June 9: My response to my own Part I

Since we’re talking about journaling here at the first of Week 2 of Writing Our Hearts Out, I thought I’d try to do some of both this week.  Since Sandy recommended the site Penzu.com, I’m planning to try it. For now, I’ll stick to the freebie version, and if I decided to “upgrade” to make it prettier or to personalize, I can do that when I wish.

I have honestly tried every format imaginable. I still have the first diary I ever owned. It’s a small pink one-year diary with little spaces for each day. I didn’t fill it completely, and I didn’t start it for years after receiving it as a gift. I finally wrote in it inconsistently one year while I was in college, and later I found that I had recorded a mention of my future husband. At the time, my diary entries were sad little records of my dejection at rejection. A boyfriend had graduated, moved back home, and faded away.  When I read the entry, years later, of a visit my sister made to campus riding with a group from her church back home, driven by Dick Posey, I didn’t even remember his being there.  All that time I spent pining away with what I diagnosed as a broken heart, and there he was right in front of me!

I read of writers who keep journals religiously, using the same kind of notebook, storing them side by side on bookshelves, and I feel a kind of envy.  Not enough, though, to follow through.  I probably have just as many notebooks, partially filled, all different sizes and styles.

This is what I do know about physical journal preference:  I like a book that will lie flat, and a spiral notebook form is particularly comfortable.  I prefer lines. I manage to keep up with a small purse-size notebook best, even if I have larger journals.  I know I need a place to store snatches of conversations, little ideas of lines that come to me as I drive or when I should be paying attention to something else. I often “harvest” these little books for poems or stories underway. For really rough drafts or note-taking, I prefer a long yellow legal pad and a fine-point black Sharpie pen.

Several years ago, author Dori Sanders described her method of collecting ideas for writing. Since she worked at the roadside stand of the family farm, she kept paper so she could jot down notes, which she would put into a jar or box until she needed them.  She got the idea for her novel Clover from observations there. She saw two funeral processions pass in one day, one white and one black. A little girl in one car caught her eye and gave her a shy little wave.  She said, “I just picked her up out of that car and put her in the other, next to the sad looking white lady.” Ta da.

If I didn’t think I’d just lose them, I probably would use 3×5 cards, my favorite office supply ever.  They are a perfect size to carry everywhere. Since I also have the (inadvisable) need to use a book mark when I read, moving it down the page under the line I’m reading, they’re always handy. I also write down words (and page numbers) I want to look up. No doubt, one of my writing challenges is trying to organize my thoughts and ideas.  I have folders and folders of story starts (multiple copies with notes from my writing group.) I also have at least five flash drives, all hooked together.

For now, I’m going to try to be a keyboard journalist, keeping EVERYTHING right there in penzu –well, everything except what I already have somewhere else! I have a prodigious talent for keyboarding, dexterity I pray will sometimes translate to my mandolin playing.  When I write faster and faster by hand, I become more illegible. When I type, I can feel typos as I make them and correct them almost effortlessly.  I can type almost as fast as I think.

Moving to another question I asked in Part I of this week’s notes:  I’m not sure if my moods affect my writing. I think they change my genre.  I’m not necessarily a confessional journalist.  To be honest, if something’s really eating at me, I’m more likely to compose a poem–in third person or from another voice. I am great at disguises. I don’t tend to get caught in particular highs or lows.  (What’s that old joke?  I don’t suffer from stress; I’m a carrier.  I think I suffer more from others’ highs and lows.)

Now, acting on my summer goals, I’m going to spend a little time going over one writing project I think deserves my full attention for awhile. I’ll report back.