Keep a Notebook

"The impulse to write things down is a peculiarly compulsive one, inexplicable to those who do not share it, useful only accidentally, only secondarily, in the way that any compulsion tries to justify itself." - Joan Didion's On Keeping a Notebook

I continue to teach Joan Didion's short essay, "On Keeping a Notebook," in writing classes because I myself return to it. We writers find ourselves scribbling down notes - observations, images, thoughts - because we must. There's something we want to understand or remember for later. Sometimes we remember the context, sometimes we don't even remember the moment. But the process of writing something down is dear to us. 

Didion describes us: "Keepers of private notebooks are a different breed altogether, lonely and resistant rearrangers of things, anxious malcontents, children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss."  Do we write what we want to remember, save for later, or relive? We don't necessarily write what happened; this kind of notebook isn't a diary. There could be a color or a sentiment we want to remember and, perhaps, write into another context.

My son is two years old and scribbling with whatever he can find: my pen over the grocery list from the perch of the shopping cart or a crayon on mail or that (damn!) toy's tail that leaves marks on the wall. What is he thinking? Does he want to simply fill in the space or is he preserving ideas? (According to the pediatrician, he's strengthening his small hand muscles.)

I bought him a small wire bound notebook. He's filled most of the pages or, at least, the pages he hasn't torn out. I keep it in my purse to fill the time or save my own pen and notebook when I'm trying to write.

I wonder what he'll write once he learns to write the alphabet, then words and then organizes the words into sentences and paragraphs.

Read Didion's full essay here. 

Take Care of Mamma

Author, agent and teacher Cynthia Blair Kane is an inspiration. We were talking about balancing work, life and writing and she said fervently, "Yes! You must take care of yourself. 100% and First." And she's right. If I'm overwhelmed and destroyed by exhaustion, how will I be able to do anything well, including care for my son?

That's not always easy. How is there time to rest (or money to hire babysitters), let alone do all of the things that urgently need to be done? I can put off laundry for a few days, but I can't put off buying food to feed my son meals and snacks.

I don't know what the key is, but I know we each need to be frank with ourselves and our partners. We are all going to make small and big mistakes regularly, but that doesn't mean that all is lost (even if it feels like it through exhausted tears.) Check in with your partner, see what s/he needs and ask for what you need. Be specific. If you don't know what you need but you know you need something, say that. Say what feels real and take care of yourself.

These beginning years are hard. Really, really hard. I'm reminded, though, when teaching memoir writing workshops that journaling can help, too. Many of my students have well-documented pasts in letters, journals and diaries that they kept. Sure, the diaries tend to be fairly emotional, but they help to reminder the writers who they were and how they made it through. This is helpful for your own emotional development, as well as future writing (if you choose to work on that original material.)

Not all writing is or needs to be public. You can write for yourself to keep yourself even-keeled and healthy. Check out Cynthia's website for her recent articles on living well. You might also find this Huffington Post article 6 Unexpected Ways Writing Can Transform Your Health interesting.