How to Keep on Nodding Terms with Yourself
A Book Designer’s Literal Notebook
Hello, Dear Reader!
This is A Book Designer’s Notebook, a newsletter about books, design, and what I’m working on. I’m Nathaniel Roy. This email may be clipped in your inbox—click here to read it in your browser.
I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not.
—Joan Didion, “On Keeping a Notebook”
Did you keep a diary when you were young? I did. I don’t have it anymore, but the first proper journal I remember keeping was an A Series of Unfortunate Events notebook with Count Olaf on the cover called The Blank Book.
The pages were lined, and along the bottom of each were quotes and illustrations from the book series. I don’t remember what I wrote in it—this is a blessing—except for one hazy memory of a slanted scribble, completely ignoring the lines on the page: “WENT TO WENDY’S. HAD A GOOD DAY.”
I kept a handful of journals, as I called them—and yes, one of them was leatherbound—throughout the years. They were mostly emotional things, less a record of my days and more a repository for the things I needed to process. I tended to write only when I was bothered, chronicling my ennui, heartbreak, and spiritual confusion. I was also a pretentious little shit.
August 9, 2011 (Age 17):
Today, we embarked on a bus tour through Denali National Park. Yet another 8 hour trip, but so far the sights have been worth the time spent … The combination of elegance and strength these mountains portray really makes you appreciate the Earth and the nature of it. It almost seems wrong to let humans on to this majestic scene.
May 11, 2013 (Age 18):
Haven’t written in here much the last month. That’s usually a good sign—I only write a lot when things aren’t going well. But that doesn’t change the fact that I still think of her a lot and miss her very much.
March 22, 2014 (Age 19):
I feel like drinking coffee and having an intimate conversation. I feel like smoking a cigarette, too. Or, at least I think I’d feel like a cigarette, if I smoked cigarettes. However I do not smoke, so who knows what I would want if I did indeed smoke cigarettes? 1
Though there’s still ennui aplenty, my notebook looks a bit different today. It is, without exaggeration, one of the most important and useful objects in my life. Maybe the most. Some people use different notebooks for different things—not I. Each book is a diary, planner, sketchbook, scrapbook, and commonplace book in one. They are my mind on the page and a record of my days.
Why I Keep a Notebook
Why did I write it down? In order to remember, of course, but exactly what was it I wanted to remember? How much of it actually happened? Did any of it? Why do I keep a notebook at all? The impulse to write things down is a peculiarly compulsive one, inexplicable to those who do not share it, useful only accidentally, only secondarily, in the way that any compulsion tries to justify itself.
—Joan Didion, “On Keeping a Notebook”
Why do I keep a notebook? Because I can’t imagine not—why do you keep an arm? I do not remember why I started keeping those journals so long ago, except, maybe, for the compulsion that Joan Didion mentions in her essay “On Keeping a Notebook.” I started keeping the notebook in its current form in order to become more productive and organized. But the notebook has changed much as I have.
I keep a notebook to capture tasks and remember appointments. To sketch and brainstorm for projects. To write about the mundane and life–changing events of a day; to capture snippets of dialogue. To write down ideas. To take notes on a book that I want to remember. To remind myself that I get depressed in winter, and that that is okay. To make bad and—occasionally—good art. I keep a notebook to learn and remember who I am.
December 29, 2015 (Age 21):
“Want to know the best part about Dublin?”
“What’s that?”
“The road to Killarney.”
June 17, 2024 (Age 30):
The bookseller, to a young man with an English accent and hair out of the 1980s: “You want to know the cheapest copy of Mein Kampf? That’s a scary question.”
This sounds a bit melodramatic, I know. I am, after all, on nodding terms with my 20-year-old self. But I also keep a notebook because I am quite literally afraid of losing my mind. My grandfather had Alzheimer’s. My memory, at 30, is not good. As I age, I increasingly see my notebook as a record, albeit an imperfect one, of myself. I don’t need it to be perfect. I just need it to exist. Actually—I realize now, in real time—maybe not a record. That implies an objectivity that isn’t there. A self-portrait.
An archivist colleague of mine once said that this will be the least–recorded period in human history. That may be hyperbole. It may not. His point was that so much of the information about individuals today is digital, mediated, and owned by (or licensed to) tech companies and corporations. I am not suggesting my books will be notable in the historical record, but in an age where social media has become the de facto and public diary, they will be an important personal historical record.
So, there are reasons—but it is still at its heart a compulsion.
How I Keep a Notebook
The Bullet Journal method is a constant process of refinement, reflection, and documentation.
—Bullet Journal FAQ
The B-Word
To fit all of this into one notebook, I use something called The Bullet Journal method. You may have heard of it. I hesitate to share this because of the myriad connotations “bullet journal” has. Admitting this feels like admitting to actively using Facebook in the year 2024. Maybe you are unafflicted, but when I hear “bullet journal,” I think of washi tape, beautiful calligraphy, habit tracking, productivity, and beautifully curated Pinterest and Instagram feeds.2 My notebook shares DNA with the “bujo,” but feels quite different to me. Mine is generally uglier and much less focused on productivity, and while the term is technically accurate, I refuse to call it a Bullet Journal. Using a popular, branded term to describe something so integral to my sense of self feels at worst antithetical and at best reductive.
But the system, created by fellow designer–with–chicken–scratch–handwriting Ryder Carroll, is good.
The Index
The heart of the system, and therefore my notebook, is the index. If a topic receives enough scribbles to warrant several pages, it and its page numbers get logged in the index at the front of the book. Because I am an anal–retentive nerd, I also create several sub-indexes before ever giving myself the chance to write anything in a to-do list. These sub-indexes are usually for diary entries, book notes, and design projects.
The Planner
November 10, 2022:
Up 0715 w/ Chuck, Steph slept in
Elena taking C to YDL storytime
Little desire to do work today
Mom cut her hair short + spikey
70 degrees outside today. Warm fall days feel so special.
Color management + prepress reading today
Nevo + Megan over for pizza + games
Every day, or nearly as often, I write a list of the day’s tasks and appointments for crossing off. On the side of the page, I have taken to keeping a log of the day’s events, in brief, to support my weak memory. On Mondays, I add a box for the week ahead. Sometimes I add a sketch, but these pages are often unadorned, boring, and ugly. Work, freelance, and personal tasks rub shoulders with little letter badges for designation.
Each new month receives a spread. One page contains boxes dedicated to tasks, events, and projects for the month, while the other lists each day of the month, leaving room for one written line to sum up that day, and four column slots for tracking meditation, walks, and alcohol and coffee consumption.3
Do not be deceived: this helps me, but I am no productivity master. Plenty of tasks go undone, but existing on the page is the best chance they have.
The Commonplace Book
I use my notebook to write notes and quotes from what I am reading, watching, or listening to. If I want to remember anything specific, I usually need to do this. After, I transfer distilled and relevant quotes to a digital file that I can then access on my phone at any time.
The Sketchbook
My notebook is also the central hub for all of my creative projects. I sketch thumbnails for book covers, create collages, and make drawings. Pages can get ugly, and books can get thick—and that is a good thing. The sketchbook is my place to explore ideas and make “bad” things that are necessary stops on the road to making something good.
The Diary
November 3rd, 2022 (Age 28):
The drug she will be getting is nicknamed “the red devil.” Doxorubicin. I can’t stop thinking about that name … in addition to its shitty, chemo side-effects, it can turn your piss red after each dose. Fun stuff. Treating cancer with poison has never felt “okay,” but it’s funny how when it’s your mom, it feels downright barbaric. Like future generations will shake their heads at our primitive techniques the way we might now look back at the Halstead Radical Mastectomy.4
I am still a frequent diarist. What and how I write depends on the season and, often, what I am reading.5 While there is still plenty writing about what bothers me, I write equally about daily, mundane happenings and life–changing events. I record the incredible sandwich I ate from the restaurant below my studio; I process my mother’s breast cancer diagnosis.6 I draw a little sketch to better remember my day. I paste in photos from my phone or an instant camera. It’s all grist for the notebook mill.
The Page is a Place
I have already lost touch with a couple of people I used to be; one of them, a seventeen year-old, presents little threat, although it would be of some interest to me to know again what it feels like to sit on a river levee drinking vodka-and–orange-juice and listening to Les Paul and Mary Ford and their echoes sing “How High the Moon” on the car radio.
—Joan Didion, “On Keeping a Notebook”
I have a friend who likes the idea of keeping a notebook. But they don’t. I suspect, in part, because they are worried about “ruining” a perfect blank book. I also suspect they might be afraid of not liking the self they see on the page. Sometimes, I wish I could shake them and yell, “That’s the whole goddamn point!” But like a toddler or a cat, you cannot show them how badly you want something.
What I want you to know, Dear Reader, is that keeping a notebook has been the greatest tool against perfectionism in my life. A notebook can be where perfect goes to die—if you let it. A reminder that you have changed and will do so again. A home for experiments without judgment. As Linda Barry puts it, “The page [is] a place rather than a thing.” A place to bring yourself—warts, scribbles, and all.
Sometimes, the person I find in my notebook feels like a stranger. I lose touch with him; sometimes I do not like him. Nevertheless, I would not be here without him. So when I see him, I nod hello.
Recommendations, Gratitude & Shameless Self-Promotion
If you want to read more about notebooks, I cannot recommend Jillian Hess’s newsletter Noted enough.
I also wholeheartedly recommend you check out Austin Kleon—he might be the largest individual influence on the visual evolution of my notebook practice.
Here’s a search for “notebook” on Maria Popova’s brilliant blog, The Marginalian. Finally, if you want to go down a rabbit hole, just Google “commonplace book.”
If you have made it this far, thank you sincerely for reading. I hope you enjoyed it! There is much—probably too much—to read in this world, so I am grateful for your time and attention.
This newsletter is a labor love, with increasing emphasis on the word “labor.” If you would like to further support my work and keep this newsletter free for everyone, you can:
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Until next time,
Nathaniel
Ugh.
I do note the irony of saying this while sharing my notebooks here on Substack.
I haven’t meditated or drank alcohol in months, but at this point, it’s a ritual.
Around this time, I was reading The Emperor of All Maladies by Siddhartha Mukherjee.
When I read Alan Rickman’s diaries, I wrote a lot of terse, sardonic entries about my day. When I read David Sedaris, there’s a lot more dialogue snippets from strangers.
Maybe this is a bad example. That sandwich was also life changing.
These pages are stunning!
Excellent read. And thank you for the peek into your notebooks. They look great!