“It has a slapdash and vigour and sometimes hits an unexpected bull’s-eye. But what is more to the point is my belief that the habit of writing thus for my own eye only is good practice. It loosens the ligaments. Never mind the misses and the stumbles.”
– Virginia Woolf, A Writer’s Diary
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“One Saturday, after spending the morning in the laboratory, I bought a fat notebook, and settled down to writing my own statement of what I believed about my place in the world. I wrote for page after page, with a sense of freedom and release. I was objectifying doubts and miseries, pushing them to arm’s length. When I put down my pen, after several hours, I had a feeling that I was no longer the same person who had sat down at the writing table. It was as if I had been studying my face in a mirror, and learned something new about myself. From then on, I used my journal as a receptacle for self-doubt, irritation and gloom, and by doing so I wrote myself back into a state of optimism.”
– Colin Wilson, Dreaming To Some Purpose
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The books I like to read are more concerned with observations than solutions.
Treatises don’t appeal to me – I prefer the inner workings and fresh insights found in a writer’s diary.
These are free from prescriptions and carefully laid out arguments.
I find it hard to settle on definitive answers to life’s questions and enjoy reading others’ struggles with the same.
I like a writer’s ideas discovered on the fly, not those rooted in dogma or rendered inert from repetition.
Writing with an open mind.
A diary or journal might be less organised than a traditional book, but it has the advantage of easier digestion.
There is less for me to unpack whilst reading.
I relish spontaneity of thought.
It’s the only way I can write.
Bits here and there, assembled, disassembled, reassembled, with the purpose discovered along the way.
Imperfect, yes, but somehow the writing feels more free.
And so do I.
Conversations With Quotations 