As some of you know, I used to journal but several years ago, I burned them in a giant bonfire. Why, you might ask? Because I was burning my mother’s diaries at the time, and I was horrified by the realization that someone I cared for might read mine and my words might break their heart.

Do I have regrets? Only one. That I didn’t give my sisters or my brother a chance to be part of that decision.

Anyway, since then I’ve never journaled. I love the idea of it but shy away from the reality.

Instead, I’ve found a way to keep a diary of sorts without the deep intimacy of one.

For some time now I’ve been jotting things down in a little brown book. Bits of advice and lessons on the craft of writing I come across. Quotes. Poems I find. Song lyrics. And wow, I had a thought the other day that made me laugh.

I kind of want to keep this non-journal a secret in the hopes that some day I can haunt those I love and watch them trying to figure out my diary.

There are things in this little book that I write down because it triggers a fantastic story idea. Or a poem that an amazing character can be built from. There’s writing advice I want to share with my son. There are snippets I want to remember to share with a poet friend, or something that makes me laugh that I really want to pass on.

Then there are words that make me cry. That reach down into my soul and breathe out ‘this is who you are’.

Which is which?

Well, I know, obviously. But it will be so much fun to haunt those loved ones as they read the non-journal and wonder if I was crazy, or depressed, or a closet witch.

That is, if they can read my handwriting. In the meantime, I’ll leave you with this little poem from the non-journal and you can wonder about why I might have chosen it. This is by Lauren Oliver.

“It’s amazing how words can do that, just shred your insides apart. Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me – such bullshit.”