I have too many notebooks to count. Some are filled in their entirety. Others have a page or two with jotted notes. Some have pages torn from their spine.
When it comes to notebooks, I am only consistent in my addiction to acquiring them. They are tchotchkes: quaint items on a shelf I admire from afar. When I make notes for works-in-progress, I most often do so at the keyboard. I admire the art of handwriting, but I revel in the speed of my fingers on keys.
I’m always interested in twists and tricks to help my creative process, so for 2014 I am setting a goal. Not a resolution, but a goal that should be within my reach.
I’ve selected a spiral-bound hardcover notebook that I have deemed The Couch Book. I will place this notebook in my usual comfort corner, where I end the day resting up, sipping coffee, and watching mindless television with my spouse. While I have an awful time trying to read (meaningfully) whilst the television is on, I have found it possible for me to make little notes: grocery lists, to-do lists, random bursts of phrasing that may prove useful in a wip.
My goal for the year is to use The Couch Book on a daily basis, with no set goal of time or line length, to write something other than lists. I’m curious to see what ideas come out of committing to writing in a notebook for one year. My hunch is that without direction, without intent, and without those rules we so often impose on our creative writing time, I may see some organic growth in the idea department.
This is nothing new. Lovely, well-versed, and well-published authors claim so often how the journaling process works wonders for them. It is not my intent to journal, but it is my intent to see what happens when you take a pen and notebook out of the working, must-be-creating mindset and into the comfort of the couch.