Before I let the outside world in in the morning, I sit down with a half-sheet of recycled paper and write. Not in a beautiful leather journal. Not with intention-setting prompts. Just whatever happened yesterday, how I slept, what the light looks like outside my studio window.
Then I throw it away.
I know that probably sounds shocking. We’re told to keep journals, preserve our thoughts, document our creative journey. But here’s what I’ve learned after years of barely-started notebooks and abandoned practices: journaling the “right way” just doesn’t work for me.
And I’m guessing it might not work for you either.
The Pressure of January “Shoulds”
There’s something about January that brings out all the “shoulds” – especially for creative people. You should journal daily. You should document your process. You should track your creative insights for future reference.
But what if you’re not broken just because prescribed methods don’t fit your actual nature?
Two Ways I Actually Journal (Without Keeping Journals)
I’ve found two approaches that work with how I’m actually wired rather than fighting against it.
The Half-Sheet Practice
Every day (or most days), I fold a piece of regular letter paper in half. Nothing precious – often it’s from the recycling pile. I write on that half-sheet about my day, my sleep, the weather, studio happenings, things I’m processing. Whatever wants to come out.
Then I’m done with it. Completely done. I don’t keep these pages and I certainly don’t go back and reflect on them.
That’s the part that seems to shock people most. But making the practice ephemeral – the paper isn’t precious, the words aren’t precious – that’s what freed me to actually do it.
Journaling Under Paint
The second method connects directly to my art practice, and this is the one I want to talk about more because I think people don’t realize this counts as real journaling.
I start many of my paintings by writing on the surface. Sometimes I write about the intention of the piece. Sometimes I process emotional stuff. Sometimes I write about what’s happening in my life, things that need expressing. The content doesn’t matter as much as getting that energy onto the paper.
Then – and this is the important part – I paint over it.
I use gesso, or paint, or various media to obscure those words completely. When I use watercolor crayon for the writing, it smears beautifully under the gesso, creating these gorgeous marks and textures. The act of covering it transforms both the words and the surface beneath.
This IS journaling. It’s processing, expressing, releasing. But instead of preserving those thoughts, I’m literally painting them into the foundation of what comes next. The energy stays in the work. The words don’t need to.
Permission to Do It Your Way
Hear me on this: if journaling hasn’t worked for you, you’re not lazy. You’re not undisciplined. You’re not doing it wrong.
There are other ways.
Some of us need impermanence and release rather than preservation and reflection. Some of us work better with our hands than with perfect penmanship in bound books. Some of us need to make the practice ephemeral to make it sustainable.
Your creative practice gets to work with your actual nature instead of fighting against it.
Watch Me Work
I recorded a quick video showing both of these methods in action – the half-sheet practice and the painting-over-words process. You can see how the watercolor crayon smears under gesso, creating that textured foundation I love working on.
This is art outside the velvet rope. Making your own rules. Trusting what actually works for you.
Either this resonates or it doesn’t. But if you’re tired of forcing yourself into methods that don’t fit, maybe it’s time to try something that honors how you actually create.
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Shine your light!