It’s no secret I’m a huge proponent of journaling. My bullet journal keeps my head on straight, my art journal is hands-on emotional therapy, and I’ve been enjoying keeping my reading journal all year, tracking my reading challenges.
I love that social media as a whole encourages journal-keepers to share their journals, and I’ve been inspired by others–but turning journals into performance can compromise their usefulness, sometimes.
The most important piece of advice I’ve seen for writers is to have a journal they keep that no one, literally no one, ever reads.
My husband gave me this leather journal and fountain pen for my birthday in May, and that’s when I decided to try that advice. For a month and a half, I’ve been trying to (and mostly succeeding at) writing a page a day.
I top each page with a page number, the date, the weather. Sometimes I tack on a few words about my mood, too, especially if I’m in a foul one over something.
Then I fill the page with whatever the f*** I want.
I’ve played word games with myself. I’ve scribbled down my dreams and nightmares when I can remember them. I’ve done observational exercises, noting down every detail of my surroundings. I’ve ranted about being frustrated with my current projects. I’ve been a total creeper and written down everything I could remember about that gorgeous woman I saw at the Subway who might very well end up a character model for a future project.
And I can do that, because no one is going to see it.
Obviously, I have no innate problem with journal sharing, or I wouldn’t be doing it, but it is incredibly freeing to have a space that’s entirely private. I recommend giving it a try!