I heard my landlady bellow my name from downstairs. After a quick self-inspection to make sure I was dressed – bitter experience has taught me the importance of this – I rushed to open the door. There, lying on the landing, was a brown envelope with something I’ve been eagerly waiting for.
Ignore those greasy fingerprints on the cover. I had just put on some hand lotion.
This 8″ by 5″, 220 page sketchbook by Watson-Guptill is bound like a real book. I didn’t want a spiral binding even though it would have let the pages lie flat. I wanted something that would look and feel like a book and look good on a shelf, but not look so awesome that I would be afraid to actually write or sketch in it. (That’s happened to me before with fancy journals).
I haven’t sketched in ages. But I have a backup plan to fill the deficiencies up with writing.
I am a little flummoxed about what to put in first. And I wish the pages were a buff color instead of blinding white.
Wish me luck, dear readers.