In this special Mark+Fold Long Read, journalist Rosamund Dean joins us as guest writer to share her thoughts on reclaiming her attention and rediscovering the calm of pen and paper.
Imagine if anyone in your life treated you in the way your phone does. Relentlessly interrupting you, feeding you bad news, tempting you with things you don’t need, and demanding your attention at all hours. You would find it exhausting to spend time with that person and probably avoid them at all costs.
Our digital devices are, of course, useful. They help us find the quickest route home, remind us of dentist appointments, and let us share pictures of our children with grandparents who live far away. But at some point, we stopped using our devices and started letting them use us.
It can feel that we’re being very productive on our phones; replying to emails, putting plans in the calendar, making notes of ideas for future projects, keeping on top of our kids’ school admin, tapping on that link for “research”… and doing Wordle is productive because it’s a workout for your brain, right? Right? The truth is, this “busy work” is not the way to achieve anything of substance. It’s ineffective and cognitively exhausting to keep flitting between (often unnecessary) tasks.
We think that we have the self-control to put our phones down at any point. But human beings are designed to be distracted - it’s part of what kept us safe when we lived in more dangerous times - and our phones are designed to distract us. Being annoyed at ourselves for losing time to our phones is like being annoyed at your cat for killing a mouse: it’s our nature. And the apps on our phones are purpose-built to capture and monetise our attention. It’s not a lack of willpower; it’s an unequal battle.
So I’ve decided to change the rules of engagement. I’m investing in a quality paper diary because, as the writer Oliver Burkeman told me when I interviewed him earlier this year, the tools we use for our daily activities do matter.
“I'm not in favour of the approach that says: ‘You don’t need a nice notebook to be a writer,’” he told me. “Yes, focusing on that can go too far, leading to avoidance and procrastination. We’ve all had that experience of focusing on getting all the equipment rather than doing the actual thing. But the pleasure you get from the nice notebook can make you more likely to do the creative project.”
I’ve thought about that a lot. The pleasure of using something beautiful - a week-view diary with 120gsm paper and thread-sewn layflat binding - is not a superficial indulgence. It’s a form of motivation. When you enjoy the tool, you’re more likely to use it with care. And when you write things down by hand, it feels more real. You commit to it differently. Your own messy handwriting, doodles and notes in the margin are signs of a mind at work rather than a machine in motion.
So this year I’m investing in a paper diary, and it’s going to be the first step towards a more analogue lifestyle.
A paper notebook will replace the Notes app on my phone, where so many ideas are written down and then forgotten. I’m going to remember to wear my watch, so I no longer have to look at my phone for the time. How often do you do that, only to get drawn into a WhatsApp chat about a night out that’s happening in a month’s time? Ten minutes later, you can’t remember why you picked up your phone in the first place.
And then there are the photos. I love taking pictures of my kids, but I don’t love that I’m always pointing a phone at them. It creates a barrier, a subtle shift in energy. They see me looking at a device instead of at them. One of those cute little Polaroid cameras is coming on our next family holiday. The pictures will be fewer and blurrier, but somehow more alive.
And finally, I’m going to always carry a book in my handbag. I’m old enough to remember the days when everyone on the tube would be reading a book or a newspaper. I intend to reignite my habit of reading by having an alternative to scrolling through my phone while travelling.
Of course, this isn’t about perfection. We might have jobs where we need to be contactable all day, and calendars that constantly change. I rely on digital reminders for meetings, too. But it’s about building boundaries around that, rather than letting it seep into every waking moment. The aim isn’t to become a saint of self-discipline - it’s to reclaim a sense of agency.
There will be days when I’ll shut my phone in a drawer to concentrate on focused work, only to realise that I need it for two-step verification on some work software, and next thing I know, I’m scrolling. That’s fine. I won’t let perfect be the enemy of good. Progress is made in the pauses - the moments when you notice yourself drifting, and gently redirect your attention to what matters.
I’ve started to notice that, in this small shift toward paper, there’s a broader sense of calm. Writing down appointments and deadlines in ink forces me to slow down, to think about what I’m agreeing to before it fills my week. The phone calendar makes it all too easy to overcommit - tapping “accept” without considering the mental load that comes with it. The paper diary asks me to pause and look. To ask: Do I really have the space for that? Do I want to make the space?
Time is the most precious commodity we have. Yet, when our attention is fragmented, it slips away unnoticed. We might think we’re optimising, but often we’re just reacting to other people’s priorities.
So perhaps this is an invitation - to myself, and to anyone else who feels permanently half-distracted - to slow down. To rediscover the satisfaction of doing one thing at a time. To make 2026 the year that we create space for what really matters. That, surely, is worth pencilling in.
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