I love journals. I could wax on and on about journals. I’ve kept one of my own (or two) since I was about 14 years old. I’ve used it as a learning tool when teaching, a support for executive coaching, a place to record crazy ideas, dreams and frustrations. A new journal is the epitome of Emily Dickenson’s line, “I dwell in possibility,” because those blank pages are full of whatever you want them to be. Sometimes, to writers, the blank page can be terrifying. My suggestion is to refrain from calling yourself a writer if a blank journal or page has that effect on you!
I love the way a new journal feels, the crack of opening it for the first time, the new-page smell of the pages that are a little stuck together . . . it’s the equivalent of clean laundry and a full tank of gas—I can go anywhere!
Get yourself a new journal. Not a new iPad (which I did get, but it’s not going to replace my journal), a cool journal you love, one that reminds to to take time to think, ponder, dream. One that fits easily in your bag, can be accessible on the plane or train, one that will hold the creative impulses and wild ideas that you might forget lest you had that journal right there at the ready.