[Dug up from Drafts]

I know that I have written about this time and time again, but I feel that I must share my anxiety over starting a new notebook. Seriously, the thought of spoiling these beautiful ivory pages with my self-centred ramblings makes me feel sick.

But it’s not even about presentation, about making a spelling mistake or smudging the ink or getting the date wrong. The problem with new notebooks is that the empty pages hold so much potential, which is what makes writing that first word so daunting. This becomes even worse when you understand that I write in the famous black Moleskine notebooks. Yes, the “legendary notebook used by artists and thinkers over the past two centuries.” Wait, the same one used by van Gogh, Picasso and Hemingway? Yeah, that one… Now do you understand what I mean about the potential that blank pages hold?

When we face a blank page, all those great writers and artists, all that tradition, all the possibility of leaving a creative mark and making literary history weighs terribly on our tired shoulders. But no one’s ever going to read it if I never write it…


  1. I hate new notebooks (but I love the smell). I read somewhere that some ancient folks who made rugs deliberately made it imperfect to remind themselves that they are fallible creatures… Not sure if this is true but we are imperfect. So mess up that notebook.

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