This is quite a long post, but it's very meaningful to me, and I think it's worth reading. So, grab a cup of coffee, sit in your comfy chair and get ready to learn more about conversational journaling. (Oh, and if you're the weepy sort, you just may need a kleenex, too!)
As we start to put a layout together conceptually, we sometimes see including detailed journaling as an obstacle.
I know I can certainly be guilty of that! But it doesn’t have to be that difficult. Getting your story on paper can be as easy as having a conversation with your sister on the phone or writing a letter to your best friend. Use your everyday voice and everyday language. Imagine that you are doing just that – having a chatty phone conversation or relating a story to your friend in a letter or e-mail – and start typing or writing. You could even write it as a letter and then send it – or hide it away forever.
This perspective is called conversational journaling and using conversational journaling on a layout is probably the most time consuming yet rewarding styles of journaling. It was also the final style of journaling I used for the journaling challenges I put together for the
Happy Be Scrappy crop for
Just Cre8.
Conversational journaling often lends itself to longer stories. It's all about the reason we scrapbook in the first place - to tell the stories of our lives, in rich detail. For this layout I pop-dotted my friend Cathryn and I in colour in our late 1980's clothes (eek - do you need sunglasses or what!) over a sepia version of the photo.
For this challenge, I decided to do something I’ve wanted to do for a long time – tell one of my dearest friends who lives many miles away how much I miss her. I truly feel a void in my everyday life when I want to have lunch with her or just hang out. We talk on the phone or webcam, we send e-mails, but it’s not the same as being there in person.
I thought the conversational journaling style was perfect for this layout, and I didn’t hold anything back. (I actually needed a few kleenexes while I wrote this!) Thanks, Cathryn, for being OK with me sharing this so publicly! :-)
Here are some gr8 tips for getting conversational journaling going:
1) Who is your audience? Who do you foresee this layout being most meaningful to in the future? Write your journaling with that person in mind.
2) Consider your voice. In most conversational pages, you are likely to be writing in first person, saying things like “I remember . . . “ or asking questions like “Do you remember how cold it was that morning."
3) Think about the 5 w’s surrounding this event, and what important elements you want to remember or share with your audience – Who is in the story or photo? Where were you? When did it happen? What about the event was funny, or sad, or meaningful in some way?
4) Think about how your 5 senses were impacted – What was beautiful or tragic to see about the event? How did it make you feel? What was significant about the smell, sound or temperature while you were there?
5) Dig deep. Don’t gloss over things, but instead, say what’s in your heart. This is probably the most important part.
Below is my journaling for this layout. Notice the points above – my audience, my voice, the 5 W’s, my senses, and the deepness of the story – are all present. This is now one of the most meaningful layouts I've ever created.
Journaling says:
I miss these girls.
I miss who we were back then. I miss all the time we shared. Back then we lived together, worked together, went to school together, did everything together, every day. We were best friends. We had big plans for our future – exciting places we were going to see, fantastic careers we were going to have, tremendous things we were going to do . . . and we talked, making plans, for hours and hours. We shared books and read voraciously. We learned to cross stitch and knit and crochet. We got our first credit cards. We shopped. A lot.
We drove everywhere in my ridiculous powder blue Chevette, which wasn’t quite so ridiculous back then. We ate from Wendy’s drive-thu. We talked about our dates. We spent ages perfecting our hair and make up. We hung around with Mark and Diana and went to Franklin’s to dance into the wee hours on Thursday nights and weekends. Sometimes we had fun. Sometimes we didn’t, but we kept going. Nothing was handed to us on a silver platter, but we kept striving for more.
We loved our lives, but we wanted bigger things, too. There was so much of life ahead of us; so much we didn’t know yet. We had yet to know the pain of losing any of our parents. I remember visiting your grandma; the smell of ravioli and Welsh cakes and tea – made as proper tea should be made. I remember how much she loved Bingo, and the blanket you gave her. I remember looking at old photos. I remember waving goodbye to her as we drove away, even though she could barely see over the kitchen window, she was so tiny. I remember when Ashley was born. I remember our apartment above the waterbed store, and meeting there the night of the tornado, afraid and worried for our families. I remember driving to Calgary listening to Madonna and staying at the Four Seasons Hotel. We thought we were so worldly, checking in with our Big Gulps, cassette player and shoebox full of tapes.
I remember that first Christmas turkey I made after my Dad died and my Mom went to Vancouver for Christmas. You and Colleen came over and told me it was wonderful, whether it really was or not. I remember watching your Dad’s car pull away from our apartment and head up the hill the morning he picked you up to go to the hospital. The day your Mom died. I remember weddings and funerals. I remember moving away; your plans to live in England – which you did, and my plans to visit you there – which I didn’t get to do. Postcards and letters and e-mails and more books shared.
I remember you being the maid of honour at my wedding. The photographer tried to get a good photo of the two of us, but we couldn’t stop laughing. Or crying. We ate from Wendy’s drive through that day for lunch. We danced into the wee hours. I remember visiting you with Evan when he was five months old. I was such a new Mom yet so full of love and confidence and hope. A baby does that – renews your hope for the good in life. We were hopeful.
No matter how long it’s been, we pick up where we left off. Just like old times. Last winter we were in tears within minutes of seeing each other. Life and the seriousness of it, it just takes over sometimes. The meanness of the world can be so crushing. Mortality is so real now, so pressing. We didn’t manage to do all of those great things we talked about in my Chevette – the architecture or the pharmaceutical science or the travelling or the changing the world. The set of books you gave my children, however, helped to shape their love of reading, their passion about the world, their thirst for knowledge. They are better people because of those books. And maybe they will do some of those great things one day.
Now Stephen and I are thinking about selling this house and moving, and I realize that we’ve lived here for over six years and you’ve never been here. We may move away and you’ll never see the house we brought our girls home to from the hospital. That makes me so sad. Some days I miss you so much. Maybe if we lived closer together we would see each other more often, talk more, be a part of each others’ daily lives, every single day. Share all of our books. You could watch my kids grow up, and they could know you, really, truly know who you are, and how wonderful you are. And we could be there for each other. Maybe the hurtful days wouldn’t hurt so much then, or if they did, we could help each other heal. And I would introduce you to scrapbooking (smirk) and maybe you would become obsessed with it too, or at minimum you could hang out with me into the wee hours after everyone else is in bed. We could talk, making big plans for our future - exciting places we are still going to see, tremendous things we are still going to do. Or even just look at our old photos. The ones that fill life with so much meaning. Photos like this one.
I miss these girls.I hope you give this challenge a try, and can't wait to see what you create!
