I may be a memoir writer, but I’m a terrible journaler. I love pretty ones, leather ones wrapped with string, and journals made from uncut paper.
When I get a new one, I write as if my life depended on it. But all too soon, it’s too hot to write or the dog needs to snuggle. Rarely do I fill all the pages. Even so, I eventually get down on paper—or into my laptop—what I need to from my heart, soul, and brain.
There are prayer journals, travel journals, daily task journals, emotional venting journals, and gratitude journals. These are all commendable, but what do you do with them as they stack up in boxes the closet…Read More