For a writer, I’ve always been bad at keeping a journal. The journals I do have are sporadic, have one only entry from January 1 and then are filled with random scribbles on the remaining pages, or are from when I was 8 and overly emotional. As such, my only written memories from my time in Paris are my blog and some melodramatic essays I wrote the following semester.
I knew that this time in France had to be different.
I am still bad at keeping a journal, I won’t lie about that. I’m really good at coming up with pithy, one-sentence openers but falter when I have to actually expand on a fleeting thought (at one point I was sure “Most of my life happens in the limbo between a bise and a hug” would launch into a full story, but alas it hasn’t).
Before I moved to Aix, I read about Janice MacLeod and her book Paris Letters (and I talk about them a lot!). These letters and illustrations became the inspiration for my own carnet de voyage, where sometimes, on particularly uneventful nights, I find myself watercoloring and writing about a time, a place, a moment–or even just a memory. I haven’t been the best of keeping up with it (watercolors take time y’all) but I know that someday it will be a complete work of art, ready to tell my story, if only in glimpses. The watercolors aren’t Monets and the grammar isn’t always perfect, but that’s ok–they’re mine (and any publishing deal would require an editor, anyway ;).
My goal for 2015, in France and elsewhere (where though has yet to be determined someone please hire me for the summer), is to complete 24 more entries. Two a month. One every two weeks. Anything to pick up a paintbrush. Hopefully, you all can help hold me accountable. ♦