Yesterday, I wrote not one 10-minute write, but two free writes of I don’t know how much time, one in the morning, and one at the end of the day. For the first time in ages, I was excited to scatter thoughts on a page: not for a purpose, not for a blog post. Just to write for the sake of writing. I prioritized it over work, over reading, over to-do lists, cleaning, and chores.
And it’s all because of this journal.
I understand that aesthetics are important. In the the past, I have given my site a makeover when I felt uninspired about blogging. To actually want to open my laptop and write a post, I have to enjoy spending time on my site. I have to be pleased by the way the words and images look on my little online home. My space has to be pretty. It has to be a place I want to hang out.
Otherwise, I’ll stop going.
It didn’t occur to me the same would be true for pen and paper. A couple of years ago, I switched to 59¢ composition books. It was getting too expensive to fill fancy journals at the rate I was writing. I still wrote on paper afer the switch. No biggie. Except then I didn’t.
I’ve lost track of how long it’s been since I wrote in one of my supermarket composition books. I don’t even know where my active one is. On vacation I wrote in a Moleskine, but only because it was in my purse, and I didn’t feel like opening my laptop. It wasn’t because the Moleskine was calling me.
This journal, though. Yesterday morning, I couldn’t wait to get out of bed and make coffee so I could write on the pretty pages. At the end of the day, rather than taking work to our daughter’s guitar lessons, I took my new journal. I wrote again instead of picking work back up.
I wanted to spend time in the lovely leaves Bridget Collins created, spilling ink, and wondering with each turn of the page what botanical delight I’ll come across next.