Home                                                                                      Go to Writing & Poetry Therapy

Writing Lesson
by Traci Moore

Editor's Note from Sue Meyn: A lovely essay about how we can use our journaling to support our more focused writing. Enjoy.

Last summer something unexpected happened to me at camp. Though we call it camp, we don’t sleep in tents, but instead, in the quaint Spanish dorms at our small California women’s college. During our four-day sojourn, we join our alumnae sisters—  graduates of classes 1945 to the present—for bird walks, artsy or thought-provoking workshops, reading, yoga, and lounging by the pool. On the final night we celebrate with a nice buffet, art show and stage performance where we share our camp creations.

At the finale last year I read a light-hearted essay that prompted laughter from the audience, and an invitation for me to teach a writing workshop at camp the following summer. This proposal amazed me. Working with small groups of writers had long been one of my goals. I was grateful and excited. The friendly camp environment would be the ideal place for a green teacher to host her first class.

Months later, when the workshop planning phase arrived, I started to worry. My biggest problem was how to begin the workshop. Next I wondered which material to present, and how I would engage the students. Did I need visuals? A short lecture? How much writing time? And perhaps the most important question: what should I not do? Unsure of the answers, I stepped away from my desk and retired to my easy chair in the corner of my office.

For a while I just sat there and thought about breathing. I felt overwhelmed and frustrated. However, it didn’t take me long to realize what might help. I grabbed a pen, opened my journal to a clean page, and began to write.

The first few paragraphs were gobble-dee-gook, but I didn’t care; as many writers agree, gobble-dee-gook is perfectly acceptable in one’s journal. After that, I scribbled a few pages about my fears. Then in a stream-of-consciousness fashion, I wrote out my goals for this writing workshop: the logical, the whimsical, and the crazy. An hour later, my outlook had changed considerably. I felt calm, even optimistic. When I set down my pen and looked more closely at all those pages covered with handwriting, I saw the answer:

Journaling.

The writing workshop I would host next summer would begin with a segment on journaling. Of course! Because the most natural starting point—  for addressing any project, emotion or challenge—has always been my journal.

My enthusiasm for journaling started when my fourth grade teacher gave us floppy composition books and asked us to write about “something”  each day. In early entries I described what cereal my sister and I ate for breakfast, or when my brother had a tantrum. As I aged, journal writing became less inane and more necessary. Filling blank notebooks with my thoughts helped me accept and move through adolescence, marriage, divorce, parenting, odd careers and not-so-smart life choices.

Over time, journaling classes and discussion groups have given me a broader understanding of the advantages of personal writing. I’ve learned journaling techniques that offer the most valuable therapeutic benefits. Maintaining a regular journaling practice for the past thirty years has allowed me to address emotions, clarify life goals, sketch out creative ideas and gain the confidence necessary to become what I’ve wanted to be since childhood: a working writer and editor.

In seven months, I’ll pack up my sunscreen, sun hat, journal and teaching materials and head to my alma mater for camp. Knowing journaling will be a part of my workshop curriculum, I feel hopeful. Because now I can see it: before a group of smiling students, I’ll introduce myself, and probably laugh. Then I’ll hold up my journal, suggest a few ideas—like be as free as you want for a few minutes, this writing is just for you—and let the women roll. We may try a short journaling exercise and discuss the experience. Then we’ll just stretch out, breathe a little, and coast into another sort of writing: writing that might one day become a mystery or a tragedy, a memoir, or a poem. 

About the Author

Traci Moore holds a Certificate in Creative Writing from Phoenix College. Her fiction and essays have appeared in Emprise Review, Long Story Short, Scripps Magazine and elsewhere. Her short story, “If Pictures Could Fly”, was runner-up for the 2011 Martindale Literary Prize. www.tracimoore.org.