My personal journal writing seems to be a historical account of my love life from 12-26. And when I write in there, I’m usually in love or getting over love. Which is fine, I like writing about that, and if you know me, it’s a big part of my excitement for life.
Lately I’ve noticed that while it helps to write in my personal journal to vent through the dramas, I don’t always walk away feeling more centered. Sometimes yes, but sometimes not. And I’ve been avoiding the love diary lately because I just haven’t had the brain space to add the recent excitements or hardships.
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So, in the middle of all the craziness that is my life in San Francisco, I wrote last night to reach that point of peace and calm that can only be matched by a hot bath, a good O, or an Australian beach. I finished a first draft of a story that’s been on my mind for a week. And it felt good. Not just to finish something…which is quite an accomplishment in its own right, but also for the process. Just writing. Not free form journal babble, but formatted, beginning, middle, and end writing.
I used the process of writing to find peace in my storm. Now to sell it.