I bought a new journal yesterday. There’s nothing quite like the potential of a brand new book full of blank pages.
My very generous congregation gave me a gift card from Barnes and Noble to recognize the Month of the Ministry, so I stopped by there yesterday at lunch. A journal seemed a good way to use the gift, part practical, part reflective, part complete splurge. I picked out a black, leather-bound book, with an expandable inside pocket and an elastic strap, made by Moleskine.
I’d had my eye on the Moleskine journals since several of my favorite writers at the Collegeville Institute raved about them last summer. And the label declares that Moleskines are “legendary,” used by the likes of Hemingway and Picasso.
“It was kind of expensive,” I confessed to Rob.
“Meaning, it was more than a dollar notebook from Rite-Aid?” he asked.
I glanced at the price tag. “Um. Yes.” Significantly more than a dollar.
He looked at the price tag, too, and rolled his eyes. “That’s ridiculous.”
But I had this gift card. And surely, the more you pay for a journal, the better your writing will be.