Lately my time has been squeezed. I’ve had a lot of work on and have a growing puppy to contend with – one who is a working breed so needs a lot of attention! – and in absence of blocks of writing time, I’ve been turning to my notebooks. I have written in them almost every day recently, keeping a journal to a certain degree, but also thinking about ideas for my next book, observations, conversations I am having and thoughts and breakthroughs. Reflections. Work projects too. My notebooks become my companion, and it is the first place I turn to. We forget I think when we are squeezed for time and imagine that we are not actually writing, when we are actually writing. It might not be the next book, a whole manuscript on the screen. But it is the first sketches of one. When I return to the words in these books I feel a rush of excitement at the ideas that are being expressed, that original thought, the interesting prose. And when you are a memoirist, the stuff of every day is your friend. So, next time you think you’re not writing, give yourself a break. Dig out those notebooks and journals and congratulate yourself for putting pen to paper, for making a most personal art.