On Writing Less

Meta, of course, to write prolifically about writing less.

Lately my handwritten journal entries have been pretty numb and painfully plain. Nothing much gets the motor going in the way of profound. But I still fill my morning pages. And I have to say reading those “boring” ones back a year plus later are some of the most fun. They’re bland and matter-of-fact. They may just be a list of what I need to get done that day. The boring makes for a pretty exciting read back sometimes. So I keep scribbling away anyway. Plenty of my journals from childhood, written in pencil on a torn page simply say “I don’t feel like writing. Goodnight. Love, Kiley.” And those read back so hilariously to me. Look at me, writing about not writing.

One of my surefire tips for people who don’t regularly journal ask me how to get the journaling engine revved was to just start writing about anything, even if it's that you have nothing to write about. Often I'd just write about my journal itself. Color? Where I got it or who got it for me? What else happened the day I got the journal? Who made this journal? Or, same exercise for the pen, or perhaps a ring on my finger, or that cut on my hand, etc.

As you observe your hand, you write what you see. Then you work up your arm if still no other substantial thoughts have entered your sphere. Maybe that’s why I got my whole right arm tattooed into a sleeve: so I could continue to observe my arm and write, write, write.

Mostly I find it so silly when people say they have nothing to write about. You simply have to start. You could start writing about not wanting to write. Talk about what you’re writing in or on. Where’d it come from? Do you like it or not? Do you have no thoughts? Why don’t you have any thoughts? What’s going on in your brain instead if you’re not having thoughts? What’s going on in your brain when you do have thoughts? And oh boy you’ll have plenty to write about if you start moving beyond thoughts and into feelings. Hell if you get all the way there you might start writing poems or songs out of pure necessity.

Currently, I’m sitting at Grandma’s front table.

Things are pretty beige here, as you can see. And they only get more beige as you move about the home. The couches are beige and the walls are beige as are the blinds and the curtains.

For a while I can enjoy being in an environment that is not mine. Simply for the experiment. Being in anyone else’s space… a friend’s, an airbnb, the soulless feel of a hotel for obvious reasons, is an interesting experiment in writing for me because it all influences what and how I write. I know how my creative process and my style of handwritten journaling is influenced by my surroundings, whether I’m writing about the surroundings or not.

Here at Grandma’s, the trade off to the beighe is that there is a cat. And I definitely prefer to journal by a cat whenever possible. In fact, if there is a cat in the vicinity, it will appear nearby during journal time. Dogs do not provide the same auric management or channeling services, though they are certainly fun and precious to write about or to enjoy on a writing break.

I just ate eggs with hot sauce and now I’m drinking my coffee which has gone cold. What a shame.

Grandma is milling about the kitchen with her buggy, doing her thing. Whatever he thing is. I used to get annoyed but I’ve learned after living with her for 7 months that she must. What else is her life then?