My trusty notebook

Fifteen years ago, in a used bookstore in Portland, Maine, I stumbled upon a copy of The Wasteland: A Facsimile and Transcript of the Original Drafts including the Annotations of Ezra Pound, for the glorious price of $7. The book was published by Harvest in 1971. I’ve never seen another copy anywhere, and, believe me, with tape holding it together, I’ve looked.

I’m fascinated by Pound’s annotations –– cross-outs, notations, and comments like “often used” in the margins. Yes, I’m witnessing genius in action, reading Pound’s marginalia, but moreover, I’m intrigued by the inner workings, the mind processing, the pen gliding.

Joan Didion said somewhere, “I don’t know what I think until I write it down.” There’s some of that in Pound’s cursive, in his declarative commentary. We’re seeing Pound experience the great text before the rest of us, processing, thinking on paper, responding as a first reader.

I, too, like to think on paper. I think I always have. As a dyslexic, I stuttered as a kid. Writing things down alleviated that. I didn’t stutter when I wrote. And the page is a place where I go to think. Tom’s great post this week about reading with a critical eye, got me thinking about my journal, the place where I go to ramble (mentally) about plots and characters and generally figure things out before setting hands to keyboard. That’s not to say I outline or prewrite. No, I’m not that organized. And, frankly, my mind just doesn’t work that way. I journal to solve problems, as the photo I’ve shared here might indicate. If you can read my henscratch, you may see question marks. I’m asking questions and thinking through answers to a plot problem. I’m writing dialogue in what might be a scene.

Just, as Didion said, writing things down to learn what I think in my trusty notebook.

Everyone should have one.