Journal Treasures/Sweet Fluid of Expression



Every so often, I share something I've written in one of my journals to let readers in on how the mind of at least one writer works.

Here's an entry from 2003, two years into the writing of my first novel , Between Will and Surrender, and when I was about to start my second, Between Darkness and Dawn. 

June 19, 2003

I enjoy the feel of pen scratching on rough paper.  I enjoy the feel of words rushing through my mind and escaping through fingertips and pen.  They flow out through black ink, the blood-sweet fluid of expression. 

By churl

I enjoy the feel of this form of expression, the artiness of it.  Life takes on meaning when I react to it in a way that becomes preserved between the pages of my journal.  Words that will outlast me.

At least until someone throws them away. 

Whom will that be?  Someone I know?  One of my sons? A grandchild?  A great grandchild?  Or will my journal fall into the hands of a stranger--who will then trash it? 

What will it matter once I'm gone? 

In the mean time, pen scratches across paper, ink stains the surface with curly symbols.  My thoughts are preserved.

If only I could write about something people cared about.  If only I could write in a way that would keep readers entranced long enough to absorb my story, enjoy it, think about it, and share the experience. 

If only, if only, if only.

It'll take practice.  Lots of it.

It'll take luck.

###

By Anna Denise

I have stacks of journals, covering the years I planned and wrote my four novels (2003-2008). 

A journal for every three months times six, twenty-four in all. 

Treasures filled with the "sweet fluid of expression."


(First photo image by BobAuBuchon)