A Blank Journal
Is a journal the same as a diary? I believe a journal is an expanded diary. It includes feelings, problems, emotions, reflections and more. A journal need not give explicit descriptions of where the writer went and what she/he did although those things can be included. In a nutshell, consider that the journal is the more personal of the two.
There are writers who look at a blank white page like the one above with sheer terror. Good grief! What am I going to write on that page? Others, like me, find it greatly appealing. I consider it a fresh start, a place where I can write whatever I wish.
We have talked here more than once about Julia Cameron's Morning Pages. She encourages writers to spend some time at the beginning of each day writing their thoughts in longhand, letting thoughts flow ceaselessly. It's similar to a free write word prompt exercise where we write continuously for 10 minutes without stopping to think. The object is to let your mind open and give you the words to write.
You might wonder how to begin your journal or Morning Pages. You could begin with a description of the weather or how you're feeling physically or something about the cup of coffee or smoothie you're drinking as you write. All we need to do is begin and then let the thoughts flow naturally. You needn't spend a long time. 10 or 15 minutes will garner more words than you could imagine if you write without stopping to think about what you're writing. Can't get it done on a busy morning? Try it later in the day but don't skip it.
Keeping a journal is a gift to yourself and perhaps to your family many years from now. You're leaving them an intimate look about your thoughts and feelings. We've read books and seen movies that are based on a journal someone kept long ago. Some books are even written in journal style. As we read the thoughts of the person writing, a story begins to emerge as well as the character of the writer. Maybe you don't want anyone to ever, ever read what you've written. That's your choice. When I suggest that your family might consider it a gift, I don't mean to share your writing pages with them on a regular basis. When I'm no longer living, I wouldn't mind a bit if my family reads my thoughts. It might mean something to them. I hope it does.
Whether you term your daily writing a journal or Morning Pages, the one thing that matters is that you are writing on a daily basis. It's possible that no story idea will ever come from what you've recorded in your journal. That's alright. You have written something; you have checked your innermost thoughts; you have taken a good look at you the person, you the writer, you the family member. It's also possible that the seed of a personal essay is sown or the idea for a short sotry.
Keeping a journal becomes a habit. It's up to you to work at establishing the habit. Give it a month or two. Julia Cameron suggests 3 pages in longhand but if you write half a page on Monday and 4 pages on Tuesday, that's fine. There are no hard and fast rules on journaling. Just do it! After a couple of months, assess what it has (or has not) done for you the person and you as a writer.
Addition: Yesterday's post about thoughts of giving up writing brought a comment and poem from Terry Needham, one of our Guest Bloggers from last week. He has given me permission to share it with you.
Self doubt--
Writing feels like digging a ditch.
You take shovel in hand,
Bend over, shove blade hard into dirt,
Your back begins to ache,
Sweat breaks out on your brow,
And, you could really use a drink, as
Self-doubt whispers in your ear,
Until the shovel is full of words,
Pitched over your shoulder into a pile.
The pile of words slowly grows,
But the ditch seems to go on forever . . .
And you wonder if it will ever end,
And, Hell . . . does the world really need
One more ditch . . . or another pile of words?
10.26.2013 – T. L. Needham
Writing feels like digging a ditch.
You take shovel in hand,
Bend over, shove blade hard into dirt,
Your back begins to ache,
Sweat breaks out on your brow,
And, you could really use a drink, as
Self-doubt whispers in your ear,
Until the shovel is full of words,
Pitched over your shoulder into a pile.
The pile of words slowly grows,
But the ditch seems to go on forever . . .
And you wonder if it will ever end,
And, Hell . . . does the world really need
One more ditch . . . or another pile of words?
10.26.2013 – T. L. Needham