Home    411 On Momo    Reviews    Review Policy    Contact

Mar 9, 2011

Momo's 17th Birthday Bash: Day 4

First of all, isn't this ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ image super cute? I love the colors and it just . . . brightens up my day! LOL :)

Today I want to ask you all one question before we continue on with another author guest post!

Question: In 17 words or less, describe what reading means to you! *__*

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

I Still Suck at Journaling

Last year, after five years of living in a apartment with sunflower walls and a series of rotating roommates, I decided to move.  This entailed me packing up a drawer of things that I hadn’t even looked at since I first moved to New York with dreams of hanging out on fire escapes (scary!) and finding a job in publishing (also scary, but with free books!) What I found was a mishmash of forgotten memorabilia from high school, some welcome—a script of Anything Goes with my old part of Evangeline Harcourt highlighted—and some hideously embarrassing, like a stash of Lisa Frank rainbow leopard stickers that I had decided to keep for reasons that can only be linked to latent insanity.

And then there were the journals. Oh, the journals.

I always had dreams of being a writer, even when I had dreams of being a marine biologist and/or a forensic anthropologist who somehow didn’t actually have to mess around with skeletons. (“Hey! There are bones over there!” I would say, and let my hardy crew handle the rest). Because I wanted to be fully informed about the process of writing before I dove right in, I inhaled writing guides. One of my favorites was Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones, which stressed the need for daily journal writing. In fact, all of the writing guides stressed the need for daily journal writing.

So I bought a journal, a purple psychedelic looking ringed number that I was sure would be the beginning of an illustrious writing career. There was only one problem: I had about a day’s worth of journaling in me before I ran out of things to write about, and would then bore myself trying to write multiple paragraphs about various things in my room. A part of me thinks this is because I had too many ideas about being a “serious writer”, so I would try to force myself to write about subjects I thought were poetic and literarily minded. What I should have done is let myself write about what my sixteen-year-old self really wanted to write about, which in many cases was trouble with friends, feelings of insecurity, and yeah okay, the occasional boy who was wonderful but also sight deficient, because he wasn’t in love with me or my non-starting journaling habit.

Every time I would fail to keep up with one journal, I would wait a few months and then buy a new one. I bought a shimmery gold one. I bought one entirely covered in fake leopard fur. I bought a more “mature” blue one with nice white flowers, but the result was always the same. Still, I kept them just in case, resulting in a sunny afternoon where I put all the boxes aside and spent some time catching up with sixteen-year-old me, overeager to be a “real writer” and skipping around all the things she really wanted to say.
It kills me a little now to think that if I had trusted her a little, I might have a memory teenage me rather than five labored paragraphs about the ivy that was growing on my bedroom window.  But it did give me a very valuable reminder that it’s always better to write what you want to write rather than what you think you should be writing. And that has to be worth something, even if it’s just a Lisa Frank rainbow leopard sticker that I held onto. You know, just in case.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Ah! I keep a journal too! I just got one for my 17th birthday! This is my third journal, btw! My goal for this one is to write in it for the next 365 days of my life as a seventeen year old whether the entries are short, pointless, or whatever - I'm going to try and accomplish that! Anyway, awesome post A. M. Robinson!


  1. Awesome post. I really suck at keeping a journal too. I always think it'd be cool to keep one but then I get a journal and I fill in a few pages. Then - I stop. I just can't consistently write in a journal.

  2. Reading is my air, my escape, my happiness. Without books the world would be very dull.

    Oh and happy birthday bash Momo!


Thanks so much for stopping by Books Over Boys! You're a fun little lollipop triple dipped in awesomesauce. ;p