Writing Notebook Inspiration: Oliver Jeffers
- Jun 29
- 2 min read
Hey Stranger,
One of my favorite things about listening to authors talk about their process is realizing that stories rarely arrive all at once.
I recently watched children's author and illustrator Oliver Jeffers share how he writes his books, and one detail stayed with me long after the video ended. He carries a writer's notebook with him wherever he goes.
Not because he's always writing.
But because he knows inspiration has a funny way of showing up when we least expect it.
A conversation overheard in a coffee shop.A question from a child.A strange cloud.A funny phrase.A memory that suddenly returns.
Rather than trusting himself to remember, he gives those tiny sparks a place to live until they're ready to grow into something more.
I love this because it reminds us that writing doesn't begin when we sit down at a desk.
Writing begins with noticing.
This is something we can nurture in children from the very beginning. Long before they write paragraphs or stories, they can become collectors of ideas. They can draw a picture of something they noticed on a walk. They can dictate a funny sentence they thought of at bedtime. They can tape in a leaf, a ticket stub, or a photograph that reminds them of a moment they don't want to forget.
A writer's notebook isn't just a notebook.
It's a place that quietly says: "Your ideas matter."
So often children believe that "real writing" happens only when a teacher gives them an assignment. But the most meaningful writing often begins long before that—in the everyday moments when curiosity taps us on the shoulder.
Imagine giving every child a small notebook and saying,
"This is where you keep the things you don't want to lose."
Not homework.
Not perfect sentences.
Just wonder.
Some pages might stay empty for days. Others might fill with sketches, lists, questions, overheard conversations, or a single sentence that one day becomes an entire story.
Because that's how many writers work.
They notice.
They collect.
They return.
They grow.
Perhaps the greatest gift we can give young writers isn't another prompt or worksheet.
Perhaps it's permission to become observers of the world, carrying a little notebook that reminds them every day:
Stories are everywhere. You just have to notice them.
With Love, Maria
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