When preparing for an exam, I rarely find it enough to have slides, lecture notes and a few scattered exercises in front of me. That material may contain all the information I need, but it is often fragmented: a definition is in the slides, an example is in my notes, an important explanation was given orally by the lecturer, and an exercise actually makes the concept clearer than three pages of theory. That is why, whenever possible, I try to turn everything into a single, coherent textbook, designed to be studied from beginning to end without constantly jumping between files. For me, creating a textbook does not simply mean combining documents or padding out concise notes. It means reconstructing the subject, understanding what is missing, removing repetition, making rushed steps explicit and creating a structure that will still make sense when I return to the topic months later. It takes time, but it ties directly into how I study: if I want information to stay in long-term memory, I first need to organise it clearly.

Notes are not yet a textbook

Notes serve a different purpose. During a lecture, the main aim is to record quickly what the lecturer considers important. It is therefore normal to find abbreviations, very concise lists, implicit steps and references that only make sense if you remember the explanation given in class. For example, a note might contain a phrase such as:

“ROE ↑ with leverage if ROI > i”

For someone who has just attended the lecture, the meaning may be perfectly clear. Six months later, however, that single line may not be enough to reconstruct the entire argument. In a textbook, I prefer to turn it into a complete explanation: define ROI and ROE, explain the cost of debt capital, show why leverage can increase the return on equity, and add a numerical example. Notes are for capturing information. A textbook should be for reconstructing and understanding it.

First I gather all the material

My first step is fairly simple: I try to have all potentially useful sources in front of me. These may include:

I do not automatically consider one source better than the others. Slides may be very precise but extremely concise; notes may contain a useful but incomplete explanation; a book may be detailed but devote dozens of pages to something the lecturer covers only briefly. My aim is to understand what useful information each source contains and then build a single version.

I create the contents first

One of the things I consider most important is the table of contents. Before writing dozens of pages, I try to establish the chapters and the order in which they should appear. The contents are effectively the mental structure of the subject. If I cannot build a sensible outline, it often means I do not yet understand well enough how the topics connect. I prefer a clear hierarchy: main chapters, subsections and further levels only when needed. A textbook with twenty pages of continuous prose is difficult to study even if its information is correct. The structure should immediately tell me:

where I am → what I am studying → how it connects to everything else.

I do not want an overly short summary

One thing I try to avoid is reducing everything to an excessively concise outline. Outlines are useful for final revision, but if the main material says only:

inflation → ECB → rates ↑ → demand ↓

I risk remembering a sequence without genuinely being able to explain it. In the textbook, I prefer a paragraph clarifying why higher interest rates can make credit more expensive, affect consumption and investment, and help reduce aggregate demand. Summarising should come after understanding, not replace it. That is why my textbooks tend to use more developed explanations than conventional university notes.

Every technical term should be explainable

Another criterion I use is to avoid leaving technical terms unexplained. If I introduce a term such as EBITDA, duration, the Italian controlled-realisation tax regime (realizzo controllato), or performance materiality, I want the textbook to explain sufficiently what it means and why it is used. I do not necessarily have to repeat the definition every time, but the concept should be clear when it first appears. This particularly helps when I return to the material after a long time. A textbook should be able to answer the question: “If I had almost forgotten this subject today, could I reconstruct it by reading these pages?” If understanding the textbook requires me to remember half the subject already, it is not self-contained enough.

Examples are almost always necessary

When a concept is abstract, I try to add an example. To explain the difference between profit and cash, I can use a business that makes sales of 100,000 euros but has not yet collected the receivable. To explain audit materiality, I can construct financial statements with a given level of revenue and an illustrative threshold. To explain compound interest, I can start with 10,000 euros and see what happens over time. The example should not replace theory, but make it concrete. I have noticed that I often remember the reasoning better when I can connect it to a specific numerical situation.

In quantitative subjects, theory and exercises should stay close together

In mathematics, finance or financial analysis textbooks, I try to avoid an excessive separation between “a hundred pages of theory” and “a hundred exercises at the end”. I prefer each important concept to be followed immediately by at least one application. If I explain a formula, I want to show:

This prevents the formula from remaining an abstract object to memorise. I pay particular attention to the layout of exercises. Tables, lists and data should actually be formatted as such. If an exercise presents three scenarios, four percentages and a matrix but everything is turned into a single block of text, understanding which piece of information belongs to which variable becomes much harder. That is why I consider formatting part of the content. A table is not merely more attractive: it can reveal a relationship that would be much harder to read in a paragraph. The same applies to mathematical steps. I prefer to see one transformation clearly at a time, rather than a huge formula in which it is unclear which operation has been performed.

Correcting matters more than expanding

When turning notes into a textbook, I do not assume everything I find is correct. An error in the notes can be copied into the textbook and become even more dangerous precisely because the final document looks more authoritative. I therefore try to check at least the doubtful points, especially when they concern:

If I have to choose between adding another five pages and correcting a technically wrong explanation, I always prefer the latter. A long but incorrect textbook is worse than a shorter, reliable one. Using developed prose does not mean repeating the same thing three times. When I use material from different sources, the same concept often appears in several places. In that case, I prefer to create one complete explanation and refer back to it in other chapters only when necessary. This makes the textbook much more coherent. The aim is for every page to add something, not simply increase the total page count. I also try to avoid introducing advanced concepts before their necessary prerequisites. To explain ROE, I first need to have explained at least equity and profit. Before discussing duration, readers need to understand a bond's price and yield. Before explaining directors' liability following a loss of capital, readers need to understand share capital, equity and grounds for dissolution. A good textbook should almost guide its readers by the hand. Each chapter should mainly use tools already developed in previous chapters.

I include questions because I want to use the textbook for revision

Once the theoretical part is sufficiently complete, I like to add questions. They may be oral exam questions, multiple-choice quizzes, true/false questions or exercises. This turns the textbook from a document to read into a tool for testing myself. It is particularly useful because it connects to how I try to transfer information into long-term memory. I do not just want to reread an explanation; I want to close the page and ask myself whether I can reconstruct it. Questions therefore provide almost a second function for the textbook.

I separate the construction stage from the revision stage

A complete textbook can be long. That does not mean I necessarily have to reread every single line the day before the exam. The initial stage helps me understand and build a complete foundation. Later, I can create outlines, questions and more concise selections for revision. For me, it is important to have both: complete material for understanding and retrieving knowledge, and concise material for quick revision. If I try to make the same document serve both purposes, I often end up with a compromise that works well neither as a textbook nor as an outline.

A well-made textbook is useful after the exam too

This is probably the main reason I invest time in building the material. If I finish an exam and throw away all my notes, I have to start from scratch whenever that subject comes up again. With an organised textbook, however, I can reopen it a year later and retrieve what I studied very quickly. For example, a subject such as business administration may come up again in financial reporting, finance, auditing or even a practical work situation. Having a document in which I know exactly where to find a concept saves me a great deal of time. The textbook therefore also becomes a small personal knowledge base. Naturally, building all this takes longer than simply reading the slides. The benefit emerges later.

Studying coherent material makes revision faster, helps memorisation and reduces the time needed to revisit the subject in the future. It is therefore a form of investment: I spend more time at the beginning to save time later. This approach makes particular sense for subjects I consider important to my development and know I may encounter again.

Not every course needs a hundred-page textbook

Naturally, I also try to avoid the opposite extreme. It would make no sense to turn every small 3-credit module into an encyclopaedia. The depth should be proportionate to the exam, its difficulty and the subject's future usefulness. For some subjects, twenty very well-written pages may be enough. For others, fifty, a hundred or more pages may make perfect sense. For me, the question is not: “How long should it be?” but: “Does it contain everything I need to understand, prepare for the exam and revisit the subject in the future without constantly relying on other sources?”

Layout is part of the method too

A textbook I will use for many hours needs to be readable. I therefore look for clear headings, paragraphs that are not excessively fragmented, tables where necessary, readable formulas and enough space between sections without creating almost empty pages. I dislike documents that look long only because they contain enormous blank spaces. Length should come from the content. The same applies to lists: if there is a genuine list of items, I want them actually separated and readable, rather than all inserted into one continuous sentence. Form should help the brain recognise the structure of the content.

How I would transform three lines of notes

Imagine starting with this note: “Inflation: prices rise. ECB raises rates. More expensive credit, less demand.” In the textbook, I would not simply make the sentence artificially longer. I would try to reconstruct the reasoning. I would explain that inflation is a generalised increase in the price level; that a central bank can respond by raising policy rates; that this tends to feed through to the cost of credit for households and businesses; that more expensive financing can reduce debt-financed consumption and investment; and that lower aggregate demand can help reduce inflationary pressures. At that point, I might add a final outline:

high inflation → rates ↑ → more expensive credit → demand ↓ → price pressures ↓

The difference is that the outline now represents something I already understand.

When I consider a chapter finished

For me, a chapter is sufficiently complete when I can do three things. First, read it without finding passages that assume knowledge never explained. Second, answer the main questions on the topic using almost exclusively that material. Third, reopen it after some time and quickly reconstruct the reasoning. If any of these three things is missing, the document probably still needs work.

A textbook does not replace studying

There is an important distinction, however. Building a textbook can create a powerful feeling of productivity: headings, tables and explanations are tidied up, and everything looks organised. But having a beautiful document does not mean having learned its content. After construction comes the most important part: recalling, rehearsing, asking questions, solving exercises and simulating the exam. The textbook is the infrastructure for studying. It is not studying itself.

Conclusion

For me, turning concise notes into a proper textbook means transforming fragmented information into a structure that can be understood, memorised and retrieved over time. I start with the available material, create a contents outline, check the information, expand overly concise explanations, add examples, arrange exercises and tables, and finally develop questions that let me use the textbook for active revision too. I am therefore not simply trying to produce a longer document. I am trying to create the document I wish I had had in front of me when I began studying that subject. The question I ask myself is not: “How do I turn these notes into fifty pages?” but: “What is missing for someone to start with these pages and arrive at a genuine understanding of the topic?”

For me, that is the difference between tidy notes and a proper study textbook. Above all, it is why I keep creating them: an exam ends, but a good textbook can remain useful for years.

Note: this article describes my personal method of organising my studies. Not all subjects require the same depth, and the material's structure should be adapted to the type of exam and the student's goals.