Writing

Writing Privately.

I still keep a personal journal, not just an online one.

I would like to tell you it’s because there’s something about having a pen in hand and putting black ink to white paper, but that’s not it. At least, that’s not the major part of it; in fact, it’s only a small sliver of the big pie.

The main reason, of course, is that there are thoughts that I don’t want to share on an online journal.

This should be obvious, of course. Some thoughts are just better off not sharing with the world. And it might come back to bite me in the rear eventually. You’d be surprised by the number of thoughts I have. Maybe you wouldn’t be. We all have a million thoughts running through our heads. And I want to be able to do a thought dump in a place where I don’t have to worry about people giving me their opinion or less than stellar advice on. Sometimes, you just want to stand on your soap box and tell everybody how you really feel without actually having everybody there.

Do you get what I mean?

There are a lot of published journals out there. Anne Frank. Sylvia Plath. I think there’s even a Virginia Woolf one out there. This is all well and good and everything, their inner thoughts are truly fascinating. But have you ever thought that maybe they didn’t want anybody to know what they were thinking? Maybe they didn’t want us to know their inner toil. Maybe just wanted to have a word dump in a place where nobody else but themselves could look at and read. Maybe this is why Jane Austen’s sister had an inkling about the author’s eventual fame and destroyed all the person thoughts she ever shared. Who needs that kind of drama, right?

Another reason I still keep a private journal is by force of habit. I’ve been writing one for half my life and I don’t intend to stop now. If I have written in my private journal in a while, then I feel my mind start to reel and race. I need to sit and write before my brain goes into overdrive with all the thinking.

Am I weird?

Probably.

I don’t know many people who keep a journal. They think it’s too much effort. But if you keep at it, then it becomes a habit. And anyway, you don’t need to write in it every day. Maybe every other day, once a week, once a month. Just whenever you feel like it.

Sometimes you just need a private place to go. Maybe you can sketch. Or write poetry. Whatever you want. There’s no right way to keep a journal, you know?

I promise it’ll be worth it. No pressure or anything.

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