Hi friends!

It’s been awhile since you’ve heard from me but I’m very excited to be back with a freshly launched Journaling Saves 2.0.

I launched journalingsaves.com in 2010 and the site blossomed over the next few years, including a large library of journaling resources, original articles, eBooks, a mailing list and even a podcast for awhile. Funny to think I was podcasting in 2010 before it was a “thing.” I plan to bring the Journaling Saves Podcast back online very soon.

Speaking of eBooks and mailing lists, if you’d like to join my email list and receive a weekly journaling prompt delivered right to your inbox, I’ll send you my eBook 30 Days to a Journaling Life for free. Just use the form below and you can start journaling minutes from now.

If you were a part of my previous email list, you’ll need to subscribe again because I changed email providers. It only takes two clicks! Sign up here! (You’ll snag my ebook for FREE when you do.)

Emerging from the Ashes

Journaling Saves was an active part of my life for several years and then other projects became a priority, including starting my own web design business. As much as it pains me to say it, I’ve recently learned that I can’t in fact do it all. I tried, trust me!

So as I focused on other projects, the Journaling Saves website remained as a live resource for folks to get inspired by the 150+ articles. I pressed pause on updates, podcasts and social media.

And then a horrible thing happened. In 2018 my web server had a meltdown and I lost everything, including my redundant cloud storage. The website was finished.
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Happy Birthday to Journaling Saves! Early January of last year, I hit “publish” on the very first post.

I’ve learned A LOT in the past year through creating this website. Here are my Top 7 epiphanies of the first year.

Before I start, I have to warn you, this is a total Sapfest 2011. Be prepared for ridiculous amounts of emoting, gushing, and shameless gratitude. If Emo is not your cup of tea, I’ll be sure to write a super-snarky post for next time. 😉
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What would posess someone to get up on stage and read the most embarrasing passages from her teenage diary to a theater full of strangers?

I’m still trying to figure that out, even after my regular participation in the Salon of Shame.

I’ve been attending the Salon of Shame as a spectator for several years. The premise is simple: half a dozen people, mostly in their 30’s, get up on stage and read passages from their teenage diaries. Any subject matter is fair game. Explanations and post-scripts are discouraged – shame is best delivered straight-up. You’ve got five minutes at the microphone.

Meanwhile, sign-language interpreters translate your words into grand gestures for the hearing-impaired portion of the audience. The ASL interpreters are often the highlight of the show.

I decided this summer it was time to participate, since I have over 100 notebooks filled to the brim with laughable material. Oh, and I run a website about journaling. Right.

Reading at the Salon of Shame has been an eye-opening experience. Here’s what I learned.
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I received an email this week that one of our fellow journalers passed away on Saturday. Her name was Stephanie and I want to tell you a little bit about her because she had a big impact on me.

Stephanie was one of the earliest and most active readers of this web site. She often sent me encouraging emails telling me how much she appreciated me and the work I was doing. She told me she’d started writing again because of me. There is no greater gift in the world than for me to hear those words.

We bonded over our love of Blueline notebooks, which she ordered after I recommended them. Her frequent love notes often brought tears to my eyes.

The most incredible part is that during this time of selfless support, Stephanie was very ill. She had had a difficult couple of years as one affliction after another ravaged her body.

I had no idea she was sick until her husband notified me of her passing. That’s the type of person Stephanie was – she would offer love and support without drawing attention to herself or what she was going through.
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I went to the free art journaling demo at Daniel Smith Art in Seattle on Saturday and it was a total blast. Liesel Lund lead the demo and she showed us how to make our own journal. Then she talked about some of her favorite products and showed us a few techniques for art journaling. She even shared some of her art journals — all of which were amazing. My favorite was an underwater-themed art journal with cut-away pages that reminded me of books I had when I was a kid. The kind with holes in the middle that slowly reveal more of the picture. Very cool.

I’m definitely signing up for the hands-on workshop in August that she’s teaching there – Intro to Art Journaling. It seems right up my alley since I’m pretty new to the format as an actual genre (though I’ve been collaging for a hundred years). Liesel also hosts workshops at her home in Phinney Ridge and several of them looks fabulous. Can’t wait to dig in.

So I was going to take photos of the event to share, but there was a big “NO PHOTOGRAPHY” sign at the front of the room when we arrived. Not sure why, but I didn’t want to get kicked out so I obeyed. (For the most part.) But the set-up reminded me of a cooking class, with Liesel at the front working at a big counter, with an enormous mirror overhead so we could watch her work.
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I got a new work studio. Journaling daily about needing my own space was the impetus. But I think my mouthy cat, Princess Nevadelia Lotus Blossom, may have pushed me over the edge.

Delia and I often have lengthy conversations. I go on and on and she responds. Some days when I’m not feeling talkative, she just carries on for hours by herself.

It’s all very charming until you’re trying to record audio. I’m recording this new journaling podcast, talking to you guys, and Delia naturally thinks I’m chatting with her because there’s nobody else in the room. Cats just don’t get technology.

It’s bad enough that I’ve got competition with the bed and breakfast across the street. The groundskeeper is super psyched about his new diesel-powered pressure washer and spends hours a day scrubbing the sidewalk. And now we host Romper Room with a fleet of six-year-olds playing soccer in the tiny courtyard of my apartment building. And the buses, and the car alarms, and the barking dogs. (Yes, I know I live in the city. Thanks for reminding me.)
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