You're tops: The Moleskine Notebook

I'm not sure what I did before Moleskines. I think I used some boofy A4 spiral notepads (not the Spirex variety that Karyn Ash has a penchant for) that some paper companies had given me.

My writing life changed quite radically in 2002. I discovered the humble Moleskine notebook lurking in a store in King Street, Perth. Since then I've written and designed my way through a tower of these marvels of simplicity.

The Moleskine (pronounced with an Italian tongue, mola-skina) carries on in the tradition of the legendary leather-bound notebooks of intellectuals and artists such as Van Gogh, Matisse and Hemingway. For these giants, the notebooks carried the sketches, thoughts and musings of their day. They briefly disappeared after centuries of production in 1986 but re-appeared following the outcry of one man: Bruce Chatwin. Bruce got the ball rolling once more and we're the beneficiaries of his passion.

There's nothing remarkable about the Moleskine other than its elegant simplicity. A rigid black moleskine cover, an elastic closure and thread binding. Either blank, lined or squared and two sizes: pocket and large. While a lithe 80-page cashiers-style journal exists, the classic variety is the hard-covered, 240-page icon.

And that's about it. Except that there's something alluring about these babies. A call to write, design, plan or ponder that still calls me.

From the first one I purchased I realised that there was some heritage to live up to. There was something about the first moments of taking it from a 'book in a bag' to 'my journal' that gave it gravity. Since then, mine have all begun in exactly the same fashion: name, phone, reward.

Along the way there's been some different starts and false starts. Journal Numero Uno began a little something like this:

This is a creative writing space. No daily journalling—no matter how succinct, inspirational or piquant—should ever find its way into here. Unless of course, its creativity and craftedness renders it a necessary addition. It may contain some 'occasional thoughts'. After all, a premise such as this should be liberating, not stifling. One more challenge: use this space wisely. Stretch your writing, expand your thinking, hone your craft. Make it a place of depth and length and breadth. And take it a little further than before.

Yep, it's fair to say I'm prone to a little hyperbole when let of the leash...

A new journal in 2003 begins with this inscription:

These are the thoughts and musings of a man with an eternal destination made possible through the inexplicable grace and mercy of the Lord Jesus. A man who will, on that glorious day, be presented faultless, spotless and without guilt or shame before His presence with exceeding joy.

And so it goes...

These days I don't attempt the profound opening inscription but usually begin with a fresh 'prime' journal reflecting the 'word of the year' and the year ahead (usually the same thing). My 2007 word is 'spacious' so the first entry in this year's journal articulates what it means to have a spacious year/be spacious/embrace spaciousness/extend boundaries. 2006 was robust, 2005 - gidiup!, 2004 - fresh, 2003 - simplicity, 2002 - revel, 2001 - also. 2000? No idea - I was probably surprised we got past midnight.

I have about six on the go at the moment (I dealt with the narrow usage specifications a little while back):

1. My basic writing and devotional journal (240pp, black)
2. A journal for lectures, sermon notes, cell-group prep. and BusinessLife notes (240, black)
3. Slimline version #1: For my weekly songlists for leading worship at Riverview (80pp, kraft)
4. Slimline version #2: Household budgeting and financial planning (80pp, kraft)
5. Slimline version #3: Globe work gear: meetings/budgets/goals and stuff
6. My 2007 Moleskine Diary

I'm pretty sure that I've boarded the M-train.

There's something sensorily-stimulating about running your fingers over the handwritten text contained within a Moleskine. I limit myself to using a ball-point for any writing so that I can embrace the pleasure.

I'm not alone in my veneration of the little black book either. Blogs pay homage. And, just recently, an exhibition in London featured the artistic works contained within 72 different Moleskines.



Moleskines don't scream from the mountaintops. Nor are they hungry to consume space. They're understated, simple, functional, reluctant heroes capable of being home to the profound, the mundane, the trivial and the memorable. Beware of using the Moleskine... decisions can be made, books written, ideas hatched, dreams incubated and desires nourished that may result in radical life-change. Deeper intimacy with God, greater clarity of purpose, a financial plan, a better way, increased courage and, perhaps, more succinct expression. I'm still working on that last one.

Come to think of it. If it does half of those things, don't beware—just go out and buy one. Tell your story.