Last time I moved, I decided to move away from my journal-collecting habit and start actually scanning and typing up my rough drafts, then getting rid of the journals. I haven’t parted with all my journals – the nicer ones are still in the closet. I’ve made a conscious effort to choose notebooks that I won’t mind shredding when the time comes, though.
Today I finished the first one since my move, and so I’m spending my lunch hour pulling out the relevant bits, scanning if they haven’t already been typed up, and filing into Google Docs. It’s not a perfect system by any means, but it’s definitely a lot better in the long run – one less thing in my apartment, one less place I have to hunt for a scene if I’m looking for it.
And of course, my notebooks are full of random things that never went anywhere. Case in point, these two lines, which appeared by themselves, in between a to-do list and the rough draft of a poem:
“I am filled with ennui. Also jerky.”
“Maybe we should get separate hotel rooms tonight.”