Your appointments, tasks and notes on a single spread, and a place for every thought that drifts by. Write it down and give your head some room.
Click a line and write. Nothing is saved, it’s your scratch paper.
What Carnet isn’t
You get further when your head is settled. Carnet doesn’t push you, it gives you room. No dashboard, no red badges, no notification at 7 a.m. Paper, ink, and your hand.
Your head isn’t messy. It’s full.
What you’re missing isn’t one more system. It’s a place to set things down, so they stop going around in circles. Once they’re on paper, they don’t weigh the same.
You’re deep in work. A thought drifts by: call Paul back, an idea for an article, a worry about Thursday. Anywhere else, you’d have to give it a project, a date, a tag. So you don’t write it down, and it stays there, circling. In Carnet, every thought already has a place.
Seven boxes on one spread. A task gets a day, not a time.
It waits there, in sight, without rushing you. You slide it onto a day when the time comes.
An idea, a quote, a detail worth keeping. No status, no due date.
Putting it all here, I’ll sort it later…
A free page every day to empty your head. Whatever deserves its own page gets one , and there’s always a blank page after the last.
Structure for what’s certain. Space for the rest.
80% structure to steady you, 20% freedom to breathe.
Elsewhere, the planner holds your appointments and tasks, and your notes go off to another app. Two apps open, notes scattered everywhere, and the one you need is nowhere to be found. In Carnet, your notes sit next to your week, and one word brings them back.
The Notes box on the spread, for the sentence you don’t want to lose. No title, no folder. You write, it’s down.
A meeting, an idea that’s growing, a reading list: open a page in the day and write. It flips like a notebook, with headings, lists and checkboxes.
Nothing to file, nothing to set up. Type a word, the page comes up, you open it. ⌘K, and that’s it.
A small make-believe notebook. Type a word, or try a suggestion.
Enough to write everything down. Never enough to get lost.
No blocks, no databases, no second app.
A dark cover, two cream pages, ink. Nothing blinks, nothing begs for your attention. You open Carnet the way you’d open a notebook.
No confetti. The X stays in ink, the text turns gray, and what’s left to do stands out on its own. Nobody congratulates an X. You just leave it there.
The planner stays plain. Three highlighters are yours, to mark what matters. Everything else is in ink.
About what a nice paper notebook costs. Except this one never fills up, and it follows you to every screen.

“What worked on paper, now in your pocket.”
Carnet grew out of Elyane’s paper notebook: one spread per week, bullet journal marks, and margins for everything else. Not a method, an object.
What worked on paper, we kept. What paper couldn’t do (remember, sync, read your calendar, find a page from a single word), we added. Nothing more.
A blank spread is waiting for you.