Return Of The Notebook.

A couple of years ago I started carrying a notebook with me. From time to time I'd write descriptions of things I saw, interactions between people, quotes, signs, and story ideas. I figured it might be a good resource to keep, a way to get my brain working creatively. For a while I kept it up to date. Sometimes I felt like I was forcing words onto the page, and I was concerned it might read as pretentious - an insincere effort to describe things that weren't as interesting as I'd imagined (or pretended) them to be.

And so it fell by the wayside. Occasionally I'd think of something I'd seen, reach for the book and write it down. But the entries were sporadic at best. Months would go by without any new words in there. And then, a few weeks ago, I picked up the notebook and read through it. And I enjoyed what I read.

While the notes are not intended to be shared, I needn't have worried about how they came across. I enjoyed them, they relit memories of events. I recalled forgotten incidents and moments. And best of all, I found a few story ideas congeal in my brain.

So I've started writing notes again. I don't keep it with me all the time - it's a little impractical, but I'm using it regularly and the notebook is filling up.

I have Numbers Two and Three all lined up and ready to go.