Not neatly numbered, but numbered, and clear enough to read off the shelf: I filled the first notebook of the year last night. These are Moleskines, the spines marked with a Pentel white pen. They get stuffed with notes, notions, outlines, journalling, photos and printed matter pasted on to the pages with Pritt Stick or Scotch adhesive dots. They all get stacked on a shelf in the office for easy access, and each of them has an index in the front of the most important things within, and a note of the months the notebook spans.
WARREN ELLIS LTD Articles.
Note to self – trim the twisted hazel next month!
Entering the last lap of the year – firing off emails that will doubtless be ignored until January 2, summoning up the energy to finish two last rounds of rewrites, and then downing tools and starting our complicated Xmas prep (which involves preparing two different meals at two different locations a hundred miles apart). Dreading the final Xmas food shopping trip, which looks like it will fall on a Saturday, which is the worst possible day for it. Old ladies are already up all night sharpening their elbows in preparation for the supermarket crush.
Apologies to the good people of NORTHERN EARTH, but this is what happens when I find a fine bit in their excellent magazine that I want to save and think on.
Screener season continues. I have already gotten several others, that are probably scattered across the house by now, but this one just arrived. Starting a “screeners” tag so that I can log them when I collect them all up. (Amazon just sent a bunch of codes this year, which is probably smart, but I kind of miss their old elaborate screener boxes.)
Inbox is at 107.
The new printer likes to be switched on all the time, so it can report on me to its masters. Yesterday evening, I had a thought. The phone is also connected to the new printer. So I hunted down a collage app on the phone, set an A4 size, guessed at some borders, assembled four photos and sent them from my phone in the living room to the printer upstairs in the office. And promptly forgot about it. Before bed, I went into the office to take my watch off and there was one page in the printer containing four photos perfectly sized for notebook pages. Cut up and pasted in now.
This is under the heading of “phone as tool.” This new printer will also arrange for me to be sent ink as I need it, so I should never run out again. I’m sure anyone else reading this is wondering why I am so pleased with this, unless they too have been known to fill six notebooks in a year and they too are so terminally frazzled that they know full well they forget stuff all the time.
I only want to be using my phone as a tool. It’s a lethal distraction device, as everybody knows, and I’d rather it was a Swiss Army knife.
Going into my Kindle collections, I see that I have started a lot of books this year, but have finished maybe 20. That’s terrible. Plans for 2024.
I always start a brand new notebook on January 1, regardless of whether or not I’ve filled the last one. Previous ones get dated and numbered on their spines with a Pentel Micro Correct white pen and put on the shelf.
Very wasteful, sometimes. I doubt I’m going to fill the one on the left before the end of the year. (Although, with a non-cranky printer, I can go back to printing things out to paste in it.) I’ve been working on projects that get broken out into separate, dedicated notebooks. But I like to start the year with a clean book. Sometimes I’ll even give up on one notebook and start a fresh one on July 1, just because I feel stale and congested and need a fresh start.
And now I look at my shelf – where the hell is notebook 2022-1? Did I take it out to refer to previous notes and forget? That’s why they’re up on the shelf – I refer to old notes all the time, and each notebook has a numbered index on the front page. Otherwise, all the ideas would get lost. Of course, an entire notebook getting lost doesn’t help….!
Tools: Pilot G-2 07 black pen, Scotch permanent adhesive dots, Pritt stick, Instax mini printer, HP Envy printer. Kindle Highlights lets me save useful bits of books I’m reading: I can access them from the web and copy them over to print off.
(I still have a Canon Selphy, but my partner took over its use.)
(Edith) Wharton always kept a donnée book (a French word meaning the nascent elements of a story) in which she recorded the plot outlines, little one-liners, social critiques, and clever analogies that would someday be used in one of her books.
Process: The Writing Lives of Great Authors, Sarah Stodola (shop)
Manuscript notebook with names of characters, pieces of dialogue; excerpts of what would become The House of Mirth.
The Polish poet Zbigniew Herbert had this to say: “To reach the source, you have to swim against the current. Only trash swims downstream.” Lines like these can really buck up your spirits!
Haruki Murakami’s NOVELIST AS A VOCATION is a series of essays on the art and work of novel-writing, with fairly broad application to most forms of writing. Sometimes he’ll go hard in on the novelistic form itself, sometimes he will widen out to the general experiences of a writer. It seems to me that you don’t require specific knowledge of his own work – my own reading of him is somewhat patchy – to get along with this amiable work. For instance, on being permanently consigned to the hole of the bad review in his own country:
In those days, if I had leapt into a pond to save an old woman from drowning, the critics—and I mean this only half-jokingly—would have found something to carp about. “A mere publicity stunt,” they would have scoffed. “Surely she could have swum to shore.”
I always, always tell people to avoid reading reviews, precisely because this is how they get into your head.
Something I found interesting was the tale of how he found his style:
…as an experiment, I decided to write the opening of my novel in English. What the hell, I figured. If I was going to do something unorthodox, why not go all the way?
Needless to say, my ability in English composition didn’t amount to much. My vocabulary was severely limited, as was my command of English syntax. I could only write in short, simple sentences. Which meant that, however complex and numerous the thoughts running around in my head, I couldn’t even attempt to set them down as they came to me. The language had to be simple, my ideas expressed in an easy-to-understand way, the descriptions stripped of all extraneous fat, the form made compact, and everything arranged to fit a container of limited size. The result was a rough, uncultivated kind of prose. As I struggled to express myself in that fashion, however, a distinctive rhythm began to take shape.
It also led me to the realization that I could express my thoughts and feelings with a limited set of words and grammatical structures, as long as I combined them effectively and linked them together in a skillful manner.
What I was seeking by writing first in English and then “translating” into Japanese was no less than the creation of an unadorned “neutral” style that would allow me freer movement.
Writing in my new style felt more like performing music than composing literature, a feeling that stays with me today.
This is, in essence, how Beckett found his style: writing in French and translating back to English, to escape the supernatural weight of Joyce’s shadow.
Also, like Stephen King, he’s not a notebook keeper, and trusts to his memory to retain those ideas that are truly good and important. I remind you: you and I are neither Stephen King nor Haruki Murakami, so keep your notebook. The piece herein on how he arranges something of a mind palace – but it actually looks more to him like the filing cabinets in Soderbergh’s Kafka film – is a lot of fun, too.
Good book for writers and creatively-minded people of all kinds, from an author who thinks deeply and clearly about art and work.
NOVELIST AS A VOCATION, Haruki Murakami (shop)
Between 1989 and 2004, Walid Raad developed a collection of both found and fabricated materials—documents, notebooks, photographs, news clippings, interview transcripts, and videos—related to the Lebanese Civil War (1975–91). His archival displays, presented under the guise of an imaginary foundation named “The Atlas Group,” blend fact and fiction to deconstruct the truth claims of documentary media, and bespeak distrust of official narratives, while also exploring the links between history, memory, trauma, and fantasy.
Some deep nerding on the perfect notebook box. I have my used notebooks shoved into a couple of go-bags.
I see my creative process as a two-part thing: there’s the idea and the actual creation process itself. My habit is to always keep “ideas” in stock. I have a notebook (music notation paper) that I carry with me all the time and there’s also a folder on my PC with snippets of audio. So I try to keep a log of “ideas” to be used as a spark for a creative process. Sometimes using an idea that’s 15+ years old (and I can’t quite recall where that came from) takes me to unexpected places. I guess this habit made me avoid the “Blank Page Syndrome” for ages…
Being an author really means running a small business and there can be a lot to keep track of. I have, in the past, used one notebook to track all my writerly business, but they fill up fast when you’re keeping busy. Enter a big set of seven lovely notebooks…
Most of my notebooks are pocket size journals and sketchbooks. I tend to go through them fairly fast, and I’m not that hard on them. They get broken-in but they stay in pretty good shape. I’ve had a few notebooks where the spine tore apart– my first Moleskine softcover, and a Markings/CR Gibson notebook come to mind (photo in this post). But nothing has gotten as abused as this Picadilly notebook that I’ve been using for cooking notes!