I’ve been transcribing my childhood diaries off and on for the past year, and while it’s not as horrifying as I thought it might be to revisit teenage me, I am let down. Not by what’s in there, but by what is not. I have memories of specific scenes from my life — Grandma showing … Continue reading I want the scene *and* the feelings
I wrote yesterday that journaling doesn’t help me with the craft of writing. In journals, I ramble without intention and am not proud of what I write. But I’m starting to question if that’s true, that it doesn’t help me improve. Let me back up a minute. I’ve been debating how I wanted to continue … Continue reading Digitizing my diaries
Yesterday, I wrote not one 10-minute write, but two free writes of I don’t know how much time, one in the morning, and one at the end of the day. For the first time in ages, I was excited to scatter thoughts on a page: not for a purpose, not for a blog post. Just … Continue reading A pretty journal and I’m writing again
I almost threw out my journals a few weeks ago. I was in declutter mode, and I wanted the 50 lb trunk of handwritten diaries out of the closet I was trying to clear. As I usually do when I get near that trunk, I opened it and leafed through a couple of the elegant, … Continue reading Old diaries
I’ve been reading through my diaries, and have found plenty of scandal that made me laugh so hard I cried*: We all hate Crystal now. Guess what! We’re having a prom! (April 15, 1986; 11 years old) We don’t hate Crystal. I’m glad because she’s a lot nicer than Hilga [who determined who we hated … Continue reading Diary or Memory: Which is the Reliable Narrative?
I remember how pretty the marsh looks in summer, when a storm is coming, and the grass looks neon green against a blackening sky. I remember the Fourth of July in Savannah that year with Brian. We rode in his Jeep with the top down, drove down to River Street to watch the fireworks. But … Continue reading I remember