I bought another notebook the other week.  I like notebooks, I have written about my liking of them before on here (I think it’s on this one anyway, go search for it). I must have loads of them at home, from various stages of my life, all full or half filled with stuff.

Why do I like notebooks? Probably because I like writing and have done for as long as I can remember. As a kid, you’d find me scribbling poems and stories in a cheap Woolworths notepad. Some of those stories would be left unfinished – OK, nearly all of them would be, but I enjoyed doing it.

These days, I still enjoy being able to empty my head of all the thoughts I am carrying onto paper. Even in this digital age with twitter and all that, I still prefer to jot my thoughts and ideas in a notebook. Whenever my brain is buzzing with an idea which won’t go away, it goes in the book. Granted, some of it will be nonsense, and some of it will have been written when I have been a bit emotional, but through all the ramble you could find something that is worthy of developing into something. In fact, a lot of my blog posts have come out of writing a paragraph in a page of one. I guess randomly writing stuff, reading it back later on and spotting stuff that could be developed is a technique that works for me. That said, there are times that I write stuff in a notebook or diary which I would rather not read ever again. Be glad none of that turns up on here or any other corner of the internet I lurk in.

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