The Journal

Several years ago my brother-in-law gave me this absolutely perfect journal. I fell in love with it immediately: the leather wraparound binding, the thick, lined paper, the loop for my favorite pen. The whole first day I had the journal, I admired it, pictured myself curled up in front of a fireplace writing in it, fastened and unfastened the strap… but never wrote a single word.

Soon the question occurred to me: When I say I want to be a writer, what do I mean? Do I want to surround myself with the trappings and the ambiance of a writer? Do I want to be identified, labeled, and known as a writer?

Or is it possible that I actually want to write?

That’s the question that, when I keep it in mind, motivates me. Time to close Facebook, stop organizing my desk again, and just write.

When it comes to your work, first things first: If you don’t do, you can’t be.

Thanks for reading,
PS: After some thought, I decided to use the journal to record quotes I want to remember. Inspiration for writing, thoughts on life that help me get my head in the right place, examples of memorable description, that sort of thing. I’ll share some of those next week.

About Jan C. Johnson

Welcome! If you like food, reading, laughing over life's little disasters, and maybe thinking about the bigger things of life, you have come to the right place. Besides blogging, I write humorous fiction, though real life tends to leave fictional humor in the shade. But I'm not a total goofball. No, really. I'm also working on a biography project. I live in North Texas with my husband, Brent. We enjoy bicycling, Mexican food, and traveling to visit our kids and grandkids.
This entry was posted in A Page From My Journal, I Remember When... (my OWN stories). Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Journal

  1. marlece says:

    Beautiful journal! I agree with you, it’s time to get after it and leave distractions behind! Look forward to what the Lord has in store Janice!


    • Thank you, Marlece! Right now He has me snickering over the quirks of my hometown and funneling the humor into a series of short novels. “Small-town East Texas humor with a side of mystery,” you might say.


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