I love a handsome notebook. Often I go out and forget to take one with me and of course that means I’ll be clouted by an idea and have to nip into the newsagent to buy a new one. But it won’t be a nice one. It’ll be what you’d expect for 99p. So I use it once and it goes in the notebook drawer. With about forty or fifty other notebooks. I have nice notebooks too. Whenever I travel abroad, I have to buy a new notebook from the country I’m visiting. What I’m trying to say is that I have too many notebooks. I have enough blank pages to last me a lifetime of notes. And I fail, spectacularly, to restrict one notebook to one project. So by the time it comes to write up a particular project, I have to spend several decades flipping through pages in various notebooks to find relevant notes. I try to be organised. Really, I do. I have a filing cabinet with printed labels that say ‘Stationery’ and ‘Ideas’ and ‘Notebooks’ on the drawers. The ‘Notebooks’ drawer is full.
I’m not the only writer who does this, am I?