Illustrated Journaling

First, let me catch you up. During the pandemic, as I was spiraling along with the rest of the world, I found a video about "micro journaling" as a method for getting off social media. (Summary: When you feel the urge to doomscroll, open a journal app or paper journal and jot down a sentence instead.) Around the same time, two of my friends who are super into fountain pens inspired me to try one.

Fast-forward to my "Year of Analog" wherein I became utterly obsessed with fountain pens, inks, stationary, and old-school methods of planning and journaling. That "year" has now become a driving passion that will doubtlessly remain the rest of my life.

For the first few years, my daily journal was primarily text. I'd record what I did that day in bland prose, make some notations about what I was watching, listening to, eating, or playing. One page per day, like clockwork. (For the stationary nerds among you: I fell hard down the Hobonichi rabbithole. That glorious Tomoe River Paper!)

Then in September, I decided to try out the Traveler's Notebook system where I could write as much or as little as I wanted each day instead of being confined to one pre-dated page.

Everything changed.

The New Paradigm

Having as much or as little space to write meant that I could wax rhapsodic about some good soup or skip over everything except a good video game session. I felt like I could pick and choose what to highlight each day, or just explore art unrelated to events. Some entries are just swatches of pen colors. In some I've taped movie stubs or scraps of pretty paper. I decorate with stickers, stamps and washi tape whenever the mood strikes me. It's a blank canvas, but not an intimidating blank canvas, like a sketchbook.

The nice thing about doodling in a journal like this is that the doodles don't have to be good. They are tiny snapshots of one's mood or the detritus of the day. They are for you and you alone. The journal stops being a "log," and becomes a playground.

It takes more time to journal like this, but I can't tell you how good it is for the soul. It makes you reflect on your day, to consciously pull out the moments. As a person who works from home and doesn't do exciting things very often, it's easy to let the days blend into each other. Journaling highlights the moments. It slows down time.

I am genuinely excited to play in my journal in the mornings and evenings. I don't use pencil – everything goes down in pen – and all typos and "mistakes" become artifacts of the day. I have a little pouch of markers I pull out. I don't worry about staying in the lines. I don't worry about anything. I just draw and color like a child, and I feel my entire body ease.

I'm not saying you all have to go out and start journaling, but... I think you should all go out and start journaling. I can't tell you how good this new passion has been for me. I want that for you, too.

If you're interested in trying out journaling but are intimidated by self-reflection and/or drawing, this is a lovely video of suggestions:

Joy seeps into everything

When I become obsessed with something, it seeps into every other aspect of my life. I went to Spain in November and art journaling that experience was so fulfilling. (I will share some of those journal pages later!) I've also reworked a new book proposal to include illustrated journal entries from the main character. (Keep your fingers crossed for that project, please!) I'm reading books on hand lettering again, and diving back into Lynda Barry's books (Syllabus really helps to get you out of the "but I can't draw!" mindset), and watching tons of YouTube videos to get inspired.

I'm astonished when a new passion takes hold of me like this. I'm in my fifties! How is it that I'm still discovering new things that speak to me so profoundly? (And thank you, again, to the anti-depressants that help me to experience joy instead of apathy.) It's tempting to look at the amount of money I've spent on journals and planners and markers and washi tape and feel like I'm being a frivolous, irresponsible human. But I prefer to think of all that as an investment in mental health and art, and in rekindling a sense of wonder and play that the world seems determined to try to smother.

Art is resistance. Art is medicine. Art is a pure expression of self.

Thanks for reading.

Jenn

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