I have a habit of notebooks. In the morning I take my coffee to the studio and write a couple of pages.The pages might be full of to-do lists or complaints or stories. When I am working on the solstice project I tell myself to write drafts for each day's post but no matter how hard I try what I write by hand is not what gets typed on the blog. Word has it that Jack Kerouac wrote his book On the Road in three weeks. He typed furiously on a scroll of paper with no stops and starts. His words piled up like rocks in a stonewall with no paragraphs or page breaks. I am also told that he had the habit of notebooks where he collected stories and his personal experiences. I imagine that his writing of what is thought of as supreme improvisation might have begun in bits and pieces in small cups of practice.
I think of personal notebooks as collections of rocks or pebbles that we put in our pockets. They roll around for awhile in the dark and sometimes we get the rocks out and study them with our coffee and other times they stay tucked in amongst the pages until they are ready to be poured out in a new organization.
"We are cups, constantly and quietly being filled. The trick is knowing how to tip ourselves over and let the beautiful stuff out."
- Ray Bradbury, Zen in the Art of Writing