Like a lot of writers, I have a lot of notebooks. In fact, doing a very quick count, I can see that there are nine “in use” notebooks on and around my desk as I sit typing. A further six, already full or otherwise “retired” notebooks are also in view and, if I started looking harder, I’m positive that we’d soon get into the twenties and probably the thirties all too easily. That’s genuinely a bit of a surprise now I come to think about it and write it down. Maybe I actually have more notebooks than most writers.
All notebooks are not created equal, of course. All of the retired/abandoned notebooks I have here are A4, ring-bound, lined ones from the supermarket or W H Smiths. They’re useful, but they’re also cheap and disposable (although, apparently I never actually get around to disposing of them). For me, these kinds of books are mostly filled with the thumbnail page sketches Leah and I script our comics from. Yes, there are notes in there, but mostly those relate specifically to the story or series which has been roughed out across that book’s pages. We fill up a lot less of these than we used to because, if I’m writing comics solo, then I tend to use the Supernote instead of paper and pen now.
One of the “in use” notebooks I have here, to my left, is exactly that aforementioned species of ring-bound supermarket A4 book. It’s the book Leah and myself are currently using to plot and thumbnail out our Queens of the Lost World series. The other eight… well, some of those have been “in use” for more than a decade.
These are the smaller notebooks. Some are A5, but mostly they’re some variant of pocket notebook. Many are battered and frayed, stained with tea or coffee, their covers spattered with ink, some of their pages containing doodles our children did in their infancy. Some literally cost a pound or two, others considerably more. These are idea books. Portable notebooks which I have carried around in my backpack or coat pocket over years of bike rides, walks, trips to the park, journeys on the bus or train, mornings spent in stay-and-play groups, and so on. They’re the little notebooks which I rush in from the other room to grab if I hear something on the radio which makes me think “I need to write that down“. In fact, my current go-to “in use” book (which is “in use” notebook number ten, if we’re keeping count) lives on my bedside table, rather than my desk. I had to run up and grab it to make an urgent note last night, and I flicked back to the previous page after I’d done so. There was a really good idea there which, even though I had written it down very recently, I had completely forgotten about. And that’s the whole point, isn’t it?
I am not a well-organised person, and I never have been. I do not keep a diary or do journaling. Although that book on my bedside table is my current go-to “I need to write that down” notebook, the likelihood of me grabbing any of the other “in use” books to make a crucial do-not-forget-this note is still very high. A page written in 2007 might have a note on its back from 2018, only for the facing page to be filled with a To-Do list for Christmas 2009. They’re not organised. They’re not in any order. It’s chaotic, I know. I’m sorry. What they are though, is useful. Really useful. In fact, I’d argue that they’re vital. Essential.
Since I started writing these reviews back in 2020, I’ve been lucky enough to be sent a handful of really nice notebooks.
Back in 2021, I got a lovely little A6 Dotgrid.co notebook. Black pages with a 4.25mm white dot grid matrix, and a white Uni-ball gel pen to go with. Like writing in negative, it’s incredibly aesthetically pleasing, but it’s not really the kind of book you make quick, random notes in.
Around the same time, I got a couple of Dingbats* notebooks: an A5+ Wildlife dot grid notebook for myself, and a plain paper Pro B5 notebook for Leah. That lovely A5+ with the stag on the front is the book I still use for my monthly to-do lists, and Leah’s B5 is now almost completely filled with her watercolours and sketches.
In 2022, Great Fountain Italy sent me one of their little 52-page, 89 x 140 mm pocket notebooks. Designed for use with a fountain pen (I do have one of those, too), I am ashamed to admit that I have never actually got around to writing in it, despite the fact that it looks and feels delightful.
Even though I’ve been lucky enough to get hold of all these lovely notebooks, I’ve never really properly reviewed any of them (apologies, especially to Great Fountain Italy). To be honest, I’m not exactly sure how to review a notebook. I am, however, going to give it a go, because last week Gloaming Notebooks sent me my new go-to pocket notebook.
I first became aware of Gloaming Notebooks via their Instagram account earlier this year. Two things immediately caught my attention. First was the use of the word gloaming, which is a fantastic and much-underused word.
Originally used in Scottish dialects of English, the word traces back to the Old English glōm, meaning “twilight,” which shares an ancestor with the Old English glōwan, meaning “to glow.” In the early 1800s, English speakers looked to Scotland again and borrowed the now-archaic verb gloam, meaning “to become dusk” or “to grow dark.”
The second was toadstools. I love mushrooms and toadstools and fungus, and one of the first posts I saw from Gloaming Notebooks was an image of one of their Adolphe Millot Champignons pocket notebooks.
I saw that and immediately felt like this was a product aimed specifically at me. Then I read that Gloaming were also offering custom hand-stamped cover lettering. So, I got in touch with Charles Turner, the artist and environmentalist behind Gloaming Notebooks.
Charles started first with the Original Pocket Notebook out of need for something traditional and durable. Something he could take outside with him to press flowers, do some gardening and take notes on the beach. A book that could endure the elements and protect the inside pages, but would also age beautifully, showcasing the covers’ bumps and scratches with pride.
https://gloamingnotebooks.com/about
Several elements of Gloaming Notebooks’ handmade books are customisable. There are four different book cloths and four headband colours, and six different endpaper artworks to choose from. Custom, hand-stamped gold letters can spell out the word, name, initials, or short message of your choosing (I decided on “Write it down”). You can even choose to have your own image inlaid into your notebook cover.
I went for the Original Pocket Notebook, Mushroom, in Sage Green with plain pages (you can choose from plain, lined, dotted, 2mm squared, and 4mm squared).
The book is 168 Pages, and the paper is 80GSM Rey Adagio Ivory paper.
My notebook arrived on a snowy Thursday afternoon, so I took advantage of the bright sunny weather and took a few pictures in the back garden.
So far, I’ve only filled a couple of pages in my new notebook, using nothing fancier than a black United Office gel pen – the kind you buy in the supermarket in a pack of seven for £3.99, or thereabouts. I haven’t yet tried it out with my Estie fountain pen, but that’s mostly because that’s currently tucked into the band of the A5 notebook on my bedside table. The black gel ink doesn’t show through or bleed through the page. There’s no smudging or feathering of the ink. The paper isn’t shiny or overly smooth, it’s about three times as thick as bog-standard notepad paper, and feels like it would be equally great for writing or sketching in pencil in, or even for doing watercolours in.
As it’s a hardcover, pocket notebook, this is going to be my designated take-everywhere book for the foreseeable future. It’s going to be zipped in the front of my trusty Ikea FÖRENKLA backpack, or else in my coat pocket, every time I leave the house. It doesn’t matter what pen I use, what order I fill the pages in, whether I don’t write anything in it for weeks, or even months. The important thing is that, when I need to make a note, it’s there. Sometimes, you just have to write it down.