Growing with a Process Journal: Foundational Series, Part 3

This piece—part 3 in the “foundational series”—had to be separate from the journal-keeping piece. “Process journal” is its own thing.

Though between journal-keeping, reading with a reading log, and recording and reflecting on writing (aka process journal), it is a Venn diagram with three circles overlapping.

Some years ago teaching, I realized how hard it is to really hold on to one’s thoughts and gleanings after a time of workshopping stories as a group; minds would be opened and spinning, and points made and gained would be lost in the transition from workshop to bus to home… to pulling out the story again, for a new look.

So I began to ask writers to pause before walking away from the experience, to record even just five minutes of thought. To pin thoughts down to paper in the daily rush and jumble.

From that came the realization that it is an idea to do the same for the daily writing time—to log the challenges and accomplishments, the questions, the partial answers.

Key to growing as a writer

Lasting growth as a writer is about our capacity to push and question our selves. It takes a certain kind of honesty. And ego. And balance between the two. The perseverance to continue even after those days that are not in balance—those days when we are hard on ourselves. (Or too light, and need to push.)

The key is to understand our own process. This grows over time. As I wrote in the journal-keeping piece, the changes we experience over time, can ONLY be documented as we are going through the minutiae of our days.

If you really want to write, then it is not enough to write when you are feeling “inspired”—those days tend to be too few. And there are days that are just tough to eke out anything, even a paragraph. A process journal will hold you to task, and shine a light on both good days and bad. And how to emerge from “bad.” Sometimes it’s as easy as reminding yourself to take a walk—because that’s what you did last month, and it helped.

You re-read earlier pages of process, and recall. You might also recall that you’ve emerged—whole—from a period of feeling “I have nothing to say!” And step by step, in front of you, is just how you did that emerging.

When

Are you someone for whom ritual is sacrosanct? You always have a cup of tea after dinner? You put your clean folded laundry directly into the drawers, never leave it on the bed? Your routine cannot be altered?

Use this for your writing. This means that you choose a time to record in your process journal, and then stick with it. You might try several approaches first, but once you’ve settled on one, you stay with it for maximum benefit.

The options are

—recording before your write

—recording at some point during your writing session for the day

—recording at the conclusion of your writing time

—recording at another time of day

1. Before: Are you a planner? Working in your process journal before you write might be about planning. Or it might indicate that you are a writer who needs time to mull over—even subconsciously—immediately before you start to work. And that you do indeed work though in your mind before pen to paper, fingers to keys.

Or it may be that you need to “warm up.” And scribbling beforehand will allow you that.

2. During: Do you often feel “stuck” in the middle of your writing time? You get up, wander off for another coffee, and maybe don’t return? Yet when you begin your writing time, you are just fine with leaping in—you don’t feel a need to warm up.

It may work best for you to leap in, and when you need a “break,” that can be your time. It will cause you to feel fortified and you can go on. (I often have 10 minute naps mid-afternoon and mid-writing for the same reason.)

3. After: Maybe you are very aware of reflection, and you work without a warm up, without planning, and write your way into your work… and then, once done for the day, you do a retrospective of sorts. Using the process journal to conclude your day, might also serve as a subconscious invite to gestate ideas for tomorrow’s work; if you’re thinking that I have a lot of belief in “sub-conscious” writing, you’re correct. I’m convinced that this “post”-writing piece, or mulling before drifting off to sleep, is what brings story solutions to my mind. I write about questions I’m left with, or a re-cap of what I’ve written, or where I think I might go. At times, when I begin the next day’s work, I feel as if its readied itself to come out.

4. Another time: Recording at some other time asks for a bit more discipline from you; it could be so easy to become involved with all the rest of your life, and let this piece go. Still, you might need the step back and away from the writing to consider the process.

I’d suggest you give each of these four a try before settling in on one.

And if you are not a habitual type, then you may change it up for each project or every day. Although I am disciplined in many ways, I’ve also learned that I constantly change it up—usually “on the fly.” Is this who I am? Or is it the result of having three busy boys, and working and writing and running a home…?

I only know that this is how I work, and the keeping of my process journal does happen, but it does at varying times, according to what I seem to need at the time. And I have released any anxiety about lacking some pattern and ritual to it. Do find out just how it works for YOU.

Every project is its own

With each book, I learn something new or a-new about myself and about writing. For each long project, I purchase a new notebook to scribble in. I have kept laptop files, too, but there is something about the physical pen/paper that I need. It may just be that it is a different space from staring at the screen. Perhaps if I wrote drafts in long-hand, doing my process notes on computer might be just fine.

A note on that expectation of “Always carry a notebook”

I used to feel that I absolutely had to carry some means of recording on me at all times. After all, that is the timeless advice trotted out to writers.

One day I headed out my door for a much-needed walk, impatient to be out in the air and away from the writing task. Far from my house, an answer to a writing issue popped into my head. I panicked! I did not have my trusty notebook, not even my phone.

I do not have that good memory that writers are supposed to have. I found, as I walked, that I was forcing myself to remember what was coming to me. I found myself arguing with the words, wrestling, finding the shape and meaning in them. Because I had no way to record, I had to focus. It became an intense meditation of my work at hand. By the time I did reach my home, I was so ready to work.

I realized a value in not having a way to record. It made me think harder, to work to hold the thought, and commit to it. I began to routinely walk without a notebook after that… though I have to admit that for a time I did not venture far from home! Old habits die hard. But I have found this forced-focus invaluable. Generally, what I’m left with as I return to the desk is a piece much more thought through.

And the physical of walking is significant. Charles Dickens’ love of walking is well-known. Ten or more miles/day, in the afternoon, after writing all morning, or at times in the dead of night. It’s how he worked through his stories. It’s also how he came to know the streets of his stories and his city so well, and how he picked up anecdotes and bits of absurdity. Did he carry a notebook? I’ve tried to ascertain, but no luck. Let me know if you know!

What to write about

—your plans for the story, the plot, and the writing of it—language, tone, words

—notes on your characters—glimpses of them

—when you’re stuck—write about why you think you might be, what it feels like, that feeling of looking for a way in (or a way out); write about the writing

—keep a list of passages and scenes in the work that you know need re-visiting… for when you are in the right “mood” or “ready” (often, on days when I am not feeling at all inspired, I revisit this list, and find that some thought on this has been gestating, and is now ready. I think that the act of writing and pondering this list provokes this process)

—how you last emerged from feeling blocked—what worked

—quotes, pieces of research, a list of research that needs to be done (again, this is something you can do when you are having a not-good writing day—the research itself can get you writing. and eventually, the research does need to be done)

—where you are at emotionally, even intellectually (especially with research)

Process Journals to check out

John Steinbeck worked with a process journal regularly, and many are in print. Check out Working Days: The Journal of The Grapes of Wrath, (edited by Robert DeMott) and others. (In which you will see that Steinbeck had a miserable case of Imposter Syndrome.)

Timothy Findley’s Inside Memory, from his “writer’s notebooks,” is also worth a read.

Please post any ideas or questions in “comments”—would love to know your thoughts around this…