Journaling Rambles by Joylene M. Bailey

Photo courtesy of Pixabay

Wow, the 20^th of the month is here again! How did that happen?  Again, I’m stumped for what to write for InScribe Writers Online. Why do I always feel like I have nothing to contribute?

This month's topic is journaling and writer's notebooks. Oh boy. I wish I were a more consistent journaler. I might actually have something to share then. But I’m more of a spurtster, like Glynis.

Hmmm, it looks like a lot of the writers this month have several journals for different things. Me too! Only, so many of my journals had great beginnings and then petered out.  I have a whole drawerful of enticing journals, just waiting to be filled.

I love journals - give me a journal and you’re my friend for life. And I love the idea of journaling everyday, sitting in a fragrant and shady corner of my yard on a sun-dappled day putting down words of beauty, encouragement, wisdom and wit. In reality that’s not what happens at all.

Oh man, do I have anything at all to share on this topic? Let’s see, what do I seem to be writing down these days?

Oh! I have that quote notebook I have been keeping for years. I wonder if that counts. I also started that JOY journal – in fact I think I started two … No, those aren’t even worth mentioning.

I guess I do have my prayer/devotional journal that includes sermon and teaching notes. But then when Sweetie called in the middle of the night to say the twins were born, that was the nearest paper to hand, and I opened to the back page to write down the little boys’ names, weights, times of birth, what the names meant, and even how long she pushed for each one! Then I took that journal to Manitoba when I went to help with the twins, and continued from the back to the front, writing little rhyming verses and songs for 3-year-old Little Man. Now I even have jot notes for blog posts in there and a whole list of Edmonton Sites to See This Summer. Again, back to front. What kind of journal is that?

There must be another legitimate journal that’s worth sharing about …

I have that junk-drawer-journal. Everything but the kitchen sink in that one. Anybody else reading it would be so confused. Email addresses, books I want to read, somebody’s very detailed dream, accounting figures, lists, quotes, passwords, definitions, schedules, flight times … You name it, it’s in there. Nah, this journal would never count.

I did start “Morning Pages”, as suggested by Julia Cameron in The Artist’s Way. I appreciated that exercise, I think I’d like to get back to that. I also love the sound of an Artist’s Daybook that Sandi Somers mentioned in her post. It has a nice ring to it. Yes, “Morning Pages” and my Artist’s Daybook, those will be goals for my summer writing.

But to get back to my journal post … The only valid journal I might be able to share about is my In the Coffee Shop, In the Library one I started in September as an exercise to get me out of the house when I was on doctor’s orders to rest. It was fun to just sit and write down observations in coffee shops and libraries, and a good exercise in coming up with the right words on the spot. But then came surgery, 6 weeks of recovery, and then right away off to look after grandchildren, including the newborns. I haven’t written in that thing for at least 3 months.

It seems I’m not currently journaling at all.

So, it’s finally happened … I have absolutely nothing to contribute this month. Zilch. Zero.

I might as well go find the topic for next month and get a head start on that.

****************

Joylene journals about not journaling from her home in Edmonton where she is resting up after 6 weeks of looking after grandchildren. 
Find more of her writing at Scraps of Joy.

Painting a Sentence by Eunice Matchett

Spring is such a lovely season, but along with all its loveliness comes a truckload of work. Each year I do one major project beyond the normal planting and weeding. This year, my major undertaking was painting the fence.

As I evaluated the weathered boards, my mind wandered to my writing projects that were weeks behind schedule. From there, my thoughts zoomed into sentence structure and my unpainted fence morphed into a sentence.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with the fence. It served its purpose by offering privacy, keeping the neighbourhood dogs out, and most of the time, my cats in. But it was drab. And boring. Just like a first draft sentence.

I went to work pulling out branches that had grown through the cracks between the boards much the same way I slash goes without saying words in a sentence. The fence appeared taller, but dry leaves and brittle pine needles littered the two-by-fours to which the boards were nailed. As I brushed away the dead foliage it reminded me of how the over use of fluffy words and words ending with ing or ly cluttered a sentence, making it difficult to comprehend.  This done, I checked all the boards to make sure their nails were still holding them fast. It made me think of how necessary conjunctions are to hold a sentence together.

Now, I’m ready for the paint. But what kind of paint? Just as a sentence requires precise words, my fence needs the right paint. The clerk in the local hardware store showed me exactly what I needed. Then, dressed in old tube top and shorts, a can of paint in one hand and a brush in the other, I began my task. Hours later, my arms ached, my skin burned, but I’d finished one side of one side of my fence. I stepped back to admire my handiwork. My throat throbbed. All my loving swishes had left light spots all over the fence.

Just like your sentence crept into my thoughts. Those light spots are weak words you allowed to remain in a sentence rather than taking time to search for stronger ones. I took a deep breath and returned to the spot where I started. Before laziness could overwhelm my thoughts, I dipped my brush into the paint and applied another coat.

In half the time it took to apply the first coat, I’d completed the second. My arms ached twice as much, and I think the sun had removed the top layer of my skin, but I’d finished. Again. I stepped away, gingerly this time. But it wasn’t necessary. A perfect fence section stood in front of me. Not one light spot. Not one knot hole exposing naked wood. No loose boards or painted-over pine needle. My fence sang. Just as well thought out and strategically placed words make a sentence dance, properly applied paint to my weathered fence gave my whole yard a fresh, new life.

It's In the Journey - by Gloria Guest

I first started journaling in my Bible College days and when I think back to why that might have been, I think it was because I finally felt like I was in a safe place; a place where I felt safer to explore my feelings and thoughts. However, knowing what I do now, I was woefully out of touch with those feelings and all that would need to come to the surface in the coming years (thank goodness I did not know) but still, looking back I can see that it was my ‘start’ to the journey of healing and coming to know ‘me’ and who I really was.

I continued journaling into my early years as a new wife and mother. Peeking back into those journals is another glimpse into my development as a person; a little more in touch with some things but there was still very much hidden and undisclosed. Of course I can now read between those lines and see very much what was going on in my heart at the time, that I just couldn’t quite put into words. But I’m proud of that young woman  for trying; for searching, for hoping and dreaming even if I wasn’t quite sure what I was hoping for.

After that, my journaling became more sporadic as life began to take on a dizzying pace for me with the accompanying stress. We were a young farm family barely eking out a living. We were living on the same farm yard as my in-laws and I did not have a close bond with my mother-in-law. When my mother died when she was only 48 years old, it seemed to be the catalyst for my submerged childhood emotions and trauma to begin rising more to the surface. I started going through a crisis in just about every area of my life; physically, emotionally, spiritually. I did manage to reach out for a life line and began seeing a counsellor; something that continued for many years. Through those years as I said, I journalled sporadically and when I did I found it therapeutic and calming. But soon after a deep family secret from my childhood emerged; one that sent me reeling and one that eventually led to my younger sister committing suicide. Sometime during those crisis days my journaling ended . I recall reaching for it one day and reading some recent entries that were filled with darkness and bitterness and feeling ill at the thought that someone might one day come across them. Worse yet, reading those words I was sure if I continued that God might strike me down with lightning! Should I burn them? I seriously considered it but it felt like a betrayal of that younger woman who had tried so hard. And so I decided to simply close them, hide them away and never look at them or write in them again.

Where I am now? Thankfully I’ve made much progress coming through those dark times although it never fails to amaze me how many more layers there can be where childhood trauma is concerned. All I know is that God has led me through it all and I haven’t yet been struck down by lightning!

Recently while taking two U of T Creative Writing Classes I was encouraged and in one class, ‘required’ to journal. That was a challenge for me. It helped that it was free-style so we could write on any subject we chose just as long as we wrote steady for ten minutes a day. And so I chose my subjects carefully and wrote. And enjoyed it. And felt a new found freedom coming back into my writing. Since then, I admit I still did not start journaling on my own. But I haven’t forgotten about it. It’s niggled in my mind as something that I might like to do again. And then came this month’s Inscribe blog topic. I’ve read the entries by everyone else with trepidation and interest. Slowly, over the month I’ve become intrigued again with the idea of journaling and so today, on Father’s Day I made a new entry. I’d like to share a bit of it here:

“June 18, 2017. Today is Father’s Day as I sit down to write in this journal six years from the last entry. I haven’t seen him (my father) for almost thirty years now. There are no words to fill in a blank that big – maybe someday I will try – but for today all I want to say is….I’ve noticed an imperceptible change in myself these past weeks. In the past, whenever I’ve felt cornered into explaining his absence in my life I would say things like;

“I choose not to see him.”
“I had to separate myself from him.”
“I haven’t seen him in (fill in the blank) years.”
"I…I….I…" And I always walked away feeling guilty and to blame.

But lately I’ve felt free to say it slightly different.

“My father chose to not be a part of my life.”
So true. That’s what happened. I was willing to reconcile (which takes two people who truly want to face the truth) but he wanted to continue his lies and abuse. It was that simple. So I chose to move on so I could grow. He was the one who let go.
Thank you God that you never did let go – of me – or him.
I write this in a journal with the Footprints poem on the front. So fitting. You’ve carried me through so much when I felt like I couldn’t’ take even one more step. I know you will continue. It’s all in the journey and I’m so thankful that You are on this journey with me.

Notebooks for every occasion - by Rohadi

Notebooks for every occasion. Never leave home without one. That and pens. Never leave home without a pen. The last thing you want to do is scrounge up a pencil from your car, or a ballpoint from the bank. 

When it comes to notebook selection some things matter and others don't. I’m more lenient on what qualifies as a “notebook” as I've been in the past, opting to accept the electronic variety in a pinch. 

Here’s a snapshot of of both process and hobby when it comes to selecting my writing tools.

• Every new book project gets it’s own notebook. Not just any notebook mind you. Utility has to outweigh beauty. Thick pages that can take ink from the fountain pen (usually the quickest pen so long as it doesn't skip) without bleeding through. They can be short, 48 pages maybe, and small, 5x5 perhaps.
• Meandering thoughts can go in notebooks that have a certain stylish flair. I’m not picky with quality, albeit the pen needs to run well along the pages. 
• I tend to have different notebooks for different tasks. For example, one devoted to ideas on faith and ministry, another for random reflections. 
• Then there’s the tiny notepad, the one I can fit in a coat pocket or briefcase. It’s for jotting down random thoughts. You know the ones that find you out of thin air. I got tired of using the napkin or grocery receipt, so I have some little pages at my disposal.
• If all that fails, I’ll pull out my phone and use the Evernote app (that syncs with my desktop). I’ve tried OneNote but simply didn’t get the hang of it. Evernote has been useful to organize thoughts in broad categories. That makes returning to an idea and following through a little bit easier. 
• Category use in the app is also why I chose Scrivener to complete writing projects. It's critical to organize ideas, and Word can't match the power and features in Scrivener. 

What I haven’t yet mastered is what to do with all the ideas. Most of them turn into nothing, ideas jotted down that I never revisit. I wonder if some “spring cleaning” would de-clutter the list and increase creative use? 

Finally, how do I approach the regular rhythm of journalling? I don't. In fact, I’ve never consistently journaled. I do it, but merely as a way to reduce the noise in my head by transferring it to paper. I rarely go back into my journals, mostly because I write too fast while journalling. Which is fine because that’s not the point. Journalling is a necessary outlet to keep the writing mind, and the soul, healthy. Rarely do thoughts escape into projects, or new ideas emerge. It's merely a release, a dump of letters to complete the day or season.

_______

P.S. I would love to reply to comments but I've been unable due to login issues (that I don't know how to remedy).....so thanks for all of your thoughts! 

Visit Rohadi at his blog. Check out his adult coloring book Soul Coats.