Keeping a Writer’s Journal

I have several small notepads floating around on my desk that I use for whatever I need to write: grocery lists, to-do lists, or ideas for writing articles. Unfortunately, they tend to get scattered and any ideas that I had become hidden under the pile of mail on my desk.

Recently, I bought “Writing Life Stories,” by Bill Roorbach, which is about writing memoir and creative nonfiction. Bill’s book is one to read and one to work through, since each chapter has several writing exercises.

I decided to get a separate notebook for the exercises so that I could keep track of them, and I’ve been thinking about keeping a writer’s journal for some time. In a way, I have unofficially been doing that, but I’m not consistent with it. It seems like I start something and then rebel when I start to think of it as something that I “have to do.”

To help focus myself on the journaling process, I did some background reading and then wrote a brief article about How to Keep a Writer’s Journal for eHow.

To prevent burnout and/or rebellion by my inner child, I allowed myself the luxury of not having to write every day. And the journal isn’t really a diary, so it’s not a listing of “what I did today” (how boring would that really be?) but rather it’s a workbook and a place to dream up ideas. I haven’t been going through the book’s exercises in exact order, either, but I’m not stressing about it. To get hung up on the particulars ruins the creative mood. In the meantime, I’m finding that even writing in the journal a few days a week is helping me to actually do some writing, while I spend less time thinking about doing some writing.

Insouciance

I woke up and the word “insouciance” floated into my mind of its own free will. The bedroom was dark and slightly too hot, and I had the vague feeling that it was the middle of the night, but otherwise my time sense deserted me.

Insouciance. I lay in bed a moment, wondering why I was even thinking about that word. I hadn’t even been writing anything earlier in the day. I thought about the word and what it means, realizing that although I could use it in a sentence I couldn’t really explain — even to myself — exactly what it meant. So I began to wonder what the official dictionary definition would be, even though I really didn’t feel like climbing out of bed to go read my dictionary.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was as though my mind was operating in overdrive. I told myself that maybe I just needed to go to the bathroom and get some water, but I didn’t want to get out of bed. Even the heat wasn’t enough to move me out from under the covers, but I couldn’t stop thinking so I finally slid out of bed, got some water, and then slipped across the hallway to my office.

I turned the light on low, but it was too dark to read and so I hit the switch to full intensity, read the definition of “insouciance,” and closed the dictionary and slipped it back into place on the bookshelf.

I let myself back into the bedroom but I misjudged how much pressure to use on the door, and it ended up closing loudly enough to wake my husband. He asked me why I had gone to the guest bathroom instead of the master bath, and I answered that I had used the master bath but then I had to go and look up a word. I said, “My mind won’t shut up.”

Several times during the night I woke up again, clear-minded and thinking about some aspect of writing, only to drift back to sleep. I can’t say I didn’t get a good night’s rest because each time I woke up I felt really good. Even when I got up at 5:30 this morning.

I’m not sure what got this writing jag started, but it’s morning now and I still seem to be energized. I did two exercises from a life writing book that I bought, and then I wrote down this little episode about insouciance, which amounted to about five pages in my new writing journal. When I got into the office early this morning, I wrote an article for eHow and published it, then I turned to Focal Plane and wrote this. And I’m still going.

They say that keeping a writing journal and writing regularly is the key to unlocking creativity and improving your writing. If my writing drive today is any indication of the success of journaling, then I might need to go to the office supply store and stock up on some more blank books. See you in the next post.

Diminishing Returns

I’m taking a public relations theory class which is an online format. Online classes can be as lively as face-to-face classes, or they can be nearly dead, with just the minimum number of posts to satisfy the professor’s class requirements. This class takes the form of the second.

It’s not that the subject matter is inherently boring; perhaps discussing theory in an introductory class is just too difficult to keep any kind of discussion going. Some students have tried, but oddly enough, the online Communications Club is also, well… noncommunicative. I guess people are busy doing communications rather than talking about the subject.

One item I brought up for discussion in the online classroom was whether or not anyone thought that there is a point of diminishing returns on advertising. That is, showing the same commercial(s) over and over and over… at what point do people simply tune out the message? And at some point further down the road, do they become antagonistic to the commercials? I’m specifically thinking about candidate commercials because I’m really sick of seeing them every commercial break. I have managed not to destroy my television, but it’s not for the want of handy bricks — I don’t want to have to clean up the mess, and the noise would scare my birds, who would then also make a mess. You see my dilemma.

The public relations textbook that my class is using refers to people as the “obstinate audience,” meaning those people who don’t immediately accept whatever message that is sent their way by public relations practitioners. “How dare you have your own opinion!” is what they are saying. But why shouldn’t people should still think for themselves?

In the spirit of the voting season, I present a poll to all you television watchers. And for those of you who like to think for yourselves, there is a write-in blank in the poll where you can enter your very own unique answer. Enjoy, but be polite!

Perseverance

One of the things that really bothered me when we began remodeling our house was losing some of the plants that we really liked. I could care less about the cherry tree that kept regrowing each time we cut it back, and I certainly had nothing but hard feelings for the poison ivy that was creeping down the basement stairwell. It felt like I was giving up on the things that I liked, but there simply wasn’t time to dig up and relocate all of the plants we wanted to save — the butterfly bush, a Carolina Allspice bush, a hop plant, and about a hundred wonderful little lily of the valley flowers in shades of white and pink.

Ben made an effort to dig up the butterfly bush that had taken residence outside of one of the windows on the north side of the house. The bush was only a couple of years old, and had appeared on its own one summer. It had taken root from seeds from another butterfly bush that we had planted years ago in another part of the yard. The old bush wasn’t doing too well because it was in a shady area of the yard, but this new plant was in direct sunlight, and its trunk was at least three inches in diameter. However, the root system was buried in dirt that had the consistency of concrete. That Saturday, the temperature was about 98 degrees and after about 10 minutes, Ben announced that it would simply be easier to purchase a new bush after the construction was done. We decided that would apply to about everything else, too.

In the last two months, all the plants that were in the small garden at the front of the house and those along the northern side have been cut down, trampled by men and machinery, crunched under roofing beams and drywall and toolboxes, and trampled some more. The grass has long since receded from the front yard, no doubt heading for better pastureland.

It seems that we gave up too soon on these plants. The butterfly bush has staged a comeback, and a multitude of branches are springing out of the old trunk. It’s only about a foot and a half tall at this point, but it’s a vigorous grower — it’s only taken about two or three weeks to get this big. We might still have to move the plant out from the porch a little, but now at least we have the time to soak the ground and dig up the plant when it goes dormant in the late fall. The best part is going to be when the plant blooms next year, because those fragrant purple flowers are going to be right off our new porch, right where we can see and smell them. And the butterflies are going to be there, too.