I have finally reached the end of journal #2. I was amazed and so very proud of myself when I reached the end of journal #1, but to have made it through journal #2 is beyond my wildest imagination.
Allow me to explain. Over the past 23 years or so I have attempted to keep a journal at least 100 times. I’ve bought so many notebooks with the intention of keeping a journal that I’ve completely lost track. The process looked something like this: write on the first few pages, rip out those first few pages, maybe started again, and then promptly abandoned the whole idea only to pick up a new notebook a few months later and repeat the process.
The past year and a half have been different somehow. Maybe it was timing, maybe it was magic, but somehow I’ve managed to keep up with it. I carry my notebook everywhere I go. It has allowed me to capture thoughts, ideas, and observations that would have been lost had I not written them down in the moment.
Sometimes what I write there turns into something here on my blog, but just as often what is written there stays there. But the fact that I’ve completed two journals now brings me a great sense of pride in that I’ve stuck with it, that I am taking my writing a bit more seriously, and that I’m constantly looking and finding bits and pieces to write down.
This second journal was started back in August. In five months, I’ve written enough to fill it. It doesn’t matter if every word of it is drivel; I can live with that simply because, out of that drivel, has come some reasonably decent work that I’m not too ashamed to confess that I’ve written. I have a long way to go; of this I am aware, but you can’t get from point A to point B unless you start walking, so at least I’ve started the journey.