When I first started journaling, I hated it. The whole idea struck me as stupid. Sit down, journal about how your day went, what you ate, who got on your nerves. I found out that I was doing it all wrong. journaling is an action. Some where I can go for solace. It’s not going to judge you and anything you say to is private. The most loyal friend you can have.
I have to admit, that at first I was scared of writing down how I truly felt. From love, life, loved-one goals, fears. It’s scary admitting to something, even an inanimate object how you really feel. Someone close to me gave me a suggestion to journal for five minutes non-stop. Say whatever horrible dirty thing that pops into your head. It actually helped. I wrote without hesitation without any real thought. I didn’t stop for punctuation or word chose. It was not just emotionally freeing, but I was getting closer to the writer I wanted to be.
Skipping journaling can be skipping out on little golden pieces of nuggets that are your poetry. I know from talking with writers that there are so many idea that we have. At times overwhelming. Plots, characters, story lines, dialogue. All swimming circles, waiting for us to do something with them. Write it down in your journal. Write down all the hopes, dreams, decisions, fears, goals, angst. And from that will emerge a beautiful poem or story. You have to trust, as I had to myself, that beneath the rubble in your journal lies something at the center. The essence of who you are.