Nothing excites me more than naked paper – I love paper, I have reams of office paper, stacks of notebooks – small, large, lined and unlined – I have tiny ones that fit in a pocket, larger ones by my bedside, even some that stay in the car and I always – always – keep a fresh supply stashed somewhere in my desk. I have lever arch files of loose-leaf foolscap that I take with me on long journeys and a small regularly assaulted stack of used envelopes out in the open on my desk.
What was that? Used envelopes??? Yes, that’s what I said. Even a used envelope is a source of naked paper, in fact the first thing I reach for in this orgy of paper is often a discarded envelope I have “rescued” and stashed for later use.
My [certainly not] unique filing system sees my desk scattered with those bits of paper, scribbled on front and back, even opened and turned inside out. It doesn’t matter if the inside has tiny blue or pink printing on it and I can hardly see my own ink, I will fill every inch of that piece of paper with tiny writing and miniscule notes. My desk drawers are stuffed to the brim with them. They can be found everywhere I spend any amount of time cogitating.
Why? Because I can’t resist! It’s a flat bit of paper that has nothing on it. It’s wastepaper and it might go in the bin or on the fire. Therefore I have to use it before it’s destroyed. It’s flat and clean and something to write on…
I’ve even been known to write on tissues and toilet rolls…
Yes, I’ve got it bad, I know… I know…
Happy writing everyone!