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  • Rekindling a Note Taking Practice

    I’ve always loved note taking.

    Even as a kid I would collect notes and information, magazine pages, booklets. I think it’s something of a neurodivergent impulse. Autistic folks often love collecting things and I’ve only just realized that part of that drive for me is in collecting information. I love learning things, but I also love cataloguing what I’m learning.

    (Important to note this is not a universal love among autistics. There are a lot of different ways our passions and interests can show up.)

    Through the years I’ve tried on different styles of note taking, but I’ve always loved the idea of a centralized system. The problem is I kept trying on other people’s systems and they were never the quite right fit.

    Recently, I’ve been working out how to create my ideal note taking system.

    A caution, dear reader, not to try and recreate my own system for yourself. But I hope by sharing this it can shatter some misconceptions about research and note taking and open up the realm of possibilities to you.

    If you’ve been around for a while you’ll notice this is kind of an amalgamation of several different note taking projects I have had. Gathering up everything under one roof as it were. Over the years I have tried: physical notebooks, file folders, the Pocket app, Evernote app, traveler’s notebooks, blog posts, podcasts, Notion, and finally a library card catalogue drawer. Each of those attempts was, in a way, trying to create a system that I saw outside of myself and they were all too rigid.

    My new system is a digital analogue hybrid.

    I love handwriting notes. Typing them. Shuffling around papers. For years my ideal system (the one of my university mentor) was a series of matching composition notebooks. (1)

    Then it was digital. I went “all in” on Evernote and it didn’t take long to reach the threshold where they wanted to charge a monthly fee. I think I was between degrees at this point and couldn’t imagine paying for that so I pivoted back to paper again.

    Austin Kleon blogged about commonplace books and I was hooked. I tried to create a color coded indexing system. I tried numerical systems.

    Traveler's notebook with wooden hobbit hole charm filled with small handwritten text and a green pen.

    The trouble with notebooks is no matter what kind of system you use it can be hard to find what you’ve recorded in the past. (2)

    After a while I gave up on that and started sharing monthly updates on Patreon. A round up of everything I’ve read, watched, or listened to with some of my favorite quotes.

    I always circle back to physical though. Early 2019 I tried a physical notebook to document what I wanted to share to Patreon. This was shortly before Davy was born and it quickly went out the window.

    Blue notebook on a wooden table with light filtering through sheer curtains. A pen and date stamp sit nearby.

    But the digital format survived. It lives on as my newsletter.

    The trouble is when I’m really in research collecting mode I have more than I can reasonably share in this format. And it’s also not easily search-able.

    So in 2020 I started a Notion. That also has stuck with me, but there are some caveats.

    • It’s a third party app that could disappear or start charging at any moment.
    • And I haven’t kept up with cataloguing the details like I did in the beginning and it’s starting to become a bit of a tangled mess.

    Part of the problem is I created this system when Davy was still napping in my lap a lot. So I had ages to poke around on my phone. Now I have other things to do and this type of cataloguing is not at my top of priorities. Here’s a screenshot where you can see I no longer take the time to fill out “by” and “type” which are kind of essential when it comes to finding what I’m looking for.)

    Screenshot of Notion app black text on a white background. A database named Choronofile appears.

    So I swing back analogue…

    When Davy started school I read yet another book about note taking and I fell in love with the idea of writing or typing up all my notes on index cards in my “free time.” But Davy was only in school for half days and by the time you take the commute into account I was lucky to get a couple of hours each day. I spent most of them writing a book and making art.

    Card catalogue drawer with handwritten notecards inside.

    Now we’re home educating so it’s all a muddle of life and creativity without any clearly delineated “studio time.

    If you’re neurodivergent you may have a similar cycle…

    Get excited by a project.

    Find a creative spark to create a system.

    Abandon system.

    Feel guilty.

    Index cards. "Everything begins with attention." "attention given to one thing cannot be given, then and there, to another, and no moment comes to us twice." Ba-I "To pay attention is to live, and to live is to pay attention."

    But something was different this time around.

    In all of the research about neurodiversity and autism to support David I am learning to support myself. And to reframe my perceived “deficits” as differences.

    Instead of feeling guilty I got curious.

    Why did some methods work better than others? What would really work best for me?

    When I switched up my Substack schedule I freed up some mental bandwidth.

    That extra capacity is really key here. I rarely innovate when I’m at capacity.

    The second magic ingredient was playing around.

    I was reading a new book and wanted to take notes. Instead of using Notion I followed my impulse and wrote them up on index cards. I knew it wasn’t something I could maintain, but I did it anyway.

    Notecards by a piece of paper scribbled in red and orange. Notes read: Before writing and drawing were separated they were conjoined. 

When I work with little kids I'm not there as a teacher. To me it's a language immersion class. Kids speak image.

We draw before we are taught. Everything we have come to call art seems to be in almost every 3 year old. 

Lynda Barry, Making Comics

    Kids Speak Image, Lynda Barry, September 20, 2023

    Meanwhile I’d been thinking about how to document and share content in a more casual way online. The weekly Substack posts had been too time consuming, but I knew if I slowed my publishing schedule to monthly (or even fortnightly) I would have so much I wanted to share and document in the in between.

    Then Austin Kleon linked to his Tumblr. I played around with a Tumblr account for a couple weeks and fell in love with the ease of it.

    1. Find something lovely.
    2. Share it.
    3. Type in some tags.

    It didn’t take long for me to see the caveats though.

    Mostly I was still creating content for someone else’s machine. Tumblr is old (in internet years) and who knows how long it will be around. Also, people started seeing and liking my posts and I was afraid I might start feeling social media feels about the value of posts based on their engagement.

    But there were also things I loved about it! One of which was how visual it was! My brain loves scrolling through a visual archive versus something that looks like a giant excel sheet (no offense Notion.)

    What I needed was a private Tumblr. Somewhere I could archive notes, images, even videos or podcasts. With a simple tagging system.

    Enter the microblog.

    I’m not sure how long it took me to realize that I could just make this on my own website.

    Not a blog, but a microblog. My blog is a place to share long form writing with other people. Whereas this microblog is a collection of bits and bobs. A place to archive research and document my creative process as a tool for myself. Which I might sometimes point to.

    Flatlay of book showing shapes like circles on a line and a spiral

    I love it.

    It feels like such a simple way to make a visual record of my thoughts and ideas. If you scroll through it’s essentially like taking a peek inside my brain. What am I reading? What am I thinking about? What was the obsession of the day?

    I am fascinated by the process of ideas unfolding and layering and coming alive. It’s something I’m always unraveling when I look at other people’s work and it’s part of why I love following artists and creators online. (3)

    What I got stuck on was the name. At first I called it scraps, but that didn’t really fit. Eventually I realized the answer had been there all along.

    Welcome to the Chronofile

    Sometime along the way I started calling my notes “The Chronofile.” You can see the hashtag in early Instagram posts and a note taking folder on Notion.

    The name come from one of my creative muses – Buckminster Fuller.

    He was a brilliant inventor and artist and writer and is known largely as the creator of the geodesic dome. I could go on and on about him (and I probably will some other time) but for now I’ll explain that he too was an obsessive notetaker. He documented everyday of his life in something he called the Dymaxion Chronofile. His file includes “more than 140,000 papers and 1,700 hours of audio and video” (all of which are archived in physical form and take up 1,400 linear feet.) (4)

    Screenshot of Google image results for Dymaxion choronofile including lots of yellowed notes, shelves and a green dymaxion car.

    Google Search results for “dymaxion chronofile” December 4, 2023

    All the more reason to go digital! I do not have that kind of space. 😂

    But there’s something about analogue.

    Writing things down engages a different part of the brain than typing. (5)

    Not to mention the physical record and embodied act of moving around notes and seeing them in visual conversation with each other.

    What I happened upon by writing those notes about Lynda Barry’s books was that I can have the best of both worlds.

    Physical notecards of my favorite quotes – in a card catalogue drawer, and a searchable digital archive – hosted on my own website.

    I can easily type up notes on my phone (using the Squarespace app) and then later jot them down or type them onto a card for my physical file. This also adds a layer of curation for my physical chronofile.

    Handwritten index card. Quotes typed below.

    It also means the letter and number codes (used above) are largely irrelevant due to the search-ability of my digital chronofile. Which is quite a relief because they never felt natural – just another outside system I was trying to use to reinvent the wheel. Why create analogue reference systems when digital search does that so easily?

    I fully accept this process will shift and change. But what I’m trying to do is to utilize the best features of each medium.

    Analogue for muscle memory. For embodiment. For serendipitous connections. And for aesthetic share-ability.

    Digital for search-ability. For time lord technology (fitting a lot in quite a small physical space). And for the ability to include photos, videos, and audio files.

    Embracing my inner Magpie

    The real delight here is that scaling back my Substack publishing schedule has freed up bandwidth to rekindle my passion for research.

    From deep dives into artist communities like Black Mountain College and the Arts & Crafts Movement to the mundane history of tenterhooks.

    Photograph of dictionary entry for tenterhook: a sharp hooked nail used for fastening cloth on a tenter - on tenterhooks. In suspense, or under a distressing strain.

    This hybrid system feels in alignment with my brain and the way it works and that makes all the difference.

    The Saga Continues

    One of the coolest things about Substack (or blogs) is that you can update posts as you have more information. Here’s a space I’m creating to do that as I evolve my note taking practice.

    2/9/24: I’m experimenting with adapting this method to Obsidian. It resolves a few problems I was having with the Squarespace app and hosts everything locally instead of using my web hosting space. I may still use the Chronofile on my website occasionally as a microblog, but I’ve taken it off the site navigation for now.

    I’ll be honest I was drawn in by the constellation visuals (these are called graphs.) I saw this twitter thread from Morgan Harper Nichols and was immediately enchanted.

    My own graphs are still small for now, but it’s cool seeing how ideas connect.

    Obsidian graph showing names of files on a dark gray field

    There are lots of aesthetic reasons I’m really enjoying the app, but from a practical side it makes sense too. Instead of uploading your data into an app you’re creating text files and nesting folders on your own computer.

    This means if Obsidian goes defunct you’ll still have all of your notes.

    And that’s the main reason I’m transitioning away from Notion.

    The stars are just a bonus. 💫

    Still here? You must be a creative kindred.

    How do you collect notes and information?

    Do you prefer analogue or digital or a bit of both?

    Thanks for being here.

    Sarah signed with a swoopy S

    FOOTNOTES
    1. I might have stuck with this one for simplicity sake, but around this time the paper and binding quality of composition notebooks went right down. I still remember the gummy goo of one particular notebook binding that peeled up. *shudders*

    2. At least it is for me. Kudos to you if you’ve figured it out.

    3. After watching every single one of the Vlogbrother’s videos I finally read John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars. And it felt like reading a book by a friend. I could see all of the random obsessions he’d had over the years come together in his book. The same for Hank Green’s An Absolutely Remarkable Thing.

    4. Dymaxion Chronofile:an archive of nearly every day of Buckminster Fuller’s life. Atlas Obscura. July 11, 2013.

    5. Study shows stronger brain activity after writing on paper than on tablet or smartphone, University of Tokyo, March 19 2021.

    Read more: Rekindling a Note Taking Practice
  • The Value of Creative Joy

    And rediscovering The Wheel of Time 🐉

    Today I want to talk about creative joy.

    Reconnecting to The Wheel of Time has reminded me what creativity felt like before it got all tangled up in career and profession and entrepreneurship.

    For the last decade my creative energy has been focused outwards.

    Everything I did became fodder for “content” on Instagram, YouTube, or (eventually) Substack.

    I love documenting the process, but the frame of creative business definitely impacted the types of things I chose to make and spend my time on. This was particularly tangled up in “positioning” myself as a professional artist & author.

    Certain parts of my identity got lost along the way. I’m in the process of untangling it all which I wrote about a few months ago: I’m not a brand. I’m a human. 🫀

    What I didn’t share then is that rediscovering my humanity was largely tied up in a book series called The Wheel of Time.

    Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time large blue books in a line
    14 Blue Wheel of Time Books (image credit: Juniper Books)

    During my teenage years I had basically no friends my own age. What I did have was The Wheel of Time. I logged in to a fansite called Wotmania every morning and later on a fan fiction site called Silklatern. The interactions I had with other fans was the one place that I really “fit in”.

    Navigating two degrees as an undiagnosed autistic took pretty much all of my social energy. During that time I completely lost touch with fandom and reading for fun. By the time I finished my postgraduate studies I’d pretty much forgotten what it felt like to get lost in a book.

    Enter 2020. I had a one year old baby. The world was chaos. And I turned to… The Wheel of Time. I pulled the Eye of the World off my shelf and fell into a world of magic that I knew and loved. The characters were old friends and the story was comforting in its familiarity, but that wasn’t all.

    Rereading the books awakened something in me.

    A creative spark. It is no coincidence that these are the books I was reading when I starting writing my first book, Discover Your Creative Ecosystem.

    The writing of Robert Jordan just has this effect on me. I love other authors and other books, but the Wheel of Time is etched into my bones.

    Eilonwy in colorful gleeman’s cloak with multicolored and textured patches. They have short brownish hair, pale skin and glasses.
    Myself in a multi colored patchwork gleeman’s cloak at WotCon 2023. Thanks to the volunteer photographers at WotCon for this shot.

    It’s hard to explain. It’s… ineffable.

    But there must be some kind of soul connection to something in this story for me. Why do we love the stories we love? It’s something I’m really curious about. It always feels flat and superficial when I try to explain.

    The Wheel of Time has always inspired me to create. I high school I filled notebooks and notebooks with world building. I made sketches of costumes and drafted stories and put myself to sleep imagining characters in worlds of my own.

    I gave up writing somewhere along the way, but after self publishing my first book I’ve also started writing fiction again. I’ve been working on a fantasy story that I’d like to tell for the last two NaNoWriMo’s and I’m ready to start working on it year round.

    Meanwhile I have felt the ta’veren tug (if you know you know) pulling me deeper and deeper into WoT fandom community.

    It’s becoming an important part of my life so you can probably expect to hear more about it here.

    It all started in March when I created a muppet style puppet for a song parody contest… an in world version of These are the People in Your Neighborhood. The first project I’ve done purely for creative joy in YEARS. 🤯

    Fluffy purple Ogier puppet with wide nose, tufted ears and ping pong ball eyes
    Fluffy purple Ogier puppet with large ping pong ball eyes, a wide purple nose, and tufted ears. Ogier are book loving creative souls and I feel a deep kinship with them.

    This was in no way for my portfolio, content marketing, or even something for my family. It was a gift for the Wheel of Time community and complete joy to make.

    I really loved the challenge of creating in a brand new medium (I’d never made a puppet before) and figuring it out through trial and error. I drew on various creative skills in a way I haven’t done since working on set and props during my undergraduate degree.

    Almost immediately after finishing it I jumped into another project. A gleeman’s cloak.

    Something I noticed about making something for me was that I didn’t have to fuss over setting up a camera to film or creating perfect process photos.

    I wasn’t making this for DIY content. I was making it for me.

    Because of this I worked for many hours at the kitchen table (much less photogenic than my studio) simply because I could cut squares or I could sew while Davy role played as Link from Zelda.

    I wrote a bit about that here.

    Piles of 209 square patches sorted by colors: red, gold, yellow, blue, green, purple, white, brown, black. There are also various textures: velvets, brocade, silk, corduroy, satin, batik, embroidered, and a red pleated satin with a row of red and gold buttons.
    Multicolored and textured patches for my cloak. These are 209 out of 350 patches required.


    I sat down to write about the cloak itself today, but instead I found myself wanting to share the story behind how it came to be.

    The shift that opened up “time” for something like this. News flash: I didn’t actually have more time. I just used my time differently. I spent a similar amount of time last summer making this.

    And the value I’m finding in creative joy.

    Let’s discuss.

    What would you make if you had a dedicated period of time where you couldn’t do anything productive and had to let yourself play?

    Where do you find creative joy?

    Cheers,

    Sarah signed with a swoopy S
    Read more: The Value of Creative Joy