Finally. Finally, piece number 31, the end of my sixth month of writing these everyday pieces for Marta’s blog. I never think I can make it through the month at some point (at many points, actually), but then I do. This piece is a bit of cheat I suppose since I’m writing about feeling like I can’t write. As I have mentioned at least once during these six (non-consecutive) months, writing every day isn’t new for me. I’ve kept a journal in a Word file since 2006, one file for each year, so I’m on my 19th year of daily journal writing. I wrote in journals before 2006, but by hand, in bound blank journal books, but they were very hit and miss. I’d write for a few days, then stop for months, then write a bit more. Most of the paper journals are only half, at best, full. But (and again, I’ve written this before in an entry in some other month), my journals are very different from the writing I do here, full of notes for things to do, obsessions about my weight and health, accounts of difficulties with my son, financial worries, that sort of thing. They are very private and I would never show them to anyone. I actually don’t even consider them writing, more a kind of morning ritual, like reading the New York Times or doing the crossword puzzle. The writing I do here for this blog is written to be read, wouldn’t exist without you all, my fellow writers and readers.
I loved the description of the handwritten journals -- many only half-filled, written sporadically, housed on shelves -- and comparing them to the daily journal kept in computer files, and to the writing that is written to be read. Thank you for the many many exquisitely rendered pieces you have created, detailing emotion, experience and the physical world.
ReplyDeleteI too have shelves full of journals with just the stuff you wrote about...hand written and therefor somewhat incomprehensible. Have loved following your journey and insights and beautiful writing,
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