What are words worth?

It’s a little over a week since my sabbatical leave began. “I envy you,” said a colleague I ran into at a city event a few days into the week. “So, what have you planned?” asked another. “You should just take it easy,” said a third, striking a welcome note but clearly in the minority. I veer dangerously from wanting to take the last piece of advice seriously to wanting to make sure I execute every word of the detailed plan I had submitted in order to win this year off. A sabbatical is an opportunity to slow down and do the things that most academics complain they never have time to do during the regular school year: read, reflect, write. Those three words that attracted me to this job in the first place. Yes, I love the teaching too, but once in a while it’s good to get a break from the daily grind of lectures and grading. People outside academia look at the idea of a sabbatical somewhat enviously and some see it as an indulgence— time off with pay that doesn’t get co...

Nothing sets off the fantasy of literary creation like a blank notebook. The fancier, the better. I have my own set of unrealised fantasies unwritten in the pages of a number of beautifully inspirational notebooks. Pages that are smooth, textured, handmade, machine-pressed, ruled, plain, white or coloured. I'm one of those who cannot pass by a Moleskine display without feeling an acquisitive twinge. Just as some people collect shoes and handbags, I collect notebooks. This weekend, I spent some time cleaning out my shelves and was amazed at the number that emerged, some entirely blank and others with a few pages used. In sum, they seemed to represent a whole lot of aspiration and very little work. The aesthetic of the bound empty pages seems to work in a particular way to drive my imagination--and so I spend a good few minutes looking at the inviting blankness, thinking of how they will look in a few months, filled with violet (or black, or blue) ink. I imagine that all those...