Journaling Should Not Be Polished

My diary felt like a chore until I did this

Pry my pile of notebooks from my cold, dead hands

I’m writing this issue from the Wedding Cake House Residency in quirky, charming, surprisingly artsy-radical-uber-queer Providence, Rhode Island. I’ll recap my experience in later editions of this newsletter, but this week I want to talk about journaling.

Do you journal? Do you feel like you should journal? Do you feel embarrassed about journaling? For such a private practice, there seems to be a lot of anxiety around it. (Well, now that I think of all the other things we do in private, maybe this shouldn’t come as a surprise.) When I was 18, a couple of lit bros mocked me for having a journal, which they thought was filled with annotations on my latest crush. They were right but it also contained my analysis of a whole bunch of other topics, like Peru’s fraudulent elections, and who is to say crushes aren’t worth writing about anyway? Both of them tried to get in my pants at some point during our brief friendship. Maybe they should have written down plans for doing it successfully, instead of turning their nose up at a genre that is feminine-coded and therefore ridiculous.

On the flip side, I have other friends who don’t feel like real writers because they don’t journal. The pressure to be constantly crafting, finishing morning pages, carrying a moleskin notebook in their back pocket—it’s all too much. They have 15 minutes to devote to writing and those 15 minutes are directed toward novels, freelance articles, and dissertations.

It should go without saying that no one needs to keep a journal. Plenty of people who aren’t writers do it and that doesn’t make them closer to winning a Pulitzer Prize. Plenty of writers do keep one but who knows if it is anything other than a dumping ground of incoherent thoughts. That has value too! But it might not be conducive to any published piece.

I’ve been journaling since I was a kid. It’s taken many forms, but in my teen years, I settled into the habit of wanting my journal to be an archive of memorable moments but using it as a space to rant instead. Seriously, for a solid two decades, I would sit down with every intent to describe that party that got a little too out of hand, or the tense moment between a best friend and me, or the way a dish tasted. I rarely did. Setting up the scene felt exhausting. I would write maybe two sentences about an actual event and spend the next two pages complaining and bitching, or being giddy and effusive, with little connection to the day itself. My journal was a depository for my thought spirals.

This had its purpose, I guess. Venting is cathartic. Processing is important. I am not one to “feel my feelings'“ because, even when I try, I find it boring to be that emo for more than thirty minutes. Might as well use that time to run errands or something lol. For a very long time, I decided that was the purpose of my journal even though I had the nagging sensation that the 15 minutes a day I set aside for it could be used in a way that felt more fulfilling.

In December, exhausted from the Most Annoying Year of My Life (not to be confused with the Worst Year of My Life or the Most Professionally Frustrating Year of My Life), I opened my journal and decided I did not have scene work in me. I did not even have tirades in me. All I had was lists. Vignettes and snippets of things that happened to me that day.

It was great. It was the way I had always wanted my journal to be but had never figured out how to make it work. THE SOLUTION WAS SO SIMPLE AND IT ONLY TOOK ME, OH, ABOUT 37 YEARS TO FIGURE IT OUT.

A list removes the need for any preamble. I don’t feel forced to set up a character, setting, or time. No obligation to add in context for I am the context. I know what I’m referring to. I simply jump head-first into the observation I want to make.

A list allows me to copy+past my best pithy remarks, which tend to live—much to my chagrin—in text messages to friends or in my Id-Gone-Wild Instagram stories.

A list limits how much whining I do.

A list gives me the freedom to write in Spanglish.

A list highlights the tiny detail I noticed that day without giving any explanation as to why I hyper-fixated on it.

A list is a depository of snapshots. As a single, childless woman who bounces around from city to city and lives far away from her family, I am acutely aware that I have no one to turn to and say, “Remember when” for large swaths of my life. This archive is important to me. I want to have a dialogue with my past self when I get older. Because my life is full of “Remember whens”.

Here is a sample of what I’ve included in my journals since the switch:

• Joyas de Giuli: “Los hombres emperoran con los hijos.”

• Marce’s coy little smile walking back to the pool.

• Sastrería Martínez is like a peaceful bunker.

• At least I have Bravo to quiet my demons.

• Oh no, taco discourse.

I know this means nothing to you but they are touchstones to me. Idiosyncratic mnemonic devices that evoke entire conversations, days, opinions. This sounds like such an insignificant shift, but I think the reason why I’m obsessing over it is because it represents one more instance in which shedding the “shoulds” of writing reenergizes my creativity.

At Wedding Cake, I’ve been thinking a lot about how much I’ve had to unlearn about being a writer. Describing my current project to my fellow residents is an exercise in recapping my career and the long-winding path that brought me there. For most of my life, I equated writing to novels. That was it! Everything else was a hobby or an adjacent discipline. An envious, lesser form that just WISHED it could be a novel. Then I expanded that to fit in nonfiction pieces, but only if they were published. Everything else was solipsism or entertainment for tipsy people at bars, since the vast majority of stories I’ve shared have been on live lit shows in Chicago.

But now, (*hits a metaphorical doobie*), what even is writing, dudes? What if I told you that my published work, including this newsletter, only contains half of my fire? What if I told you that if you really want to see me at my best, I should read my shit out loud to you? What if I told you I’m exploring other ways of thinking of writing like podcasting, one-woman shows, or any other genre that puts me in front of a mic?

How does this relate to journaling? I’ve lost my train of thought. Other than the “shoulds” have never worked for me too well. They might not work for you either.

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Homework

What daily ritual do you have? How can you change it?

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State of My Wallet

January Invoiced: $2,995

January Received: $4,928

Why is Q1 always a financial horror show? This year, I’m going to start securing work in October to get through the first three months of the year. I would have had more money saved up to get me through January, but taxes took pretty much all of it away. I can’t believe I’ve sent a small fortune to the IRS and can’t even get free healthcare in return.

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Progress Report

Contests: 1

Pitches: 2

LOIs/Job Applications: 4

My potato essay did not make it past the initial round of reviews for the contest and my job application for a part-time gig was rejected. I’ve been ghosted everywhere else, but am in the process of talking with a potential new client.

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Shameless Self-Promotion

• A few weeks ago, I shared my Q1 project wish list:

  • Overseeing Spanish-language recording sessions for ad spots. I started doing this last year and absolutely love it! Agencies hire me because I can ensure actors are using the appropriate accent and tone, and sound clear. Since I also have a copywriting background, I can edit the script on the fly if need be.

  • Translating news articles.

  • Interview-basedprojects. Think About Me sections, profiles, internal reports, etc.

In addition, I’m still on the lookout for new clients for Q1 and Q2! I’m a bilingual content writer, editorial writer, and translator with a focus on higher education, non-profits, the Latinx community, food, and culture. You can find out more about my experience in my LinkedIn profile.

• I’ll be leading an abbreviated version of my Artist Statement workshop at this year’s Pub Crawl! I’ll also be moderating a panel of StoryStudio alumni. The monthlong conference is already underway, but all sessions are recorded so you can still catch up!

• A reminder that I also provide feedback on artist statements. Reply to this email to learn more.

• I’ll also be teaching a one-night workshop on how to use reporting to shape your creative writing projects on March 19.

• You can still get a Tarot card reading for 2024! The half-hour virtual sessions are a great way to gain some insight into next year. The suggested donation is $40. Books yours here.

• Thanks to all my new minty-fresh subscribers! Your support means a lot. I hope to see you soon in my weekly virtual write-ins. Interested in joining? Upgrade for the invite and access other benefits like samples of my pitches or freelance templates.