many reasons why some might prefer to write on computers. However, I believe that ink and paper can give words special life. I’ve written many of my drafts in journals before sharing them here.
We live in an age of uncertainty, when we have reason to believe that some new books were not even written by humans. I’ve come to believe that angry articles are not the best way to protect human creativity. The most powerful way to ensure real writers have a place in the world is creating human art.
Stories, on their own, are enough. Set them loose, and they will not be defeated.
There’s more to writing in notebooks than filling pages with words. Each handwritten page asks something of us: patience, attention, a willingness to linger. Sentences become physical records of the moments in which they were written.
If you, like me, struggle with owning more notebooks than you know what to do with, read on. Perhaps I can convince you to buy another.
II — The Possibilities are Endless
There are countless ways to use notebooks.
Recently, there has been a resurgence of the commonplace book—journals used to gather quotations and fragments of thought. I’ve loved reading posts from people who explain how they use their commonplace books. There is no wrong way; each is personalized to reflect its owner’s way of thinking.
A few years ago, I was swept up in the bullet journal trend. I attempted, more than once, to start my own. Ultimately, I realized that the bullet journal system did not suit the way my mind works. Commonplace books, with their delightful hodgepodge of thoughts and curiosities, have been far more natural to me.
You might keep a reading journal, a morning pages notebook, a poetry journal, a sketchbook, a travel notebook, or even a humble notebook devoted to grocery lists. You can gather all of these things into one volume or spread them across what has come to be called a journaling ecosystem.
And if you prefer to collect beautiful notebooks without any intention of writing in them, that is acceptable, too. Even an unused journal is not wasted.
When my grandmother died, I inherited several notebooks from the drawer where she had kept her collection. She bought them because they delighted her. I remember smiling when I realized that her “notebook problem” was every bit as serious as my own.
It seems, after all, to be a family trait.
III — Notebooks are Timeless
If you, like me, find it difficult to turn away from a pretty notebook, rest assured that we are in good company. Some of the most iconic artists and authors kept notebooks for different reasons. Many used them as personal diaries, others wrote poetry and novels by hand, and many did not limit themselves to one topic.
Leonardo da Vinci’s notebooks contain far more than marginal notes about art or sketches giving form to his paintings. He possessed an endlessly curious mind, taking a deep interest in science, philosophy, mathematics, engineering, and anatomy. His notebooks reveal little about his private emotional life. Instead, they are filled with inventions, observations, sketches, questions, and experiments—as though his greatest conversation was with the world itself.
Virginia Woolf, famous for A Room of One’s Own, kept diaries throughout her life. She used them to record ordinary days and untangle ideas. Her notebooks became workshops, places where thoughts could exist in imperfect form before maturing into literature.
Susan Sontag filled notebooks throughout her life with quotations, observations, and reflections. Rather than separating her reading from her writing, she treated her notebooks as conversations between books she loved and ideas that they awakened in her mind.
These writers remind us that a notebook need not be orderly to be valuable. It is enough for it to become a faithful companion to a curious life.
IV — Begin Before You Feel Ready
Every notebook begins with possibility.
Blank pages have an unfortunate reputation for being intimidating, but I have never found that to be true. To me, an empty notebook feels like an open door. It asks for nothing except that someone be curious enough to fill it.
Perhaps that means copying beloved passages from novels. It might mean keeping reading journals, drafting stories that’ll never be published, or musing upon the details of an ordinary Tuesday.
There is no correct way to keep a notebook. In a world occupied by algorithms and speed, handwritten pages remain unique acts of humanity. The ‘mistakes’—such as crossed-out sentences and coffee stains—bear marks of the people who made them.
Can they truly be mistakes, then?
I will continue buying notebooks, even when my shelves insist I have enough. A notebook is a promise to my future self that there are ideas worth chasing and words that deserve to be written by hand.
If that isn’t a good reason to buy another notebook, I don’t know what is.
Do you keep a notebook? I’d love to know what kind it is—a commonplace book, a reading journal, morning pages, or something entirely your own.
If this essay reminded you of someone who never seems to have enough notebooks, I’d be grateful if you shared it with them. It helps The Tearoom reach more readers who believe, as I do, that there is still something magical about putting pen to paper.
I have always had a notebook going, I just write notes in it. Quotes, phone numbers, lists, thoughts, ideas. The hodgepodge of my days. I also have an entire shelf of blank ones that I have picked up, so that I will never run out. They are not in exact order but I do date the top of every page. And I put my name and phone number in the front in case I lay it down somewhere. 😁
I have Travelers Notebooks, Field Notes and Moleskinnes, plus a few others. Currently using Paperblanks as I wanted more color. Right now, I just journal and carry a notebook for things like grocery lists.