You’d think a writer would be able to keep a diary, but it’s something I’ve never been able to accomplish. Oh, I tried, especially as a teenager when I’d see my sister scribbling frantically as she poured her heart and soul onto paper. I even had a notebook that came with lock and key to make it official. I’d start with “Dear Journal,” and then freeze. After all, how does one begin to reveal the depth of their innermost thoughts and feelings? And when you’re the oldest of ten kids, you’re justified in thinking someone might read it. So I wrote about the weather. Filled those pages with weeks’ worth of sunny and cloudy updates. I was excited when it rained.
I still can’t keep a journal, but I’ve discovered the wonder of expressing my thoughts and feelings through my fictional characters. It’s a journey interspersed with vulnerable moments along the way. I’ve decided I don’t want to hide behind my characters. I want to live through them. As for the weather, it still gets incorporated into my writing, though it’s no longer the main attraction.