Consider whether you want lines or no lines, whether you’ll be writing inside or on the go, or whether you prefer something large or portable. Or maybe you start a novel.īelow, I share notebook options for those who want to begin a practice for 2021 or refresh their old notebook. Perhaps you let yourself lose it over how uncertain the world is. Perhaps you just list bluntly what you did that day or draw an emoji. Your journal is a safe space, and it can be as simple or as complex as you want it to be. New journalers, try not to let a fear of writing or fatigue deter you. Even flipping back to January of last year, so much has changed (clearly), and carving time for reflection feels so important. Certain themes and behaviors pop out over time, certain moments, conversations, exchanges with strangers on the street, that I’d forgotten and am thankful I saved for later reading.

I like looking back at my journals periodically to see how much has changed, what the headlines were, how I was feeling. It’s less of a record and more of an imperfect unpacking of the chatter inside my head. I scribble down quotes, story ideas, lists, jokes, complaints, letters to myself, purposefully disregarding formal structure. I doodle, paint, get mad, and write mad things in big, mad letters. In these pages I let myself really breathe. My second journal is a larger, 9' x 12' Strathmore “visual journal.” It’s unlined, with thick paper that’s substantial enough that my markers and inks don’t bleed. I also note my mood (on a fluctuating, subjective scale of 1 to 10 for anxiety), things I’m grateful for (a rare night of good sleep, my cat’s purr, a memorable meal, a new dress), and the weather. The first is a page-a-day Moleskine planner in which I quickly note everything that transpired on that date, including the “boring” stuff. At 30, I landed on my magic combo: I now keep two journals. Went home”) or childish (“Does everyone hate me?!”) for its fancy pages.Īt 28, after a diagnosis of stress-induced epilepsy, I experimented with different types of journals as a way of managing my anxiety and also to help improve my memory, which has grown spotty with the anti-epileptic medications I take (and with age). Looking at my notebooks from my teens and 20s, there’s a progression from lined pink diaries that I used sporadically to small black unlined Moleskines, to even tinier, expensive, delicately papered ledgers that I ultimately never wrote in, since everything I wanted to write seemed too mundane (“Went to Trader Joe’s. I felt that way for a long time too, because I hadn’t figured out the kind of journaler I was. Of course, I totally understand that journaling can seem time-consuming, overwhelming, or like one of those things you always mean to do but never get to, like therapy or meditation. I highly encourage you to consider starting a journaling practice this new year too, however big or small, as a reminder that each day was a whole, entire day that you lived, breathed, felt, grew, grieved, laughed, and loved, often in great emotional waves. It is largely this reflective writing that kept me somewhat grounded amid the chaos that was 2020-and will hopefully continue to do so in 2021.

But I’ve always maintained a notebook in some way, especially as I’ve grown older, and in 2019 I finally committed to a serious journaling practice. I’m not an obsessive journaler actually, I’m consistently inconsistent about the frequency with which I write. In my apartment, I keep almost every journal I’ve ever written, from first grade on.

Urban gridded notebook