This post was originally written for and published on my Substack in May 2026 – read it here
I have a Notion section that is, objectively, a mess.
There are articles I bookmarked months ago sitting next to things I read in a newsletter last week. Quotes I found randomly and copied and pasted in there because I knew I’d lose them otherwise, essays that made me feel weirdly emotional and just had to save and read again, posts from accounts I’d forgotten I followed and probably stopped following a long time ago – I just really loved what they said that one time.
I call it my digital scrapbook, and I’m convinced it’s one of the most useful creative tools I have – not because it makes me productive (if anything, the absolute contrary) but because it tells me the truth about who I am and what I actually care about. Which, if you’ve ever stared at a blank content calendar thinking ‘but what do I even post about’, is quite useful information to have.
‘I don’t know what to create.’ Now you do.
Here’s something we creative types with ten half-finished ideas and no idea which one to pursue often say to those wondering why we’re not using social media to share our work with the world: ‘I just don’t know what to post.’
I myself have probably said that phrase out loud a hundred times whenever someone wanted to know why I’m not sharing my blog, books, Substack, and overall love for words that makes me both a decent writer and a relatively annoying human to sit next to.
And I get it. It sounds like a simple problem, but it’s actually quite disorienting when you’re the one having it. Because you know you’re interested in things, you know you have opinions, you know there are ideas rattling around in there – you just can’t seem to grab them. They feel too vague, or too obvious, or too niche, or not niche enough, or just very much like something seventeen other people are already doing better.
What I’ve found – from my own experience, and from paying very close attention in the last year to how other creators talk about this – is that the problem usually isn’t a lack of ideas. It’s actually a lack of self-knowledge. You don’t yet know, clearly enough, what you’re drawn to and what consistently moves you. What you return to again and again even when no one’s asking you to.
And the fastest way to figure that out isn’t to stare harder at a blank page. It’s to look at what you’ve already been quietly collecting.
The digital scrapbook (let me explain)
A digital scrapbook is exactly what it sounds like: a place where you save the things that catch your attention online. Articles you actually finished (go you!) because they were so good. Videos you watched twice. Podcast episodes you recommended to someone you love. Quotes you copied out so you wouldn’t lose them. Posts that made you stop scrolling.
It’s not a reading list (those tend to become graveyards of good intentions) and it’s not bookmarks you forget about. It’s an active, living thing – something you revisit, refine, and add to over time, with a bit of intention behind it.
Mine lives in Notion – one parent page with over fifty child pages inside it, each one a different rabbit hole, a different season of obsession, a different corner of the internet I fell into and couldn’t just leave.
Some I haven’t touched in months because I’ve lost interest (felt interesting, will delete later), others I keep coming back to, rearranging, adding to. It has sections by theme. It has originals alongside pieces I’ve borrowed and made my own – rewritten, edited, patched up with my own thoughts until they stopped being someone else’s and started being mine.
But honestly, the organisation matters less than the habit of saving things in one place and actually going back to read them. The reading-back part is everything. As for good housekeeping – well, I’m a Virgo. It just comes with the territory :)
What it teaches you
When you consistently save the things that resonate with you and then look at them over time, patterns start to emerge that you genuinely couldn’t have predicted.
For example, you start to notice that you keep saving things about a very specific topic – one you hadn’t consciously identified as your thing. You notice that certain writing styles make you feel alive in a way that others don’t.
You notice that you’re drawn to a particular kind of tone and that this is probably, not coincidentally, the kind of voice you want to write in – warm, self-aware, conversational, and a little self-deprecating in my case. I spent too many years in the UK, what can I say?
You discover what bores you. What lights you up. What you find yourself wanting to argue with, or agree with so hard it’s almost embarrassing. All of this is data – the kind that comes from your gut rather than a strategy session.
And it’s data about you, which is ultimately the most useful thing when you’re trying to figure out what you have to offer the world as a creator.
And then there are the days your brain goes quiet
There’s another thing a digital scrapbook is quietly brilliant for: the days when you sit down to create something and your brain is just… empty.
This happens to everyone. It happens to the people who look like they have endless ideas. It happens to writers who’ve been writing for years. Inspiration is not a tap you can turn on – not that we ever really stop trying. It’s more like… weather. Mostly you can’t control it, you just have to work with whatever’s happening. (And… try harder? Probably not, but oh well.)
On the flat, grey, uninspired days, having an archive to rummage through is the best. It helps you remember what kinds of things move you when you find yourself believing nothing does.
A sentence that sparks something. An idea you saved eight months ago that you suddenly see in a new light. And so on, until… oh, would you look at that? You tried and it kind of worked.
Your scrapbook becomes a conversation you’re having with yourself across time. And past-you, it turns out, was quite smart about what she saved. (Don’t believe me? There’s a reason we’re all romanticising our 2016 Instagram era again.)
How to actually build a digital scrapbook
Keep it simple. Pick one place – Notion, Notes, a new folder on your desktop, whatever you’ll actually use – and start saving things there when they catch your attention. Don’t overthink the organisation at first. Just build the habit of saving first, filing later.
The real practice is in revisiting it. Set aside a bit of time every couple of weeks to scroll through, read things you saved, notice what still resonates and what doesn’t. Delete the things that no longer feel relevant – your tastes will evolve, and the scrapbook should evolve with them.
And then: use it. Keep the pieces that still move you, whether as inspiration or as raw material. Rework them, rephrase them, push them somewhere new. Mix and match until what started as someone else’s idea has become, through all the editing, completely your own – steal like an artist, as they say. Just don’t forget to credit the original where it’s due. An idea doesn’t have to be original to be worth sharing. This is the internet; we all inspire each other. And we all support each other, ok?
Over time, you’ll start to see yourself more clearly. You’ll know what you’re drawn to. You’ll know what kind of creator you want to be. And you’ll have an archive to draw from when the blank page feels impossible.
It’s not a strategy. It’s something better – self-knowledge, built slowly, one saved article at a time. What do you think?
Anca x
Thank you for reading. All of my writing here and on Substack is offered free to all readers, but if you want to support my work further, you can upgrade to a paid subscription or buy me a coffee.
Something on your mind?