100% of my living I made online by punching on a keyboard so uniform characters can appear in various little content managers all over the world. It surprises some people how much paper I rely on. 

Paper, tree pulp processed down into thin sheets that are then scattered in various forms all over my studio.

Right now I have a stack of journals that compile all the jotting down of 2018. There are 14 of them in the stack so far. On my desktop are the three notebooks I write in daily, plus a fourth pad that is more or less scratch paper for when I need to outline a particularly sticky thought. 

I have a box of magazines that didn’t sell. There’s also a few sections of last Sunday’s Times that I pulled out because I felt more reading and research needed to be done. 

All these different books in different places are because brains think in different ways in different spaces. No one’s mind works as cleanly as these uniform characters that I type into this white box. 

A few years ago, NPR did a wonderful look into the world of paper, which ended up being a look into the world of analog and the way we think. The gist: a pad of paper allows you to think with the chaotic format that your brain is probably thinking in. 

I’m lucky that most of these pages are bound together, or have some lines that stretch from margin to margin. Everything I write, whether it’s a headline for a post, a draft for this blog, a brick of text for an hourly client; almost all of it starts on paper somewhere. 

Writing would be great if it weren’t the only thing I knew how to do.

I publish as much as I can, you’ll just have to wait for the rest.

 

Writing would be great if it weren’t the only thing I knew how to do.

I publish as much as I can, you’ll just have to wait for the rest.

 

%d bloggers like this: