Skip to content

The writer’s notebook(s)

Alex Roddie
Alex Roddie
3 min read
Notebooks are about feel, mood, and introspection–not utility.

Before I begin this post celebrating notebooks, I have a confession to make: I hardly ever use them. I write historical fiction set in the 19th century and love the aesthetics of that era, but am also a self-confessed computer geek. This is something of a contradiction–one I have learned to live with.

I have previously blogged about technology for writers, and to read my previous posts on the subject you might be forgiven for thinking all of my writing is done digitally. The fact is that in the second decade of the 21st century nobody has any excuse to still be using paper for the majority of their writing; it’s inefficient, environmentally unfriendly, generates waste, and requires physical storage space. Filing and indexing is time-consuming (and if you try not to bother, you will never be able to find anything you write down). Writing by hand is slow and editing is difficult. For these reasons, the bulk of my writing is done by computer in various forms; this includes note taking, research, and drafting.

And yet …

There’s something about physical notebooks that cannot help but touch the soul of a writer. A computer is efficient and can do a dozen things at once, but let me turn that around: a notebook has value precisely because it is inefficient and can only single-task.

When you write in a notebook, you are focusing on a single thing at one time. There are no distractions fighting for your attention. You are consumed with the task of composing words into sentences using the age-old instrument of a pen or a pencil: a process which is slow and primitive compared to typing, but sometimes what we need is to slow down and focus for things to snap into place. Twitter, Facebook, and all the other powerful tools of a modern writer’s existence are temporarily obliterated. It is the ultimate minimalism in writing.

This brings me to the second benefit of notebooks: tactility. A writer’s notebook is far more personal than a .TXT file containing your thoughts, stored somewhere in a computer’s memory. Handwriting itself conveys personality and mood, and in a notebook one is free to doodle, draw, and map out ideas. They become a tangible connection between our moods and thoughts at some point in the past, and the point at which we are reading this information. A data file cannot do this.

Notes taken in 2010 during my trip to Grindelwald. Left is a sketch for the 1897 Eckenstein ice claw; right are some of my initial ideas for a future novel.

How do I use notebooks? I use pocket Moleskine journals whenever I travel for research purposes. These books are tiny and very resilient; I currently have a collection of 12 which document every research trip I’ve made over the last five years. They chronicle my investigations in the streets of Zermatt and Evolene, the peaks of the Alps, and the valleys of the Lake District. When I read their pages–which are often smudged by rain or dog-eared by travel in a rucksack–the tactile nature of this recording medium takes me back to the place in question more surely than any digital file could.

Notes from a trip to Wasdale Head. +1 for anyone who gets the significance of this page in the context of The Only Genuine Jones.

I also keep a large ‘project sketchbook’ for important drawings and plans. In this book I draw maps, family trees, designs for equipment in the fictional Jones universe, and anything else that requires a larger canvas.

Do you still use notebooks? How do you use them, and how do they integrate with your digital methods of writing? I’d be interested to hear any views!

Notesartresearch

Alex Roddie

Happiest on a mountain. Writer, story-wrangler, digital and film photographer. Editor of Sidetracked magazine (I make the words come out good).

Comments


Related Posts

Members Public

'Embracing constraints taught me to love them'

Tip of the hat to The Cramped, one of my favourite blogs, which pointed me in the direction of this fascinating piece: 'A tale from “ye olden days” of graphic design that taught me to love and embrace constraints'. This post from Mike Rohde is a look back

'Embracing constraints taught me to love them'
Members Public

Highs and lows from a winter of outdoor gear testing: spooky summit camps, exploding stoves, and more

Now that a long winter here in Scotland has finally come to an end, it's time for me to look back on the highlights of my season. Regular readers will know that I have been on the team at The Great Outdoors testing and reviewing equipment for some

Highs and lows from a winter of outdoor gear testing: spooky summit camps, exploding stoves, and more
Members Public

Seek the mayglow while you can, for it is fleeting

May has long been one of my favourite months of the year, but it's not all about Scottish Alpine spring, as you might expect from a mountaineer based in Scotland. One of the things I have learnt about myself is that I need more from nature than mountains.

Seek the mayglow while you can, for it is fleeting

Mastodon