Start Again, Where You Are Now (Eleanor Intro) (01/16/2020)

Start Again, Where You Are Now | The Weekly Atticus

January 16, 2021

A recap of the week's writing at Atticus Review. Introduction by Eleanor Gallagher.

This summer I threw all my journals into the dumpster, thirtysome years' worth. When the impulse hit me, I moved quickly. No ceremony, no second-guessing. I'd kept these notebooks all these years in the back of a closet in a box I only opened when it was time to add another. The only box more inaccessible was the one full of childhood mementos labeled, “stuff mom says I'll want someday.” That one (save the art) also went into the dumpster that day.The move didn't come out of nowhere. Labor Day weekend 2019, I'd dug out my journals to try to account for my actions during a difficult time a decade earlier: Were the stories I was telling myself about who I was then actually true? What had I been thinking when I'd made those big decisions?  I submersed myself in my journals for four days, becoming more uncomfortable with each page I read. I'd taken the morning pages/brain dump approach to journaling with an idea that writing about my problems would help me work them out. Now I saw that I had only been cementing my misery, day after day. I saw as well how I'd focused on minor problems instead of the big ones, the ones I'd gone in to research (hello, denial). After a few weeks of digging among the muck for gems, I put all the notebooks back into the box and shoved it back into the closet. Out of sight, out of mind. But of course they weren't. They haunted me. Who I'd been haunted me. How I'd unknowingly used writing against myself, focusing on problems and driving them deeper. Without getting too much into the details, I’ll just say that I didn’t want to let those notebooks stand as a record of my life. They felt incomplete, for one; for two, I knew I would never want to read them again, ever; they were toxic; I wouldn’t put myself through that again. Getting rid of them brought overwhelming relief.I’m still compelled to do morning pages, but I treat the exercise differently now. My new journal is a 4x6 mini notebook, 50 sheets. In the last several months, I've filled 18 of those pages front and back. I'm not mincing words, I'm just not leaving them legible. I write a line, then I write right over it. Again and again. It's exhilarating, it feels like freedom. Like breaking the rules. Like not taking seriously something I'm supposed to. Because I also don't write about my problems anymore, I write appreciations and wishes and I'm not sure what all else, but none of it is heavy.I love that my writing turns into pure visual art. The joy of shapes over shapes filling in spaces, of the curls and loops, the coincidence of letters. The way the paper indents and wrinkles and the audial element this adds especially when I use the back of the pages. How it looks when I write just once over the top, or when I write an entire page's worth of words on one line. I love that when I get distracted, I can't look back to where I was, I must start again where I am now. Sentences don't force me along a path, I don't have to finish my thought if it no longer pleases me. I love that I never know what I wrote the other day. Or even where I started today. I love that in the end, it doesn't matter. I love especially that there will never be an audience. Or sense. Or a story. Just small pages of blue scribbles, inscrutable, reflection-proof, judgement-proof. Journaling is play now. My morning pages lines give me energy like my old method never did. And the record I leave (though I am the only one who knows it) is one of joy.Thanks for reading. We're glad you're here. Eleanor GallagherAssistant Fiction Editor 

ATTICUS NEWS

Atticus Review is pleased to announce our 2021 Best Small Fiction Nominees.Thank you to all Atticus Review contributors for your great work.Best of luck  to Danit Brown, Gary Fincke, Alexsandr Kanevskiy, Anthony Varallo, and Lucy Zhang.READ THE NOMINATIONS

THIS WEEK AT ATTICUS

FICTIONOVENby Jan Stinchcomb"We are in the oven because the children are so resourceful. Good listeners. Problem solvers. Self-preservationists.Everything you want your kids to be."READ ON

POETRYBECAUSE I CAN'Tby Sarah Freligh"...shake the image of the man tethering his dogin what he believed would be a safe place, I givemy cats extra scrooches and though they are too fat..."READ ON

POETRYBECAUSE I CAN'Tby Sarah Freligh"...shake the image of the man tethering his dogin what he believed would be a safe place, I givemy cats extra scrooches and though they are too fat..."READ ON

CREATIVE NONFICTIONHAIR: A CHRONOLOGYby Nora Newhouse"Thelma takes you and Em to the barbershop. The barber gives you a boy’s haircut. Afterwards he gives you a Bazooka Joe bubblegum and you stare at the comic on the wrapper that you can’t yet read."READ ON

MIXED MEDIAMUSCLE / MEMORY: NIGHTBIRDby Margot Douaihy"In 'Muscle / Memory: VRse,' a virtual-reality poetry project, I'm merging spatial computing and poetic precepts to explore the relationship between space and imagination."READ ON

SUPPORT ATTICUS!

We are able to bring you content such as this through the generous support of writers and readers like yourself. Please consider becoming a regular

today. All subscription levels include free submissions.