Occasionally I'll carry a journal around with me for a few months, tape photos and pictures in it while I jot down spontaneous thoughts, observations and such for a specific friend. Here's an entry from one I wrote two years ago for another writer:
May 9, 2007
The 50-acre fire in [nearby town] has burned another 850 acres and is now only ½ mile from my house. I have our grab-and-go bags packed. It would be the week I have a shot at the Times that God would decide to burn my house down.
The smoke haze is everywhere; the truck was white with ash this morning. I keep thinking of Pompeii, silly me.
One of my more religious friends believes that we’re in the beginning of The End Times ™. Between her and Mom I feel Revelations-battered.
I don’t believe in the Bible boogeyman of The End Times, but I have just enough residual faith to drop into a knee-jerk depression whenever someone who does preaches to me.
So: I will write!
Of a future that does not end because people are afraid.
Of people who face their fears.
Of fears that can be fixed.
Like Charlotte Lucas after she marries Mr. Collins, the parlor of my writing is reserved for my particular use.
Sometimes,the only place I can breathe is in that parlor.
When the journal is filled up, I read it out loud to the Dragon, save a text copy, and send the original to the friend. It's like a very loooooooooong letter.
Do you do anything unusual with your journals? Let us know in comments.