If you missed me sharing photo of some of my old journals, and introducing the idea of #notesfromthenotebook then you can hop back a post here. Basically I've been trawling through my old books and plucking out the occasional scribble I think might be worth a second look
My first delve into my archive has resulted in the following snippet from 11 years ago, a snippet which is almost painfully packed with frustration.
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20th June 2006
I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel that there is a stockroom full of work hiding away inside me – and I just can’t get it out.
There are collages, cards, novels, poems – creations, stuffed inside me.
I can feel the edges of canvasses digging between my ribs; I’m being paper-cut from the inside; there are rolled up pieces of paper climbing their way up my throat and unfurling in my head, drying out my brain.
I can feel the edges of canvasses digging between my ribs; I’m being paper-cut from the inside; there are rolled up pieces of paper climbing their way up my throat and unfurling in my head, drying out my brain.
I have ideas queuing up to taunt and laugh and poke at me.
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I actually found a photo of me from June 2006, the same month in which I wrote this piece. Here I am - fortunately looking more relaxed - while paddling in the Cornish sea.
This was a time in my life where I was clearly hunting around for a creative outlet:
- I was unemployed having been made redundant.
- It would be one year until my work (a scrapbook page) would be published in a magazine for the first time (when a message from Shimelle Laine, who at the time worked for Scrapbook Inspirations magazine, pretty much set everything in motion!)
- It would be two years until I'd meet my long-time friend and collaborator Kirsty Neale, and about the same amount of time until I'd first visit my local crop where I'd meet the crafty friends I still have today..
- And two years until I'd start a blog ... where my love of writing would finally find a regular expressive outlet.
- It would also be 10 years until I'd publish my first book and decide to start writing a novel.
I'd like to tell that Julie from a decade ago that she'll spend the next decade sorting out all that paper she felt she had trapped inside her. Tell her to enjoy the unfurling, to write it all down, and not to worry too much ... because it all turns out OK in the end.
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If you'd like to share anything from your own notebook archive, please feel free ... I loved hearing from you in the comments on my last post.
There are so many stories out there worth dusting off and sharing with friends.
Julie x
You can find me here any time:
#juliesnotesfromthenotebook *** #notesfromthenotebook
Posts
your words very clearly show your angst to grow into the artist you are today! i love the line - "There are collages, cards, novels, poems – creations, stuffed inside me" It perfectly describes a feeling that many of us have!! great post, very inspiring!!
ReplyDeleteIt really has turned out just fine..but with any luck for all of us who love to read what you write, there is no end in sight :)
ReplyDeleteEven if Julie from the future had told Julie in 2006 that there was no point worrying, in fact she'd end up sharing her wonderful style of writing with loads of loyal blog readers and would actually publish a book - she wouldn't have believed her!
ReplyDeleteIn 2006 my only creative outlet was being a volunteer helper at my son's primary school and being left in charge of anything messy that the teacher didn't want to get involved in. Remind me one day to tell you about the girl who panicked with the hot wax from the batik work we were doing and poured the whole lot into the palm of my hand! or the time they left me with 15 kids and 15 hot glue guns to make a model village ... I still have the scars ... Health & Safety? What health and safety?
What a gorgeous piece of writing, Julie! Oh, and aren't we glad that you kept going ... I'm intrigued to read that you've started a novel. Who knows where you'll be in another ten years?
ReplyDeleteMy notebooks are the same as my photographs, mostly done at 40mph because I know I won't remember to look up whatever it is we are talking about as we travel. Either that or I have jotted down something Miss Boo has said. I pulled an old notebook out of the drawer and in it was a note of something Miss Boo said in 2012 when she was seven. Mr M said "oh, Boo, buy me that house" "No Grandpa", she replied "When I grow up I am going to buy my own house and you can buy your own house Mr-I-am-not-moving-house-EVER".
ReplyDeleteIt made us laugh because we couldn't think of a single time when Mr M had said he wasn't going to move, but she was absolutely right he is never going to move
I'm in that place right now. With all sorts of ideas and plans all bubbling up and fighting for attention. There's so much going on in my head I feel like a bottle of inspiration being tossed on the waves. I have started and stopped and started again... I don't know what I am doing and I'm scared, confused and enthused all in one package.
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