I love stationary! I love the smell, the look, and the different textures. My favourite item of stationary is the book, blank books or journals specifically; all different sizes, shapes and materials. Since I was a child I have been drawn to the stationary aisles of supermarkets, department stores and, now stationary is cool, shops like Smiggle and Typo often capture me as I walk past. I honestly think they pump out new book smell to tempt people like me into their wonderful stores.
A new book is filled with potential and a certain magic. The precious first page, just yearning for marks to be made. I will often leave the front page blank as the pressure is too much! I am scared the magic the book holds will dissipate if I put the wrong image or thought on that page. But the guiltless pleasure I used to find in purchasing a beautiful journal has been tainted.
I have not bought a blank book or journal in more than a year. This began the minute I started making my own. I still love books, mine and other peoples but I cannot justify a purchase as I can just use one of my own. I covet them at stores and glimpse them online, but I don’t buy them because I feel guilty of betraying my own creations.
Do other creatives experience this bizarre affliction? Does the baker secretly desire the cakes in the shop window of the other bakery in town as she/he walks by? Does the jeweler yearn to buy and wear another makers wares?
Do other creative souls suffer with this strange self inflicted torment, or is it just me?