I love notebooks. I mean, I can’t get enough of them. Big ones, small ones, ones with spirals sewn through them, serious ones dressed all in black, and ones that look like they should have a fiesta hat on them.

I wander down the aisle of notebooks and they seem to be whispering my name.

Only one problem. Once I have one in my hand, I am afraid to begin writing in it. I feel like I might mess something up and have to scratch it out in the brand-new notebook. I feel like I would fail the notebook.

My hand shakes as I decide what the notebook should be used for. What great and noble purpose shall its pages be filled with? What if I can’t keep going until the notebook’s last page? What will become of that last, lonely page?!

And I close the notebook, put it back on the shelf and scurry away before I make a mistake on such a beautiful creation.

My notebook dilemma.