how to start journalling (and make it a habit)

I have been journaling for 1,243 mornings straight… (since 20 December 2019)

I get asked about journalling quite a lot. So I thought it was time I wrote a blog post about it - so if this is your bag, strap yourself in, get a cup of tea and enjoy one of my famous long reads!

my journalling habit

I started journalling (or “keeping a diary” as I called it) regularly in 1991 several months before my tenth birthday, and I continue to this day - in fact, right now I am a more regular and prolific journal-keeper than I ever have been.

I started writing Morning Pages daily at the end of 2019, a few months in to my PhD studies. Morning Pages are a practice that involves filling three pages (no more, no less) with whatever it is you’re thinking, stream-of-consciousness style, first thing every day. You should feel free to write whatever you want because in theory no one is ever going to read it, not even you. It’s simply a way of emptying your mind of the dross so that if you want to do some creative work, your mind won’t be preoccupied with the usual things it latches on to, preventing you from doing some deep thinking and creating.

I wasn’t new to the concept - I had done Morning Pages for a few months here and there over the years, but this time I really stuck with it. I’m not sure what it was about this time. Perhaps it was everything that happened at the start of 2020 and I suddenly had a desperate urge to capture and make sense of everything that was happening.

The notebooks I filled between April 2019 and August 2021.

Over three years later, they are still a daily habit! And I have no plans to ever stop. Even Tom is now doing Morning Pages, as he's seen the benefits it has had for my creativity and productivity, and he wanted in!

A journalling prompt for you, perhaps?

I call my morning journalling ritual “my pages” but I don’t think they’re Morning Pages in the strictest sense - they are not truly stream of consciousness (though sometimes they are) nor are they a considered, thoughtful setting down of what has happened in the previous 24 hours. I’d say my daily “pages” are somewhere in-between the two. That works for me.

Indeed, as Julia Cameron says herself, there’s no wrong way to do Morning Pages. Doing them is what’s important.

Alternatively, you might prefer reflective journalling at the end of each day. Helen Garner, possibly Australia’s most famous diarist, once said in an interview that, as she lives alone, she liked the evening ritual of just setting down a few thoughts on “how things went today”. I occasionally write in my journal in the evening too, I especially like to do a gratitude practice (see further).

Why do it?

Why do anything? Because you want to.

Because it brings you joy, clarity, calm, purpose.

Because it helps.

I do it for the same reasons I write in general - to figure out what I really think and feel, to work out what’s really going on. To remember things I don’t want to forget.

A momentous day indeed!

Posterity is a great reason to keep a journal. I have not had the heart or nerve to read any of my journals prior to 2006 (there aren’t many but I know they’re most likely incredibly embarrassing!) but I quite enjoy looking back through my more recent notebooks, even though Julia Cameron warns you not to read back through your Morning Pages in case it impedes you and wakes up the inner critic. I’ve not found that to be the case, yet.

I’ve come to realise that as great as it is to record the momentous occasions in life in writing (see picture!), it’s the random thoughts and the details of everyday life, as I was living it then, that I most enjoy having access to, thanks to regular journal keeping. Suddenly, the details are so clear. It’s like being back there.

I have at least five notebooks each for the last three years alone, but back in London it would usually take me a year to fill just one. Life was so hectic then. I wrote as much as I could but I wish I had written more. I was so convinced I would remember everything.

So now, I write every day. The most basic, mundane stuff. Because one day, it won’t be.

Ideas for getting started

Morning writing

As detailed above, I think making the ritual of journaling first thing in the morning, with your cup of tea or coffee, is a great way to start making it a habit. You will start to really look forward to it. It can be Morning Pages in the truest sense, just stream of consciousness until you’ve filled three pages, or more considered ordering of your thoughts. It’s up to you!

Gratitude journalling

This is also a lovely practice to get in the habit of, particularly if you want to change your mindset to a more positive one. Recognising your life’s many blessings, however small, can really help give you perspective. You don’t have to fill three pages if you don’t want to (though it’s easier than it sounds). You could just write five things that you noticed or that happened today (or yesterday, if you’re writing first thing in the morning) that you’re grateful for. I try to do this as an evening practice as well as my Morning Pages.

Travel journalling

Travel is a wonderful excuse to buy a lovely notebook (maybe in the place you’re visiting?) and start setting down what you get up to each day, the people you meet, the sights you see, the thoughts you have being away from home and everything familiar.

Prior to my current daily pages habit, the most prolific I had ever been with journalling was my solo trip around North America and my first few months of living in London in 2007. Every day, every hour sometimes, held new and wondrous things that I knew I wanted to capture and remember forever. There are only a few times in your life, I think, when you know you’re in some golden days while they’re actually happening, and that period of time was mine.

Dream journalling

Personally I don’t do this unless there was a dream that was particularly vivid and it’s all I can think about when I pick up the pen to do my Morning Pages. But many people do and find it useful, if not entertaining. It can be a great way to observe your subconscious at work.

Abundance mindset / affirmations

I really like doing this too, and I’d highly recommend checking out Bernardine Evaristo’s interview (and her wonderful memoir Manifesto) about positive intention setting.

Writing down the things you want to happen has some kind of magical power I’ve never quite been able to put my finger on. Recently, I was looking through a 2013 journal and found I had written down that I wanted to start putting a PhD proposal together. I was still living in the UK then so I’m not sure which university I had my sights set on, but the dream I’d had since I was a teenager was still with me. It took another six years to put a proposal together and get accepted into a PhD, but here I am, in my final year. Time is not a butler, as Austin Kleon put it. Things will happen on their own timetable. The trick is to stay open and never ignore a dream that won’t go away.

Things to remember

I’ve often dedicated several pages - usually the first or last handful of the current journal - to “things to remember”, reminders that ground me, things I find useful to hear often depending on what is currently going on in my life. If I read something in an article or book, or hear something someone says in a podcast, that particularly speaks to me, that might be helpful for me to bear in mind at the present time, I write it there.

Things like:

• “I am always taken care of, regardless of what I believe I do or don’t need.”

• “Other people’s karma is none of my business.”

• “You can’t control how people behave or treat you, you are only in control of how you let it affect you.”

That kind of thing. Perhaps it’s affirmations, but it’s all useful things that I find comforting and grounding. I highly recommend this if you’re a bit like me and find your anxiety running away with you at times. It can be really handy to look at it in your over-thinking moments.

Art journalling

Sometimes, with my brush pen, I copy out quotes and lines of poems that speak to me, and embellish them with ink paintings…well, I do my best.

Or I just draw lines and patterns with the brush pen, and add phrases or single words. It’s great fun.

Lines from the poem “I Imagine Myself In Time” by Jane Hirshfield, one of my favourite poets.

Here’s my thoughts on a couple of other frequently asked journalling-related questions:

do i have to do it every day?

No, not at all. But in order to make it a habit, if that’s what you want, you’re probably going to have to get into some kind of regular routine with it that works for you.

But don’t worry, it’s normal to go through periods of not really feeling it. To be honest, I’m going through a period of that myself. In 2020, with every day being so charged with uncertainty and life changing so rapidly in such a short space of time, I kind of looked forward to writing my pages each morning. There was always something to write about!

Recently, I’ve noticed a little inertia creeping in. And that’s OK. I don’t want to give up the daily habit, seeing as I’ve stuck with it for so long, so I’m just making my peace with currently writing utter nonsense, repetitive garbled words that can barely be called prose. It’s fine, I’m not Anaïs Nin. These are not going to be published. These will just be the pages I flick past, or rip out, if I ever read it in future.

what if someone finds it and reads it?!

This is one of the things I hear most frequently and, I must admit, it has worried me in the past too.

A quote from the brilliant novel Assembly by Natasha Brown. A must read.

When I was younger, I had my journal found and read by people who I never intended to read it, who then used what was in it against me. It was admittedly a very long time ago now but I still struggle to find the words for how scarring and traumatic it was. It made me feel like nowhere was safe for my private thoughts or, more accurately, I wasn’t allowed to have them. Everything about me, even my thoughts, had to be curated. No wonder I spent so much of my early adult life doing things that felt so incongruent with who I truly was - trauma and shame kept me from using my voice’s most natural outlet. Without it, I had no idea what I truly felt, thought or wanted. I was lost, and completely at the mercy of others.

Thankfully that’s no longer the case and those lost years are just part of my origin story now. But it’s taken me a long time to own my words, to wield their power well, and to reject the idea that I am solely responsible for their impact, particularly if they’re read by an unintended audience. I’m getting there but it still takes a lot for me to write truly uncensored. Though I can’t deny, with everything that’s happened over the last year, it’s such a release when I do!

If you’ve had a similar violation of your privacy and trust, or have reason to believe such a thing might happen, please know you are not alone. I can only advise you to do whatever it takes so that you can convince yourself that your journal is your safe space. Know that you are entitled to privacy and respect, no matter who you live with or how old you are. Keep your journal in a safe place, out of sight or, if necessary, under lock and key! Alternatively, write your pages each morning on a cheap notepad, then burn or destroy them afterwards, don’t keep them. What matters most is that you have a way to express yourself.

I have small children. time for myself in the mornings? What’s that?!

The fact that my morning routine is something I am able to prioritise and do without interruption every day is not something I take for granted - it is one of the great joys of my life and helps me feel anchored and get in a good mindset for the day. I can’t speak to how to best do that if you have small children but my old blogging friend Dr Jemma has a great episode on her podcast about how to create a nourishing morning routine with kids. I think this is her updated version, as she’s recently become a mum of 4! In fact, if you’re a busy and ambitious parent, you need to subscribe to her podcast!

My friend Katie Parker, who also specialises in supporting mothers of young children with their business goals and life balance, has some wonderful resources on her social media and has spoken often about the benefits of journalling.

published journals I love and would recommend

• The Diary of A Young Girl by Anne Frank (the one that started it all for me, aged 10!)

• I devoured the diaries of Anaïs Nin as a teenager but have not read them for many years now. They are a classic of the genre, as she was such a pioneer in terms of writing that walked the tightrope between public and private. Not for the faint-hearted. This LitHub article is a great introduction!

• If you’re a fan of New Zealand writer Katherine Mansfield, her journal is worth reading.

• Nigel Slater’s The Kitchen Diaries trilogy are all wonderful - the first is probably my favourite. I do long write something similar one day.

• Stephanie’s Journal by Stephanie Alexander (out of print) - again, a lovely blend of food and life, documenting the year 1997 which turned out to be quite momentous for one of Australia’s most loved and respected chefs and food writers. Worth looking out for secondhand or in an op shop!

• Helen Garner’s recently published volumes of diaries are fascinating reading - my favourite was the final one, How to End a Story. She is so crisp and devastating in her observations. I don’t think I will ever have her brevity!

• Beverley Farmer’s A Body of Water - perhaps not strictly a journal exclusively, but an interesting mash-mash of journal entries and short stories alongside essays on the writing process. I loved it!

• Sylvia Plath’s journals are a bit of a creative touchstone for me - I think they’re essential reading for anyone interested in her life and work.

• A Notable Woman by Jean Lucey Pratt - a remarkable volume that spans almost the entirety of Pratt’s life, from 1925 when she was a teenager to her death in 1986. Writing that is surprisingly intimate, frank and fresh.

• The diaries of Nella Last are also fascinating reading if you’re interested in life during World War Two - Nella was “Housewife, 49” who contributed diaries to the Mass Observation Project.

• Modern Nature by Derek Jarman - this is a beautiful and utterly compelling journal where Derek, living with the trauma and uncertainty of being HIV positive in the late 1980s, documents the creation of a garden that’s as visionary, wondrous and original as his art. Highly recommended.

• My Mad Fat Diary and My Madder, Fatter Diary by Rae Earl - full of hilarity and 1980s nostalgia, but also a deeply courageous documentation of what it was like to have a breakdown as a teenager when adolescent mental health services didn’t exist.

• Tom has been chipping away at Michael Palin’s Complete Diaries at bedtime for quite a while (in all fairness, it’s 1,952 pages!) and often reads me passages that are hilarious, deeply moving, or both.

I’m sure there’s more I’ve forgotten…..I will make additions when my memory is jogged!

So, what do you think? Are you inspired to start making journalling a habit? Let me know your thoughts!

Please note: this blog post has affiliate links with retailers such as Booktopia which means I may receive a commission for a sale that I refer, at no extra cost to you.

keeping a promise

I have wanted to do my PhD for a very long time. Apparently I even talked about it at school! In my last year of my BA I remember it being all-consuming, and being devastated when, convinced I was speeding merrily along that path, I reached a dead end after my Honours year. 

But life went on. As some things ended, I found new beginnings. I moved interstate, then overseas. This time last year, more than 15 years had passed since reaching that dead end. Tom and I were packing up our lives in London, our flights back to Australia booked, his visa safely approved. I was in a routine I’d been in for years, though admittedly at the tail end of it. The daily grind. Happy enough but wondering if this particular dream would ever see the light of day after the best part of two decades in a cupboard. 

If anyone had told me a year later I would be enrolled in my PhD and attending seminars at University of Technology Sydney, meeting my supervisor who is one of the most creative, motivating and intelligent women I’ve ever met, well....I would have wanted to believe it. But I still thought it was unlikely. 

I entered the UTS building last Thursday and thought I would explode with joy. I sat at tables with some of this country’s brightest minds, most respected historians and highly praised writers and thought.....I belong here. Not in an arrogant way, you understand. I am honoured and beyond grateful to be here, but I also know this is where I’m meant to be. These are my people. This is work I understand and want to do with all my heart.

But this isn’t happening because I was ready. I thought my PhD was still years away. I’m here and doing it because life decided I was ready. After all these years, the space suddenly opened and when it did, I didn’t question it. With encouragement from some wonderful people, I jumped. 

This feels like the biggest journey of my life. Bigger than the move to Melbourne or London, bigger than the quest to get fit and healthy, bigger than the marathon. This is the keeping of a promise to my younger self, my most essential self. I want to look back on my life and know that, despite taking the scenic route, I did not fail her. 

So if you’re reading this, wondering if your own dream - the biggest dream of your true, most authentic self - will ever happen, please take heart.

Trust yourself and the timing of life. 

And never, ever give up. 

i must begin again: a writing retreat in norwich

Serving suggestion for this post: sitting comfortably either with a cup of tea you've just made or on a train that isn't going anywhere.

Years ago, when I was writing the earliest drafts of what eventually became The Latte Years, I would often house-sit for friends for a few days when the opportunity arose, relishing a house as empty as my schedule, where I could completely dedicate myself to writing, away from the daily grind of life. Of course, when you have a deadline and only three months to deliver 100,000 words around a full time job, you suck it up and get it done. But the idea of time – a few days completely free of your usual routine and obligations, stretching out in front of you – to do that work is a really precious and luxurious thing.

I have done wonderful guided writing retreats before, and if money were no object I’d do them far more often. There’s a lot to be said for the motivation of a group setting and an experienced, inspiring teacher to spur you on. But the empty home of a kind friend or relative for a few days does just as well, and is utter bliss for the creative person.

A bit over a month ago, I went to Norwich to a sweet little cottage to house-sit, keep my aunt’s plants watered, to write and recalibrate.

I have a few projects on the go at the moment – the biggest one being what I hope will be Book 2 – but they had all been lacking much-needed momentum. About six months ago, in the midst of the bleak end of winter, I decided I would go away on my own a few days at some point over the summer, to see if I could find that missing ingredient. With all the highs and lows 2016 had delivered so far, I needed to reconnect with myself and my creative practice, without the distractions of daily life providing endless justifications for putting things off, for not making time.

Unfortunately that week at the end of July I had come down with a nasty throat infection, so on the train journey up from London I mostly sipped hot tea, read Oh Comely magazine and eavesdropped on interesting conversations happening all around me. All things I enjoy doing, sore throat or not! But I was unsure as to whether the weekend would be as productive as I’d hoped, given how poorly I was feeling. Many of the businessmen around me were drinking whisky. I considered joining them, I was sure it would help my throat.

Travelling essentials.

I arrived safely, fell on the empty house with gratitude and relief, and went to bed early. I was up with the sun the next day – a rhythm I settled into for the rest of the retreat. Each day began with black coffee made in the moka pot on the stove, sipped in the garden, where toasty warm sunshine beat down on my shoulders, bees and butterflies floated among the flowers and the coffee slowly warmed my sore throat, dry and raw from coughing.

I walked into Norwich city centre nearly every day, mostly to treat myself to a second coffee at Gosling and Guzman. “The secret to a happy life is continuous small treats,” said Iris Murdoch in her novel The Sea, The Sea, which I happened to be reading, so I took it as a sign to get a cinnamon bun too.

Lovely coffee and buns at Gosling and Guzman. And their takeaway cups are so pretty!

I was alone for the whole time, but not lonely. I slipped easily into solitude, wearing it like a comfy familiar sweater. No television, no internet, no email, no social media. Text messages were the only contact I allowed myself with the outside world. It was amazing to realise how disciplined I could be and simply not look at social media – I disabled all notifications so it was simply a matter of not allowing my finger to touch the icon, though it gravitated automatically whenever my phone was in my hand, much to my curiosity. It’s definitely far more of a habit and a distraction than I realised.

Otherwise, I gave everything my full attention – not just my writing, but books I read, music that kept me company, food I cooked.  Choosing to focus, to tune out the usual constant distractions, it was incredible how much more I noticed and took in, savouring everything from the peppery depths of my watercress soup and subtle key changes in the music I was playing, to the smell of the air, the way light changed and the burn of hot tea in my sore throat.

Watercress soup - probably *the* best thing you can eat when trying to recalibrate, it completely detoxifies the body! And it's so yummy. I made Sarah Wilson's recipe in I Quit Sugar For Life.

I did yoga daily, something I haven’t done for a few years. Pigeon pose was incredibly comforting. I spent an entire Ludovico Einaudi song in uttanasana. I did my favourite episodes of Lacey Haynes’ Home Yoga Retreat many times.

I sat with my thoughts a lot, my journal open and a pen beside me, to scribble down anything worth remembering.

Sometimes I just sat and watched the light change. The light inside the house was very soft and as it hit the table and my piles of books, it looked milky, like when paint brushes are dipped into a jar of water. My iPhone camera didn't quite capture it so I just watched and took a picture with my mind instead.

I wrote a lot. Not the sort of things I thought I would write, interestingly. As the second day dawned, it became clear to me that this retreat was less about coming away with something to show for myself (which, if you've been reading me for a while, you know I enjoy) and more about getting my groove back.

Snapped while walking the quiet streets of Norwich city centre, sipping coffee. It seemed apt!

Why did I lose my groove though? I wondered in my more melancholy moments. I didn’t think I’d feel like this. Why do I feel so empty, when my dream has come true? I wrote. Why do I feel so exhausted and, if I’m honest, sad? How did I go from so pumped, disciplined and motivated to can’t-be-fucked and what’s-the-point?

And then I re-read Dani Shapiro’s masterpiece, which I highly recommend to any writer, Still Writing. I found it such a comfort last year, where I mostly read the “Endings” section. This time, the “Beginnings” section was far more resonant.  Reading this paragraph was like a warm reassuring hug:

When I’m between books, I feel as if I will never have another story to tell. The last book has wiped me out, has taken everything from me, everything I understand and feel and know and remember, and…that’s it. There’s nothing left. A low level depression sets in. The world hides its gifts from me. It has taken me years to recognise that this feeling, the one of the well being empty, is as it should be. It means I’ve spent everything. And so I must begin again.

If you have done your job…you’ve thrown your whole heart into this. And now your job is done. And you are bereft.

I wanted to cry as I read this. I had spent months thinking there was something wrong with me. My whole body flooded with relief that another writer, let alone one I deeply admire, felt this way too. 

I gave The Latte Years everything I had. So indeed, that has been the feeling, even though I have so many other ideas and stories I want to explore, over the last six months or so - that I had nothing left, both to say nor the capacity to say it. The Latte Years had been a part of my life for a long time – scratch that, it was my life, literally! - that being without it has been very strange. It's only been recently, staring down the barrel of October, that the tunnel has had light in it again.

The first draft of what became the book that was published in January this year was started in 2010. It wasn’t necessarily the story I wanted to tell, but the one I had to. It was bossy and barged to the front of the queue. Me first, it demanded. It was a story that had been hanging around ever since the events of it had taken place, a story that had me by the throat and wouldn’t let go until I told it. I knew attempting to write anything else in the meantime would be fruitless – and indeed, it was. And now it is done. 

So what ended up happening on this retreat was nothing earth-shattering, just a lot of journaling and several short pieces of fiction. Because after years and years of my writing being about this one thing, I am finding my feet again. It’s strange, like what I imagine training for another marathon might be like. I’m back at the beginning. But this time I don’t have the energy of the first-timer, when you have no idea what you’re in for, and everything’s exciting, and it’s purely the thrill of the unknown and whether you'll actually pull it off spurring you on. Once you know, it’s definitely harder to lace your shoes up.

Writing ingredients.

And something I have to remember is that while, yes, I wrote the manuscript for The Latte Years in three months, I had actually been trying to write that story for nearly five years prior to that. So, in theory, I’m way ahead of schedule for Book 2 and I need to stop beating myself up. Now is the time for thinking, gathering, marinating and, frankly, savouring. I worked so hard. It's OK to enjoy this and take a while before I dive in again. It makes sense to me to cultivate a strong practice, a mixture of discipline and play, so that I can get the juices flowing.

Retreats tend to spark the question "how can I keep this amazing, peaceful, zen feeling going in my life once I go home?" and I was no exception! I want balance and energy in my life, but I get very overwhelmed at the idea of trying to fit in everything I want to do with my time. The answer came very clearly towards the end of my time in Norwich and it felt like it had been staring me in the face all along. I am a fairly motivated and disciplined person but the secret to me achieving anything in life is to have projects, goals and deadlines. Without those things, I flounder. I always have.

Me, doing my best non-floundering face.

But the truth is, I’ve needed to take the pressure off myself this year and have a few less deadlines, goals and to-do lists. The only thing that has stopped me from hiding under the duvet each day has been going gently. Withdrawing quietly from anything non-essential that adds nothing to my life. Writing mostly for myself, filling journal after journal, knowing it will never be read by anyone else and revelling in the thrill of that. Trying not to beat myself up about not doing everything I feel I ‘should’ be doing. Time out from life showed me that I can’t force inspiration. I can’t force a story out of me, it will only happen naturally. And perhaps it has more of a chance of happening naturally if I give myself what I need. Like, nourishing and simple meals. Creative play. Daily yoga. Time out from being ‘on’. Daily journaling of my thoughts. Meditation, sitting, supporting my throat chakra (which needed a lot of help, it was no accident I had a sore throat. More on that in the next post!). Self care. The luxury of doing nothing and not feeling guilty about it.

There was a part of me that thought I’d come away from my days in Norwich with the start of the next book, and that didn’t end up happening. But what did happen was I locked the house on the last morning, walked to the station and sat calmly and happily with a coffee and magazine (no phone!) on the train back to London, and felt flooded with a renewed sense of purpose. I was returning to my life with a bit of clarity, a clearer vision and a new pleasure in my craft; a re-dedication to my practice; and a better awareness of what I need to feel creative and balanced, and to make sure I get those things, because that is the only way I will do my work.

In that respect, the retreat was a complete success.

Reading on the way back to London.....

Next post: how I healed my throat chakra in Norwich (now there's an article for the East Anglian Daily Times!)

Have you ever gone away on your own to retreat, recalibrate, start a new project or get your groove back? What did you discover?