Tools of the Trade: Staples Sustainable Earth Spiral Notebook

Anyone who writes a great deal (especially with fountain pens) is usually on the lookout for a good value on paper. There are a few good options out there, especially if you're willing to dive into a vat of Norcom Composition Notebooks and pull out all the good ones, but that's another post. The Staples Sustainable Earth notebook is a good place to start.

Sustainable Earth by Staples isn't your mama's recycled paper. The paper is made from recycled sugarcane called "bagasse," which is the by-product of sugar production and a highly renewable resource. That means my notebook has as much in common with a cupcake as a tree, and that's pretty cool.

So the paper makes mother-earth happy, and me too. How about my pens? Yes. Yes, they're happy. Even now.

You see, Sustainable Earth paper has gone through an identity crisis in the last few years. When it was originally launched, it had slightly different branding. More importantly, it had slightly different paper. I heard over and over from other fountain pen users that this paper was incredible (and cheap!), so I had to have some. There was only one problem: there was no Staples in my area. Not even close.

I eventually dropped by one while traveling and got that kid in a candy store feeling. There were options. Large or small spiral notebooks, composition books, several cover designs. The covers were heavy and durable, and the spiral substantial and strong. There was even a kraft paper two-pocket folder on the front page.  I wish I would have filled my arms with them and bought all I could carry. Instead, since this paper was as of yet untested, I bought only a single letter-size one-subject notebook.

The paper in that notebook was incredible. It was very thin paper, but had an hard finish on it. The paper was smooth, but the finish on the pages gave it an almost "cockle" effect, like old-school onion skin paper. Every line I drew was crisp and vibrant and there was zero bleedthrough with anything I threw at it. As much as I wanted to gobble up that notebook with my daily writing, I decided to conserve it. I cut up a few pages to make cahier-style handbound notebooks to hold me off until I could get back to a Staples to buy more.

That took longer than I hoped, and by the time I got my hands on another one, the changes had begun. They looked the same, had the same quality cover, spiral, and kraft-paper pocket, but there were a couple of distinctions. First, the price had gone up, double. It had been so inexpensive before, it wasn't too much a price jump for the quality of the paper, so I bought two small spirals this time. One for me, one for Husband.

We could tell right away it was different. The paper no longer had that hard finish. It was still thin, but not "crispy" like before. When we tried them, our fears were confirmed. Not only was the paper different, it was inconsistent. We had grabbed our two notebooks at random, but I came out the lucky one. The paper in mine was noticeably softer and more absorbent, but it was still very good. Husband's was not so good. His notebook feathered and bled like a sieve. It also had a distinctly fibrous look to the paper grain that wasn't present in mine. We also noted that the ruling lines on mine were much crisper than his, which were feathery and bloated.

By the time I filled that good little spiral, we had gotten a Staples in our area. That left me free to paw through their inventory for the good ones. The good news is that I hit on more good than bad. The trick I used was to look for the notebooks with the crispest printed lines. For the most part, I've been happy with my findings, and I stocked up. It's a good thing I did because we didn't have our Staples long before they decided to move out of our market and closed them up.

I still long for the older formulation, but that's because I'm spoiled. If I had never found that original notebook and got the newer kind, I would have been completely over the moon at its performance for the price. It's not perfect, but it's darn good.I've filled a couple of these, and they get the job done without too much fuss. Paper this thin inevitably has a lot of showthrough, but I haven't seen much feathering or bleeding with any of my pens. It actually behaves better than some much more expensive papers (I'm looking at you, Moleskine). The covers and spirals have proven to be just as durable as they look. I haven't had the problem I hate second-most with spiral notebook: the dread crimped spiral of doom, scourge of page turns everywhere. (The problem I hate first-most is that left-handers end up with spiral embedded in our arms when we try to write on the front side of the paper. Turning the notebook and being an underwriter helps.)

 

So what now? Should you buy one of these?

As of this writing, the smaller size spiral (9 1/2 x 6) retails for $4.49 each, and the larger letter size goes for $7.39. The composition notebook goes for $5.29. Those prices are getting pretty high when you can get Rhodia pads for around that. The redeeming factor for me is that it is a sustainable/recycled product that is constructed durably and, I think, attractively.

If I still had a Staples store near me, I would probably sift through their stock every so often, but in my case, I would just be chasing a memory.

Tools of the Trade: Moleskine Le Petit Prince Limited Edition Gift Box

I have long said I think Les Miserables is the greatest novel ever written, and The Little Prince is the wisest one. I love so much about Le Petit Prince, from the sweet illustrations to the philosophy tucked into the so-simple-it's-complicated story. I've got multiple copies of the book in several translations, and an untranslated French copy. It even inspired me to respect a snake. Sort of.

My friend Stacey (who is the very, very coolest) shares my love of the book, and knows me well. For Christmas, she gave me this the Moleskine Le Petit Prince Limited Edition Box Set. As if that wasn't enough, she also gave me the Le Petit Prince Moleskine Planner.

Moleskine Le Petit Prince Limited Edition Box Set

I've been a Moleskine user for nearly a decade, and I've sampled pretty widely from their product line. I've seen a few limited edition sets come and go that I thought would be cool to have, but they're pricey and I never pulled the trigger to buy one for myself. When I heard about this one, I didn't even look at the pictures because I knew I would want it, and I didn't expect I'd ever lay hands on it. Well. Stacey proved me wrong on that one, and I'm so glad she did.

The set contains:

• One photo/keepsake box
• Three Le Petit Prince postcards
• One sheet of Le Petit Prince stickers
• Six ruled Volant notebooks, each with a Le Petit Prince illustration on the front cover, three orange, three Prussian blue

First, the box. It's a nice, big box for photos or other small objects. It is styled like a large Moleskine notebook, with an elastic strap closure. It's a nice package, and I like that it is useful rather than designed to be discarded. The front is engraved with text from the original French Le Petite Prince, but there is no illustration or imagery otherwise beneath the paper label. The interior of the box is designed to cradle the 5 x 8.25 Volants perfectly, and there is a ribbon attached to assist in removing them. Once I have used up the notebooks, I will probably use this box to store ink samples and pen parts. It is certainly much nicer than the shoebox I currently use.

               

Next, the postcards.  The scenes depicted on the three postcards fit thematically with the the "acts" of the book. I eventually plan to mat and frame mine. The stickers included are nicely colored and include some iconic (and heartbreaking) scenes from the book. I don't know if/how I will end up using them, but they're a nice addition to the set.

Lastly, the notebooks. I've used Moleskine Volants in several sizes over the years, and I enjoy the form-factor. The covers are flexible plastic, and the binding is glued. They're a little more durable feeling than the Moleskine Cahier, which has a thick paper cover, but the plastic makes it feel a little less romantic. They open flat and are consistently constructed across all six. The paper is off-white and ruled with relatively subtle gray lines.

My one gripe with Moleskine has always been their paper consistency. You might get one that has amazing smooth paper that can take the wettest fountain pen and make the ink pop off the page, and then turn around and get another one that feels like writing on the illegitimate child of a grocery bag and a roll of toilet paper. That hasn't been enough to stop me using them because I really like their durability, form-factor, ruling options/styling, and relative availability, but I know a lot of extensive writers who spend a lot of money looking for quality notebooks that no longer touch them. It's not enough to give us a good notebook once in a while. We want to know that when we pay for a premium writing experience, we're going to get one every time.

I've found the Volant from this set I've been using to be on the lower end of the Moleskine quality range. The paper looks great, with a smooth finish and crisp ruling (especially compared to some of the lower-quality Cahiers I've had that looked and felt like sandpaper). I thought I was in for a lucky Moleskine experience, but the ink test page never lies. There are some considerable feathering and bleedthrough issues, especially with wetter/broader fountain pen nibs.It can hold its own with a fine nib and relatively conventional ink, but there is still some spotting and showthrough. If you're a ballpoint or pencil user, you won't have a bit of problem.

Personally, I'm not that bummed about the paper because it's definitely not the worst quality Moleskine I've ever used, and for what I need out of this notebook, it'll do fine. This Volant trucks along with me in my work bag where I tend to hustle in notes with either a Uniball Signo gel pen or (if I'm lucky), my Pilot Metropolitan or Kakuno, both fine nibs and nearly always inked with well-behaved Pilot Iroshizuku Take-sumi. I'm not afraid to write over blots and bleedthrough, and I still adore the cover, the form-factor, the ruling, and the flexibility of the notebook. I'm still not sure what surprises are in store for the other five in the set; this is the only one I've tested, and there's no guarantee the other that came with it will have the same paper quality.

This set was originally released in 2012 and is currently discontinued, but can be found in new condition with a little digging.

Le Petite Prince 2015 Weekly Planner

But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you.”  --Antoine St. Exupery, The Little Prince

This planner was not part of the Gift Box, but is a welcome companion. It seems appropriate to drop in a little review of it as well.

The planner is designed like a standard large Molekine hardcover notebook, and feels much the same to use. The opening section of the planner includes yearly calendars, time zone information, flight destinations, and even a ruler printed on the edge of a page. Some of these things may come in handy to some, but for me, they're more or less filler except for the yearly calendars.




The calendar pages are set up nicely for my purposes, with a week on the left and a note page on the right. It works out that the note page provides guide lines for the following calendar page, allowing me to keep things neat if I'm so inclined. (So far, I am. Check with me again around November.)

 

I have a separate planner for work--I use a battle-worn Staples Arc with custom pages--so this has become my personal planner. I keep up with band performances, travel plans, visits and activities with friends, bookbinding orders/shipping dates, and blog posts. (Yes, I do try to plan those. No, I don't often succeed. I'm trying!) 

The paper is thin and prone to bleedthrough, but is smooth and pleasant to write on. Again, I'm not too uptight about bleedthrough and have no problems writing right over it.

Maybe moreso than the Le Petit Prince Gift Box Volants, Moleskine really turned on the charm with the theme. Even the label, which I almost crumpled and threw away, has a little Easter egg on the reverse side: The Little Prince's passport.

 

Instead of the usual Moleskine "If found, return to..." page, they did a special version that made me smile. Here is the one in the Le Petit Prince Volant and the one in the Le Petit Prince planner. 

On the back pocket is printed a passage from the book in English and French. It happens to be one of my favorite quotes, and had it not been printed there, I might have written it in myself. Lovely.

The pocket contains some Le Petit Prince stickers to use however you wish, and in my case a heck of a lot of post-it notes, receipts, and some flags to keep all the planner sections easily accessible.

My biggest fear with this planner is that I will grow attached to it over the year and be sad when it expires. I may have to try my hand at using the cover to rebind a journal or something when the time comes. 

The End

This has got to be the longest review I have ever written, but there are a lot of components to cover! I hope it was helpful, and I hope it might inspire someone to read one of my all-time favorite books. Thanks again to the wonderful Stacey for such a thoughtful, perfect gift, and for remembering, "All grown-ups were once children... but only few of them remember it.”

Tools of the Trade: Commonplace Book

As I mentioned yesterday, if you see me out in person, odds are you will find a notebook somewhere on me. I have them coming out of my ears (not literally, though a pair of earring notebooks would be interesting...), and I use them often. I keep them with me so I won't miss out on those important droplets of information that rain down so unpredictably. Sometimes it is a quote, sometimes an image, sometimes an idea. They're all things I want to keep, and I just don't trust my spongy gray-matter enough to hold onto it for me by itself. These notebooks are not quite journals, though they are certainly personal. They are my commonplace books.

Yes. They're all full. All.

Commonplace books have a long history, dating back to the 15th century Italy when they were known as "zibaldone", or "hodgepodge books." That's a good way of describing them--a commonplace book can hold a little bit of everything, and each is unique to its owner. Many great minds have used them to store their thoughts and information, including John Locke, Mark Twain, Henry David Thoreau, and Ralph Waldo Emerson. For what it's worth, commonplace books also factored into the A Series of Unfortunate Events series by Lemony Snicket, and that deserves as much distinction as anything.

One facet that separates a commonplace book from a diary or a journal, is that the content is not always intrinsically personal, and the pages are often indexed. John Locke is credited for popularizing an index system in which each page must be given a header to identify the content and how it will be used. Locke's system was aimed toward academics, but the foundation is useful in any context. There comes a sense of responsibility for what goes on the page once that header is on there, and I find it helps me maintain focus. (Read: I feel guilty for tangents. Then I make a new page for the tangent, but since it has a name, it is no longer a tangent. Lather, rinse, repeat.) 

Allow me to outline my incredibly complicated commonplace book indexing system. Every page of my commonplace book gets the topic of that page on the upper corner, and the right page (only, unless it is a top bound spiral notebook) gets a page number.

That's pretty much it.

When the book is full, and I do mean every-single-line full, I go back and fill out an index card with the labels and contents. I tape it to the back cover of the book, and then I grab up the next one to start all over again.

My commonplace book is a comfort. I know I always have a safe place to scribble down a thought or an image so I can save it for later when I'm going to "really" write. If I'm away from home and inspiration calls, I can do a little novel drafting and the index keeps me from losing the pages in the mix. These books also hold my idea stockpile. If I can't find something to write about, I can flip through them and find all kinds of inspiration. When I do find one of those rare free moments to write something down or read something back, I feel more intensely myself than any other time throughout my day. That's a pretty big gift for a tiny little pad of paper.

It might be a notebook to you, but it is more than a place to scribble a grocery list. My commonplace book is like a beating heart tucked into my purse or pocket, and I am better off for having it there.

Tools of the Trade: Poopoopaper Panda Poo Journal

On a trip to the Memphis Zoo last year, I ducked into the gift shop with Husband and my friend. They meandered around, trying on safari hats and sunglasses, smugly ignoring all the snake memorabilia hiding on the shelves. I do not like snakes, remember? So, that left me creeping around the aisles, holding my breath and steeling myself so I could walk past the big display of plush snake stuffed animals (ages 3+). I was quickly becoming a nervous wreck and needed something to focus on so I could bide my time in safety.

My sixth sense kicked in and I finally located a panda-adorned table full of books, pens, and paper. There were no snakes anywhere near it, and no one else was standing there. Plus, PANDAS! Perfect.

The table was piled high with these:

They were made with panda poo.

Like, poo from actual pandas. Like this one, who posed so nicely for me:

He's making new raw paper material right now.

Naturally, I had to have one.

The manufacturer, Poopoopaper (their webstore is called the "Pootique"), uses the back cover to assure me that the poo in question was sifted for bamboo fibers, which were washed and sterilized before processing, ensuring an environmentally sound and odorless writing experience. Uh huh. Let's hope so.

There is good craftsmanship in this notebook. The cover is adorable. It is well-made and quite artful, especially the inset panda portrait with an origami-style plant for it to munch.  It does not smell like poo of any kind, unless Panda poo already smells like paper. I kinda doubt that.

I was not expecting this paper to be good for use with fountain pens, which are pretty much all I ever use. The paper is thick and spongy feeling, like most handmade pulp papers. Of course, that didn't stop me from giving it a try.

It went a bit better than I expected, and wasn't entirely unpleasant. It was obviously a bad pen and paper match--it was rough and there was plenty of feathering and "ink-bloat"--but I still found a lot to like about the paper. It is as soft and thick as the cover led me to believe. The front side is "smoother" but that is like saying my cat's tongue is smoother than 40-grit sandpaper. It is smattered with little fibers throughout. Fibers that came from poo.

The back side of the paper is quite different. It has a uniform "grid" pattern embedded into it from the paper manufacturing process. This type of paper is not press rolled like most commercial papers, but is dried on a screen, creating this unique pattern. I don't believe the notebook is designed for writing on both sides of the page, but I can't help myself. I hate wasting paper.

I tried the paper with a gel pen as well. I used the fake Mont Blanc someone gave my husband for free loaded with a Parker Gel refill. It's normally a nice writer, but I had a similar nagging fear that the tip of the pen was about to clog up with fibers.

Then came pencil. It is hard to go wrong with a pencil since they're fairly indestructible. If I'd had the right pencil in my hand, I might have found it a little more pleasant, but in this case, the one I had was a little light and hard for this paper. It dug into the soft paper and produced much too faint a line for my liking.

The best pen for the job on this particular paper, as I'm pained to admit, is an old fashioned paste-ink, 39¢ ballpoint pen.

The ballpoint matches pleasantly with the soft paper, and the lines are dark and easy. This paper makes for one of the better ballpoint pen experiences I've had, actually, mostly due to the pleasant sinking of the pen into the paper. It reminds me of when I used to flip over my mom's floppy plastic and rubber placemats when I was a kid and doodle on the backs of them. (Yes, I eventually got caught.) I thought I'd be as nagged by the fear of clogging the tip as I was with the gel pen, but for some reason, it wasn't a factor. It just didn't scratch into the paper as much.

On the whole, this is a nice notebook if you're not picky about your writing instruments. It is cute, it is quirky, it is well-made, and it is made of poo. How can you top that?

Inspiration Monday: Don't Judge Me

I just got back from an office supply store. I went in for one single thing, but it is school supply season and even though I do not have school or kids or any need of supplies, these are dangerous times for writing/drawing/paper-gluing types like myself.

I picked up my one-single-harmless-thing-I-went-in-for, and I headed toward the register. Then I turned around. I couldn't go into an office supply store and not go down the paper aisle. Not in school supply season. That would be UNNATURAL.

So I did. I meandered up and down, looking at the sale tags and chewing my lip. I have plenty of paper. I even make my own notebooks. See?

I have plenty of paper. I couldn't. I shouldn't.

I did.

Don't judge me.

I scuttled up to the register with my nose scrunched up and to the side like a defensive bunny wearing its "don't judge me" face. I tossed down the I'm-not-telling-you-how-big pile of these under my arm:

Composition notebooks, $1.00 each. What I hoped no one saw was that I dove into a display as tall as me to find these particular special ones. Yes, they were on the bottom, and yes, I was thrilled when I found them, and no, I didn't need them.

Don't judge me.

The cashier picked up the notebooks. "You must like these," she said glancing at my pile.

"Yes," I said and hurried through my wallet looking for my debit card. She was judging me. I could feel it. She didn't understand.

"Hmm," she said. "Do you mind telling me why?"

Judging. She was. I knew it.

"Well, I'm a writer. Er...at least, I write a lot. These ones are made in Brazil. They have the best paper, especially for fountain pens. These are the college ruled ones, and you almost never find them."

"Oh!" she said and flipped through them. "That's so funny--you're a writer, too! I'm in school for creative writing, and I am always looking for good paper I can afford. I'm going to have to get a pile of these myself!"

She hadn't been judging. I had.

We chatted a few minutes more about fiction writing and screenplay formatting and yes, where the last stash of the good notebooks were. I'm not selfish.

How many times have you missed out on making a connection with someone because you thought you could read minds? (Hint: You can't.) What about your characters? What makes them scrunch up their noses and hurry through their purses?

We all have quirks and foibles and idiosyncrasies, and most people are just a smidgen sensitive about them. Sprinkle some on your fiction and you'll be surprised at how many people can relate.