Angela Stockman: Space for the Busyness

Thinking about sharing my love of notebooks here, I began to panic just a little.

I’m not sure I have a notebook, I thought to myself, remembering all of the gorgeous notebooks I've become acquainted with on this blog. I don’t have anything worthwhile to share.

I’ll bet I’m not the only writing teacher who feels this way about her writing life.

Things are so busy, and at first I assumed that I was yet another victim: a writing teacher who sacrifices her own writing life to the work that must be done for others each day. Notebooks? Who has time for notebooks?

Well, as it turns out, I do. In fact, I always have. Notebooks are such an integral part of my life that I just wasn't noticing them anymore. Not until now.

When I was young, I made diaries out of folded sheets of construction paper. When we didn't have any, I would sneak a pile of lined paper home from my desk at school. I've kept them in a box in my closet all of these years. My face burns when I read them, but I can’t bear to toss them out. These were my first notebooks, after all.

My diaries had boundaries. I wrote in these books every day then, mostly about the boys I “loved”, the pets that I had, the friends I was arguing with, and why I “hated” my parents on that particular day. I was fourteen then. These were the topics that mattered to me. Writing “bed to bed” stories that captured every mundane detail of my life helped me survive it, in a way. This is how writing nurtured me then.

As I grew older, I kept writing. I also began working, and every once in a while, I would splurge on a new, beautiful notebook. This is the one I was keeping when I met my husband, John. Sometimes, I revisit it when I’m writing him a present. Those memories fuel that kind of writing for me, even now. They are artifacts of some of the most important days of my life. 

And here’s something interesting I've noticed: as I grew older, the notebooks and even many of the entries become less boundaried. My daily writing opened up to make space for the busyness of my life, and I’m still capturing much of it in words, even though it’s often for very different purposes. 

I noticed this first in the notebook above. The back cover features a scribbled set of directions. I used this page to jot down the route to John’s first apartment…the very first time he shared it with me over the phone. At the time, I needed something to write on, and I know this was sitting on my dresser, next to the phone I was speaking into (which had a cord, thank you very much). I grabbed it and wrote quickly. This was the first time the minutia of my daily life wandered into my notebook. It wasn't the last time, though. 

I used to feel guilty about this. Now I’m realizing that I’m glad for that. 

Today, I always have a notebook with me, but it isn't as contained as it looks. This is the one I’m keeping right now:

I’ve become pickier about the features I desire. For instance, my favorite notebooks are exactly this size. They have a ribbon glued into the spine, so that I can find my place easily. They have a pocket at the back, where I can shove important notes, documents, trinkets, and cards. Things I want to remember. Things I don’t want to forget. I always write in blue pen or with a fine point Sharpie marker.

I use my notebook to contain my ideas. I also use it plan. I keep track of my to-do lists right beside the draft of a blog post I’m writing and lessons I’m planning for the writers I teach. And I always maintain a running list of personal writing territories at the very back of each book. You’ll find a list of fun things I want to do with my kids back there too. And movies I want to see. And books I want to read. Cookies I need to bake. Plants I need to find for my garden.

As my life becomes busier and messier, my notebooks have too. They've also become the central hub for all of my thinking, planning, and work—personal and professional. 

“I’m surprised you don’t keep all of that on your phone,” a school administrator commented earlier this year.

“Oh no,” I smiled. “I can’t. There’s something about writing with a pen that helps me brainstorm and plan better.” I need to be able to move words around. This is probably why my grown-up notebooks are littered with Post-Its. 

I do use my phone for something else though: to take pictures of things I don’t want to forget. My photo stream has become a mighty source for writing ideas and inspiration over the years. Anne Lamott brilliantly advises writers to tuck index cards into their pockets. I used to do this. Now I point and shoot. 

My photo files are a different kind of notebook. And my life is a very different kind of life now, too. I wonder how my changing life will influence the shape of my notebooks over time. I wonder how my notebooks will continue to support the changing shape of my life.


Angela Stockman found her home inside of a classroom twenty years ago. In many ways, she never left. Each day, she travels to schools throughout Western New York and works beside teachers who are discovering how to help kids fall in love with words. In April of 2008, Angela founded the WNY Young Writers' Studio, a community comprised of children and teachers who are learning how to use their words to make a difference in the world. 

Angela has generously offered to send a copy of Gail Carson Levine's WRITING MAGIC, an inspiring book about writing, to a reader of this post.  Please leave a comment and a way to reach you, and check back on Sunday, March 24 to see if you have won!

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