It could be said that you can never have too many blank journals ready to be written in but I suspect I would be an exception.
I can’t walk past a new journal – crisp untouched pages, a cute image on the front, inspiring messages scattered throughout, glitter on the cover. The blank pages call out to me wanting to be written on and I can’t refuse the call. Ideas already pop into my head demanding to be written, right then and there. It becomes almost like if I don’t buy the journal the ideas will abandon me and be lost forever. Not quite but the joy that sparks through me when looking at a new journal is delightful.
Standing there in the shop holding it in my hand it becomes a conduit for my creative writing. A new potential seeds in my mind and begins to take root and its like this new journal, still yet unopened, is the fertiliser, water, soil and sun all rolled into one and the perfect balance to help this idea grow and blossom. I want to do everything possible to nurture this idea so it reaches its full potential.
When writing it’s more than sitting down churning out the words, there is also fun and play as part of my process. Buying journals is just that, it’s my fun, its my play and it’s a magical time when my imagination can open new doors because I’m not actually looking for ideas or inspiration.
I use these journal to write poetry, to journal through my thoughts or events in life, to plan stories, to write first drafts but more importantly I use these journals to play with ideas, to try new story lines to have fun exploring what I might discover if I’ve set myself a writing exercise – to have fun with words.
This is what the journals provide for me and so I cherish them, even before I’ve written in them – right then those blank pages are reminding me of my potential and what I could do on their pages if I dare.
And so I buy another journal.