Journal Entries
General characteristics of good journal entries:
- spontaneity. Journal entries are informal (even though "informal" may be a misnomer because it suggests that the material is casual or unimportant. As the following entries should demonstrate, neither is the case). The goal is to allow yourself to be free, open to ideas and associations. The focus should be on generating and pushing thoughts, not necessarily on completing them.
- reflectiveness. A journal is not a diary. It does not simply report . . . it constantly asks the question, what is the significance of what I've encountered?
- a reaching out to make syntheses. Hook up with material from other classes, with your personal experience. Be speculative.
- awareness of oneself as a learner.
The two journal entries that follow were written by Guilford students in two different journal-writing situations:
Journal #1
Students were asked to read an interview with a published writer of their choice, then to write a free-form response.
In this entry, note the personal tone and the author's willingness to hook what he has read to his own experience and aspirations, resulting in an individual comment on the perceived relationship between alcohol and artistic creativity.
Last year I read "Where I'm Calling From," a short story by Raymond Carver. The piece was written in the first person by an alcoholic in a treatment center. A moving piece.
I just finished reading an interview with Raymond Carver. Fascinating! Oh, how it inspired me to write. Especially when Carver spoke of the moment he first sold a story--the euphoria, the celebration in opening the envelope to find an acceptance, a "validation" of the self. Quickly, I stop . . . My mind drifts to a time close by, when I too open up a first letter of acceptance. I have relived that moment, which I have never lived, a million times. As proud as Carver was at selling his 1st story, he explained that he was most proud of recovery from alcoholism.
On June 2, 1977, Carver quit drinking--for good. Most of the interview centered on his recovery process. I can relate, I am not an alcoholic, but I am a child in an alcoholic family. So spend much time in ACOA (Adult Children of Alcoholics) meetings. Learning. Growing. Living. Fixing. I am most proud of the time I've spent making my life healthy. Because I am more healthy, I think more clearly. I feel. I know myself better; therefore, I write better (or so I believe).
Carver addresses one of my pet peeves--the romanticism of drinking, as it pertains primarily to writing. For Carver, alcohol did not mix with writing. He simply did not write. He drank. Finally, when he quit drinking, Carver was able to write again.
I abhor the image of Hemingway, bottle in one hand, pen in the other. I know he could not write when he drank. Why do so many love to find hard drinking an admirable sport? Recently I picked up Jimmy Buffett's book Tales from Margaritaville. I put the book down within minutes--Buffet can not write of much other than his drinking experiences. I suppose this is slightly unfair; for I have not finished the book. Drinking. Writing about drinking. A cop-out on creativity.
Journal #2
Students were asked to read a chapter called "Voiced and Unvoiced Styles" in a course text entitled Analyzing Prose, by Richard Lanham, then to write a response covering any chapter element or elements they found interesting.
Note how the writer does the following:
- states a personal reaction
- brings in an author from another course (Hemingway, whom he was reading for an American literature class)
- tests the criteria from the chapter by applying them to this outside author
- reflects on the connection between this chapter and the one that preceded it
- tries to make a bridge to music and art
- concludes by noting a shortcoming in the chapter. He is thinking critically
One thing the author does not do is work out his thoughts coherently in a logical conclusion. That's o.k., even desirable. He has discovered an issue--indeed, a whole subject area--that he can pursue further in thinking, in reading, perhaps even in writing a formal paper.
This book gets better and better all the time. The previous chapter was more provocative to me, but this one was certainly fascinating. My first reaction to this chapter was to compare the voiced and unvoiced styles and compare them to writers I'm familiar with. The first comparison I thought of making was with Hemingway. When Hemingway is read aloud, the sentences feel awkward because they are so short. In conversation, we tend to connect more ideas in a sentence. The impression I get of Hemingway is very disjunct, it "feels" cubist, if that makes any sense. I speak of "Big-Hearted River Part I" in In Our Time.
It is my nature to try to refute a theory or theories, but it actually strengthens my faith in the theory if it stands this test. So, does Hemingway fit into one of these categories? Yes, he should be read aloud because when his prose is treated as voiced prose, he achieves a neat artistic effect: cubism. (Hemingway wrote of this story that one passage was written to describe a mountain scene as Cezanne would paint it). I think Hemingway is a good author to consider since he was discussed by Lanham earlier in the book.
I found it odd that Lanham would not make a tie between typography and voiced and unvoiced styles. Since the two chapters were put back to back, it's obvious that some sort of connection is there. I wonder how John Cage fits into this. As it is voiced, we are painfully aware of how the space between words discomforts us. Do we treat these spaces as ellipses or gloss over them? As it is voiced, there is an impression made upon the reader. This could also be an effect that avant-garde visual art has on a viewer.
It's interesting to note, now that we are discussing art, that poetry isn't mentioned. Most poetry is intended to be read aloud. It usually has a voiced style. E.E. Cummings has poems that are exceptions: take the poem "Grasshopper," for example. As the word "grasshopper" transmutates, the poet gives us words that are strictly unpronounceable. How do we read it? Most of his poetry is readable aloud. I guess that I wanted the topic of experimentation with voice in poetry to be addressed . . .