Sketchbooks: The Hoarder's Guide To Stationery Happiness

Every artist knows the thrill of cracking open a brand-new sketchbook. The blank pages hold endless possibilities, each one a canvas for the next great idea, a future painting in the making. You might even imagine your sketchbook as a beautifully curated collection of drawings - perfectly composed, skillfully executed, and maybe even worthy of a gallery show one day.

You feel a rush of potential, and immediately think: This is the one. The sketchbook that will finally make me consistent, professional, and maybe even the kind of artist who has a clean studio.

You bring it home as if it were a sacred object. You stroke the cover. You pick the perfect pen. You whisper sweet promises to it:

“No scribbles. No shopping lists. Only serious art.”

The first few pages? Divine. Thoughtful compositions, clean lines, maybe even a date in the corner like a fancy museum catalogue. You are smashing it. You sip tea and feel like someone who probably has an agent.

And then - life.

Suddenly, you're sketching a coffee mug because you’ve hit an energy dip and can’t face drawing “a proper subject.” Then a wonky cat while you’re on hold with a supplier. Then 13 pages of swirly doodles you drew absentmindedly while thinking about dinner. You swear you’ll tear them out later (you won’t).

Now your glorious new sketchbook looks like a mix of divine inspiration, mild confusion, and something that might be a potato wearing a hat.

The Reality: A Glorious, Judgement-Free Mess

Here’s the truth: 90% of sketchbooks are chaos in a cover. For every “that could be a finished work” moment, there are five “what even is that” pages. Scribbles, abandoned ideas, ghosts of motivation past. Some pages are brilliant. Some pages are therapy. Some pages just caught your pen because your hand needed to move.

And that’s exactly what a sketchbook is for.

It’s not a portfolio. It’s a playground. A judgement-free zone where bad drawings go to be lovingly ignored. It’s where you try things, fail things, and occasionally draw an entire page of chickens because… you just needed to.

Sketchbooks I Definitely Needed (and Totally Didn't Use)

A brief inventory of artistic optimism

1. The “Gorgeous Leather One”

   Too beautiful to touch. Meant for Important Ideas. Currently lives on a shelf like a fragile museum artifact. Purchased on an art trip to Florence.

2. The “Cheap One for Messy Stuff”

   Ironically still blank because “I didn’t want to waste it on something too messy.”

3. The “Tiny Travel One”

   Bought for spontaneous sketches on location. Took it on one trip. Drew a coffee cup. Retired.

4. The “Theme-Only Book”

   Reserved for botanical studies. Only made it to a single half-finished fern.

5. The “Bought in a Rush” Sketchbook

   Felt productive buying it. Haven’t seen it since. Might be under the couch.

6. The “Gifted by Another Artist” One

   Full of expectation and good vibes. Too intimidated to open.

7. The “It Was on Sale” Spiral Pad

   Discounted into my heart. Still has the price sticker on. Possibly haunted.

8. The “Tear-Out Pages” Book

   Bought for convenience. Every page now missing. No idea where they went.

9. The “One I Was Going to Fill in a Month”

   Still 97% blank. It's now been three years. But I do still think about it.

10. The “Backup Book”

    Just in case I run out of the others. I never run out of the others.

The Accidental Masterpieces

And yet, amid the doodle debris and half-finished trees, there’s the occasional gem. The drawing that starts as nothing suddenly has life. A gesture sketch that actually works. A colour combo that feels like magic. A scribble that could totally be turned into a painting if you ever find it again under the tea stain.

These little moments are the gold dust. The reminders that creativity doesn’t always show up on command - it sneaks in while you’re distracted.

So when you find one, celebrate it. Take a picture. Frame it, if you must. But remember, it wouldn’t exist without all the chaos that came before it.

Flip It, Laugh, Repeat

The best part? Looking back. Flipping through your old sketchbooks is like scrolling your creative brain’s camera roll. You’ll find work you forgot, ideas you want to revisit, and at least one truly horrific drawing that makes you howl-laugh. Treasure it all.

Your sketchbook isn’t supposed to be perfect. It’s supposed to be yours. Use the fancy ones. Fill the weird ones. Draw potatoes in all of them.

Because the only “wrong” way to use a sketchbook is never to open it.