My Strange Fantasy
Here’s the thing, I never told anyone this but I have a fantasy, a strange notebook fantasy. Most people know how much I love notebooks—particularly Moleskine, pronounce it Mole-SKEEN notebooks. These are the legendary notebooks used by Hemingway, Van Gogh, Bruce Chatwin and many, many other authors and artists. These trusty notebooks are the perfect reservoir for sketches and stories, snippets of thought and ideas. They tuck easily into a handbag or backpack or smaller ones slip in pockets. They’re soft and hearty and take inks well. My pen of choice these days is the Zebra Gel pens. Love the colors! They glide easily over the paper with a little bleed through but not as much as some other pens. I also paste images of things that interest me whether it’s a cross stitch pattern I want to stitch or sometimes even a new stitch I want to learn. I add scripture, sermon notes, quotes, bits of dialog, ideas for novels or characters. My notebooks hold my world. This year I bought six fresh Moleskines—three lined and three unlined. I pasted a picture of my mother in one, I’m not sure why, but I felt like I wanted to carry her with me this year. She’s getting older and has seemed a little shaky to me recently. So, I’ll carry her, just as I carried my children from time to time. Occasionally I feel inspired to write a poem—these go into the notebook.
I recently added a bit of an Emily Dickinson poem:
Faith – is the Pierless Bridge
Supporting what we see
Unto the scene that We do not—
Too slender for the eye.
My fantasy is that one day long after I’m gone someone will find my notebooks and read them trying to figure out who I was, why I wrote what I wrote, or gain new understanding into a novel or character. I have this whole storyline worked out that someone finds my notebooks and it somehow makes the news or the literary rounds that the notebooks of author Joyce Magnin were discovered. I don’t know. It sounds silly, I mean I’m not famous and don’t plan to be but still, the fantasy exists. I imagine the plumbed from the depth of my scattery notebooks will come a gem that will sparkle for years and years and years. I’m not an egomaniac by any stretch of the imagination but maybe, just maybe after all I’ve been through in life and all I will go through I might just have something to say that matters.
How about you? What’s in your notebook?