Lately my home has been filled to capacity with people and paper. People come and go, but the paper, books and art materials seem to take on a life fo their own. I've been purging my collection, which actually feels very theraputic, but I've quite a way to go. It's just that I love researching things. True, I can get a bit carried away with reams of paper and assorted books piling up around me. I haunt library book sales and love the smell of books, old and new. When I was a child I would walk to the library and stock up for the week. The first book I remember taking home at the age of six was Norse Mythology. To this day I am intrigued by myth and legend. History is right up there on the fave list. I tried to organize my note taking by using beautiful journals and notebooks, but somehow I always go back to huge spiral bound notebooks that students use for school. I end up pasting notes and sketches all over the pages if I happen to use napkins or receipts for my musings. Everybody finds what works for them. Kind of.
My notes for Poe are mingled with my vampire novel. He'll soon have his own spirally book.
I've also started to consolidate notes on the Siberian Ice Maiden which have been multiplying at an alarming rate. I wonder what Siberia is like this time of year?
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