A couple of weeks ago, a friend of mine gave me a pair of leather-bound notebooks.  “You’re a journal writer, right?”  I had to think about it for a second before offering a tentative “yes,” since I’m a journal writer more in concept than in practice.  I’m far more likely to watch a film or read a story about a journal writer than to actually sit down, crack open a new page, and put my pen to paper (or fingers to keypad, as it were) nowadays, such is the procrastination, lethargy, and outright dissipation that can dominate my existence.

But still, I accepted those notebooks, as if Continue reading “My notebook habit…” →