I started writing when I was 9-years-old. It was long after the days of typewriters, but not yet the days of household internet, and I wrote on our family’s shared desktop monstrosity. My first masterpiece (as it felt at the time) was a novella called Dol & Phin, which was a story about the strength of two dolphins’ friendship as they were tested by scary ocean events.

Since then, I have always practiced writing. By “always” I mean that writing is something I return to again and again. Sometimes writing lies dormant for a period in my life–a week, or in some cases years– but eventually I am snapped back into it. It compels me. 

These days, I write less about the land of fictional ocean friendships. Instead, writing helps me process my thoughts and perceptions. It enables me to work through my ideas and vet them for merit. It helps me understand and accept my emotions. Without it, my interactions with others are less consistent. I appreciate the learning that comes from the experience of doing it.

Added up, my writing consists of bits of life captured as journal entries, ideas, lists, plans, long-erased white board art, and interpersonal communication. I have journals and ideas notebooks galore–most of them used up to their last page. I have dozens of Google docs that scroll seemingly forever, with everything from business plans to blog posts to marketing scratchpads.

With all this writing, it’s a bit surprising to me that I have very few rituals around doing it. I don’t have a set time of day that I write. I don’t have a strict type of writing that I do. It’s okay if I skip a day (or a month). Writing is consistently a part of my life, and I haven’t needed to build a ton of structure for it to survive.

It’s natural for me to write during this time of year, but  I’ve never found a practice that suits me so exactly that I want to do it again next New Year’s. Every year is different. Some years I don’t write at all. Other years, my writings are a Tasmanian devil of movement, crossing sloppily over notebooks, whiteboard meanderings, and napkin scribblings.

Three Handwritten Pages 

This year, I felt compelled to write three handwritten 8.5x11 college-ruled pages everyday from Christmas to New Years. I mention the size because they are big pages - opening up my notebook to the next blank page feels like confronting a seemingly insurmountable peak. 

It was seven consecutive days of structured writing. The structure was simple: I could write about anything I wanted, but it had to take up three handwritten pages, and I needed to do it with my pen moving almost continuously. These pages would have similar value to my other used-up notebooks: documentation of forward movement during a moment in my life. Thus, there was no topic too boring, inconsequential or shameful to write about. 

Writing

I had the week off from work, and it rained every day. I quickly found out that it’s very difficult to write three handwritten pages a day. 

First of all, you need the right surface to write on–curling up with a notebook in your lap isn’t going to cut it anymore (one of my favorite journaling positions). You need something sturdy, like a lap tray with legs, or sitting more formally at a desk. 

Secondly, you need the right pen. A ballpoint pen requires too much effort to write with, exhausting your hand halfway down the page. You need a pen that can glide smoothly without you needing to push on it to get the ink out. Rollerball pens, as it turns out, are perfect for this. (I learned a lot about pens that week.)

Finally, once you’re using the right tools correctly, the act of writing takes freaking forever. (For example, I just worked on the previous sentence for three minutes, and it feels like even longer!)

There were a lot of things going against me, not the least of which was my lack of ritualistic writing experience. Fortunately, I had a lot of stuff on my mind. It felt difficult and sludgy to get through, but I had things I wanted to think through and work out. And day after day, the three handwritten pages got done.

Material

I had a lot of material to write about. Having the week off from work completely changed the context of my days. I woke up purposefully each day without a to-do list, and managed to spontaneously knock out popular to-do list tasks I normally tell myself I’ll get to someday (not today)--the tasks that when left undone for too long tug at my stress levels like a dog insisting to be walked. I went through our entire house–rooms, closets, cupboards, boxes, shelves. I organized, I cleaned, I found things to donate. I went for hikes in the rain. I picked fights with Oli. I spent less time cooking (sometimes a chore for me). I connected with family. I read philosophy. I resolved fights with Oli.

When it was time to write each day, I had plenty of material to talk about. Mostly I wanted to utilize my New Year’s writing to imagine the person I’d like to become:

How I want to design my life. 

How I want to approach new challenges (and the fear that goes along with that). 

How I want to be with others. 

What’s important to me (i.e. priorities). 

How I want to provide for my needs. 

What I’m looking forward to. 

My handwritten pages meandered through various territories. I calculated different morning routines. I attempted drafts of thoughts about my ideal schedules. I contemplated how I want to engage with different aspects of my life, documenting examples of my current challenges, and imagining what I ought to aspire to in my interactions with others.

Page after page I spent ruminating about what I’d like to see my life become. What’s interesting is that I’m not typically someone who muses about the future. I’m known to be someone who thinks a lot about the past. Yet, I didn’t feel the need to reflect on what happened during the year in any of my pages. 

I was more interested in things to come.

Purpose of the Pages

These pages are not meant to be either a prescription, recipe or to lock me into a set of possibilities. Their purpose is to set my wheels in motion in a particular direction, hopefully one with less potholes, blind turns, and detours. They're here to help me close the gap between the person I am and the person I’m capable of being. 

For the time being, I am committing to continue the daily pages project. I may even be ritualistic about it (I may also not be, which would also be fine).

Writing aside, I appreciate this time each year. I can’t help but to find myself pondering a broader view of my life around New Year’s. Reflecting on each day as it happens throughout the year is great, but it’s also important to extend the time period to take in more of the story. Daily reflection is limited to the accomplishments of too small a time period to be significant to the flow of the story. With a longer storyline, you begin to understand how characters got to be the way they are, and how they’re moving forward through the story. 

In a very sweet way, I found myself this year pondering the question of how I want to be in the world. I don’t know what I’m going to do with that, but my hope is that life will begin to feel sweeter and sweeter as I’m living it. 

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