one year ago i typed the first pages of my book. since then, my story has shattered, shifted, sprung, sizzled, strengthened more than i can articulate. my book told me that she desires to be written – handWRITTEN. i saw this moleskine and immediately knew this was IT.
… and yet, i hesitated. $70? really, for a notebook!? i already have so many already. i shouldn’t be wasteful, i should finish those other ones first. and it’s less pages than a regular moleskine? it’s too pretty, i’m just going to bang it up and ruin it on my travels. it’s just going to get dirty. wait, why do i even want to do this, this just means an extra step and more time later trying to decipher my handwriting and type it all into google docs. if i really believe in my message, shouldn’t i want my words to be out in the world ASAP? this is so inefficient. this is completely illogical!!!
… hold up, this company provided velvet for the duke’s costumes!? mmkay mmkay i see you! hmm that does make me feel better about buying this…
… ya know what, niki. logic is not my highest value. $70? worth it. people like me do things like this. i am worth everything.
i run my hands over the fabric. soft and smooth in one direction, rough and textured in the other. intoxicating, yet nourishing. my eyes feast on the deep color, the shimmering contrast. the fabric seems to glow from within. the craftsmanship feels ancient, yet timeless. the mesmerizing pattern draws me in, invites me to open this empty and full treasure chest. i run my fingers through the thick, fresh, ivory pages. i can smell the words that will be birthed here. i salivate, already tasting the juicy paths we will traverse together. they are begging me to play with them. i happily surrender and melt into their firm embrace. ah, yes. the first insight comes piercing through like electricity – this is exactly how i want my readers to feel. of course i had to experience it through my own body first. let it land, sink in, soak my cells. this is exactly who, where, and how i desire to be.
i am writing my story; my story is writing me.