New Notebooks Are Scary

I found an old notebook in my studio today. It was completely new, and I don’t remember buying it.

I do this all the time.

I buy a new notebook thinking I’m about to start a new chapter. It could be a business idea, a concept, a product, maybe even a novel. The notebook feels full of promise in that moment. “This could be the one.”

And then I leave it blank.

Or I create a neat title page. Maybe I doodle on a few pages, write a heading, play with a new pen. After that, it goes back on the shelf. I have loads of notebooks like this — half-started, carefully untouched.

When I found this one today, tucked into the back recesses of a shelf crowded with art books, notebooks, and supplies, I chuckled to myself. It is funny to brush up against my own silly propensities. The optimism of buying something for a future me. Then something comes along and takes over my attention and I end up forgetting it even exists.

New notebooks are scary. They’re loaded with great possibilities and they’re begging to be filled. But as soon I make a mark that’s it. The possibility is limited and will never reach whatever expectation’s in my head.  That’s why I only make it two or three pages.

Starting means choosing. And choosing means letting a lot of other possibilities go. That’s uncomfortable. But it’s also the only way anything real ever gets made.

Creativity doesn’t need to lead to perfection. It doesn’t need to become a masterpiece, a business, or a finished project. It’s also ok to start something and let it go.

Maybe that’s all any of us really need — permission to begin badly, and see where it leads.

And it’s a new year coming up soon. What a perfect time to make a mark in a new notebook.