All the Possibilities…

I’ve always had this strange love-thing for blank notebooks. Every time I touched one it gave me such a thrill. I remember buying them all the time just because they were new, crisp and white. Unblemished. I loved flicking through the pages, seeing the blur of pure sheets, the smell of the paper as it fanned my face. I kept neat stacks of them in my drawer, just waiting to be used.

It was always my intention to fill them with beautiful words. I relished the thought of what would one day inhabit those blank pages. To me, the pages represented promise of the great things I would write. But I rarely used them, preferring to hold onto the dream, that sense of knowing one day I’ll fill them. So I left them blank and just admired the smooth, untouched paper.

I have finally broken

free of that. I enjoy the best of both worlds now. For those minutes before I begin to write in them I let myself revel in its brand new state.

And then I dive in, savouring each second that I tear through it with ink.

I don’t like to write my stories at the computer so I scrawl it all into a notebook first. There’s something about sitting in front of the screen, keys under fingertips, that I find intimidating. Like I have to write nonstop. The computer is on! Write Mel! WRITE!! Crazy, I know. But that’s just how I roll.

Now I get to see the aftermath of an exquisitely destroyed notebook. I have many that are brimming with scribbles and sections crossed out. Underlines and asterisks. Neat writing and messy writing. 2am writing. I’m-so-tired-this-isn’t-making-any-sense writing. It’s all there in my little collection.

After all my years of hanging onto those blank notebooks, I find that it’s the used and abused ones I love infinitely more. I want to keep them and cherish them forever. I want to hold onto that page where Xavier Dean first appears in the story. I want to remember that night my heart turned to mush during that one, sweet scene. I want to run my finger over the impression my pen made when I wrote that final sentence.

One thing’s for sure – I’ll never leave another notebook blank. It’s abandon that allows you to accomplish your dreams.