Blank Page Notebook Novels & Stories

The seventeenth notebook opened in January. She has been noting this in the annual reviews since the third: how many notebooks have been filled, at what pace, and what the pace says about the year. The seventeenth notebook opened in January and will close, she estimates, in February of next year — a shorter year than most, which means the writing was denser rather than less frequent. The third book required a different kind of attention than the briefs and the annual reviews; the notebook this year has more thinking and less reporting.

Thе nail fіlе іѕ tiny, аnd has a рlаѕtіс tоrtоіѕе ѕhеll hаndlе. Thеѕе things аrеn’t еvеn ѕlіghtlу іmрrеѕѕіvе to me аt first glаnсе. I’m looking for wеароnѕ, and wауѕ to escape. But I сhаngе mу mind whеn I ѕее the pages of thе first half of thе notebook are fіllеd wіth flоwеrу, cursive ѕсrірt.

Thе nail fіlе іѕ tiny, аnd has a рlаѕtіс tоrtоіѕе ѕhеll hаndlе. Thеѕе things аrеn’t еvеn ѕlіghtlу іmрrеѕѕіvе to me аt first glаnсе. I’m looking for wеароnѕ, and wауѕ to escape. But I сhаngе mу mind whеn I ѕее the pages of thе first half of thе notebook are fіllеd wіth flоwеrу, cursive ѕсrірt.

a spiral-bound notebook? With exaggerated care, as if handling some priceless artifact, Caleb set the notebook on the table before her. Lila recognized it instantly - the very same journal he'd commandeered during their last confrontation, now being returned of his own volition. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, darting between the proffered item and Caleb's unreadable expression as she tried to divine the trap surely hidden within this unexpected olive branch. But Caleb merely nudged the notebook closer, then withdrew a pen from his jacket pocket. With deliberate movements, he flipped open to a blank page and began to write. Lila watched, mystified, as his meaty hand laboriously traced out a

The small click of the notebook ring when she turned the page was as grounding as a deep breath. Not inward. Not away. Just closer. Lists. Lines. Timelines. What could be touched, measured, and corrected. She opened her notebook to the next clean page and let the pen move in straight strokes that did not wobble, even when her wrist wanted to. Her fingers smelled faintly of lemon sanitizer and graphite. She pressed harder than she needed to, as if the act could anchor her to the present.

It seemed like Bagwis routinely cleaned it. She opened the chest, and she saw lots of notebooks, old pens, several glasses and wooden bottles, little wooden boxes, and lots and lots of papers. She grabbed a green notebook, the lengthiest in the collection. It was puffy because of its pages that seemed to be made of a thick type of paper. It also looked like it had been soaked and dried. Most of its pages were crisp and burnt. "Uma," Luna read. It was written in Baybayin, an ancient calligraphy she's still studying on. She flipped a page filled with faded Baybayin characters, which she deficiently understood. It continued until half of the notebook, and Luna fathomed that it might've been a d

Flipping to the next page, I try to see if there's any indication of a title, since neither the front page nor first page have one. I don't see anything of the sort. Instead, I find a paragraph of ink marks that look similar to the one on the first page. "Is this a joke?" I flip to the next page and find the same handwriting, but the text in this one looks longer. Groaning, already starting to get irritated by the seemingly pointless search, I flip through some more pages, hoping that I find something meaningful. Rather, most of the pages of the book are blank. Just bare sheets of paper.

She’s frowning and I want to know why. ‘Is there anything we can do?’ I step forward and she turns, looking at me again for the first time. I feel my heart skip. I don’t like being invisible to her, not part of her focus. Although I can respect and understand that she needs to work on Luca first. That and I’ve told her we’re over. ‘On my desk,’ she tells me ‘there’s an old battered notebook. It’s blue, no green!’ She nods, ‘I need it, do you mind?’

Mabel revealed three notebooks thick as bricks. “Mr. Erlington, I heard from outside the meeting room that the artist from Luna Arthouse has supplied many early drafts of the comic's characters, storyline, and the so-called plans for the story developments, but I have the exact copies of the same things.” Wayne raised an eyebrow. He stared at the three thick notebooks and was even more confident about this guess. He took a notebook and flipped through it. He was surprised by the notes recorded there. This notebook was different from the early drafts the artist from Luna Arthouse had provided him. The notes in this notebook were more detailed and memorable. Even the inspiration for the early

I guess I could get a good enough view of her there… Oh gosh, Anya, that’s so gross. I just shake off the thought and decide to unroll the bag. As I do so, I stumble upon something. I look below me and near my right knee is Sadie’s notebook, slightly ajar. I took them and lay them on the side so I could straighten the sleeping bag. After that, I went back to my place, taking the notebook with me. It is a medium-sized hardbound notebook. It is coated in black but there are a few statements written in what seems like a cut-out white paper taped on the hardbound. Some words have exclamation points, question marks, swear words written in all uppercase, and other words like Shh!, Quiet! It’s Not