The artistic possibilities of the journal have not been fully explored. Most published anthologies of journal or diary writing have attempted to offer a glimpse of an era or cultural milieu, or approached the journal as a vehicle for personal awareness and growth, or delved into the “intimate” lives of the famous. To these three ways of seeing private writing – historical, therapeutic, and voyeuristic – we would like to add a fourth: aesthetic.

This collection of journal writing is based on the premise that the journal can be art. It began as an idea for a literary magazine. We thought, initially, that a magazine’s on-going nature would be the most effective way to promote this kind of writing as a genre. But since our idea was relatively untried, and considering a magazine’s production costs and inherent impermanence compared to a book, we decided instead to advertise for submissions for an anthology.

At first we asked: How do we find these journal writers? Where are they hiding out? If the journal isn’t yet valued as art, would anyone devoted to this form of writing look for or see such an ad? Ideally, we hoped to find those who valued journals as their life's work, as we do; realistically, we wanted to discover those who at least place independent worth on the journal, though it may not be their main work.

For lack of a more appropriate place to seek submissions, most of our ads were placed in national and local publications for writers. We suspected the drawback: writers would stumble across our ad as they searched for those requesting short stories, poems, etc.; we feared their journals would be sidelines to “serious” works, not respected as works in themselves.

Yes, we did get submissions like this. We also received conventional poetry and short stories that were only loosely tied to the idea of keeping a journal, as well as strictly autobiographical writing that did not contain the feeling of the journal’s essence of immediacy and on-goingness. But we also found what we were looking for.

What were we looking for? Our guidelines read, “We are interested in literary, poetic, philosophical, and/or psychological writing which reflects a commitment to the journal (diary, notebook, etc.) as a distinct art form...writing which dispels the notion that journals are incidental to true artistic creation (i.e. short stories, poetry, novels), or merely a mundane, daily account. The journal writing which will be considered should also be much more than a tool for personal enrichment or self-help. We seek contributors whose inner life is already so rich that it spills out into their journals from a sense of urgency, not as a project or duty. Writings which are intense, probing, revealing, and insightfully critical of self and the world are encouraged....”

We were looking for journal writers who were unafraid of self-revelation, who told a convincing truth and told it well, who did not think conventionally, did not obviously borrow from the popular views of the day. We wanted to discover those who felt at home with the journal – those who were true journal writers, not just writers who dabbled in journals. We were looking for honesty, and (as one contributor put it) “the intimate feel of a sensibility that is hedging as little as possible.”

We received more than 100 submissions – from 29 states, and two from outside this country (Spain and Saudi Arabia). The submissions from women outnumbered those from men, 3 to 1. Also, not many older adults – or very young adults – sent submissions, although the total range of ages was wide: 21-80. Most of the submissions came from the East and West Coasts; however, there was a curiously large number of exceptional manuscripts from the Puget Sound area, where we are based. Though it was not our intention to focus on this region, half of the accepted manuscripts were from this area, a phenomenon yet to be fully explained. The coincidence has inspired us to get to know some of these journal writers through long letters and also in person, which has heightened the experience of working on the anthology. A book of these letters would have been an interesting accompaniment to this anthology, especially since letters themselves are another neglected art form.

Ironically, a few writers expressed a prejudice against even their own journal writing in spite of its worth. For example, one contributor stated that she didn’t feel the journal is a true art form, not as “true” as her stories, yet her journal reads like an engaging story itself, succeeding in the same way that a story does. These doubts are often a reflection of the prevailing view that denigrates journal writing as a literary art form, resulting in a lack of a forum or market.

As the submissions began to arrive, a variety of questions arose. We asked ourselves: What is a journal? At what point does it slip into a short story, memoir, or an essay? A few quality submissions were rejected because they did not quite “read” like selections from a journal. Some people, for example, sent us novel fragments or short stories which seemed to be composed with the intent of creating a self-contained piece, rather than being an on-going work that flowed out of the lived life. Even if the novel or short story idea originated in the journal, if the journal’s essence was not retained in some authentic way, we felt it did not qualify for our anthology. Also, we did not accept fictional journals – fiction using the journal form as a device.

The majority of the submissions received, however, were authentic journal excerpts. Although many people keep journals, few succeed in maintaining the literary quality that we were looking for. We did not flatly reject writing that reflected the traditional and contemporary styles and attitudes towards journal writing (e.g., day-to-day and self-help writing), as long as something more was there, even if the writer seemed unaware of it. What made us interested enough in a submission to seriously consider it was both the care and urgency of the writing – voice, language, and the themes that evolved out of the writer’s need to explore life on personal terms. Ultimately, we sought private writing which contained elements similar to what one looks for in fine literature, writing which is challenging and does not offer easy answers.

Though we wanted to present, in style and content, a range of journal writing, we leaned toward accepting serious, introspective writing. There are many sub-genres of journal writing we didn’t include, such as strictly nature and travel journals, because their inclusion in the book would have forced us to expand beyond our specific focus. Instead of putting together yet another anthology consisting of a sampling of short pieces by many journal writers, we preferred to concentrate on a few selections, giving them enough space to have their effect. This accounts for some rather long pieces, and for a total of only 14 journal selections.

Many different types of journals exist because a journal can be anything the writer wants it to be. What is most unique about the journal form is its openness to the particular needs of the writer and the moment. Because there are no definitive rules, anything can be said, in any way the writer wants to say it. Journal writing can inspire one to take a leap in thinking and expressing, losing what is familiar and safe – even if just for an instant. The journal is at home in the darkness, the shadows, allowing its subjects and selves to be probed without the usual inhibitions.

We were looking for private writing which wasn’t severely censored. Too many writers automatically censor their material, unaccustomed to the idea that the journal’s value might very well be its function as a refuge for unordinary (and even taboo) thinking. Much of what we were sent seemed too timid. Even dedicated journal writers too easily abuse their consciences here, where the need is less than anywhere else. As a few of the selections in this anthology illustrate, the urge to censor the self seems to be battling with the urge not to. Somehow, we hope the publication of this anthology may give courage to those looking for the form to express publicly what can be so intensely private but no less the source of a great creative impulse.

There are those who dismiss the journal in general, because of the obsessive “I”, not valuing the fact that everything that is written, not just journals, is an interpretation which comes through the self. The self is the primal filter; everything passes through it. We’ve been taught to distrust introspection and personalness. Commonly, we hear that journal writers are self-indulgent, self-pitying, “losers”, loners, rather than persons who are a valuable source of knowledge and insight. (For a more rigorous discussion of this involved subject see the essays following the journal selections.)

What makes a journal art? – more than an historical record of the details of a life, more than a workbook for further writing projects or some other artistic endeavor, more than a place to keep secrets, confessions and problems in need of a solution, more than an excerpt from a “journaling” workshop, or a personal pep talk? These are important questions, especially for a cause such as ours, which is to encourage not so much the art of journal writing as the artistic journal. We answer the questions in two ways: by showing the journal in the act of being art (through the journal selections), and by arguing the case in the essays.

The 14 journal selections in this book are arranged subjectively so they will play off each other, darkness and light contrasting, and so the book will work itself into a whole. Perhaps the most dramatic instance of this is the placing of Ms. Gale’s piece. Its surface lightness was varyingly interpreted by the editors as either deceptive, a parody of what we wished to avoid, the work of a rare comic spirit, or, alternatively, as the literal image of an almost mythical way of life. Whether it is anything but what it appears to be we leave for the reader to decide, but its placement before the unsettling vision of Mr. Luno was premeditated.

Both traditional and unconventional journal shapes are represented in this collection. As noted before, the lengths vary, often having more to do with how much was submitted than any desire on our part to cut an individual piece short. One selection reads like a story, which takes it a little outside the typical journal, but it is not a typical story since it is a journal entry (a story-of-the-day consisting mostly of dialogue); other selections are more fragmented and abstract. Some read like brief notes to the self, while others have much longer, detailed, descriptive entries. Specific dates are sometimes important for our writers, sometimes not: fragmentation alone is often the only connection with time. For some, their journals are their main work; others use them as a tool for something else, but still succeed in creating a piece of writing that has an aesthetic value of its own.

A span of subjects and moods can be found in our selections, reaching from poetic descriptions of nature to conversations overheard on buses, an exploration of a religious issue to a comic portrait of a contemporary life, aphoristic writing to the difficult details of a relationship falling apart, ironic philosophical writings to minute perceptions of the moment, literary essay fragments to an account of an afternoon spent in a graveyard with a child.

We began by asking how we could reach the keepers of fine private writing. Our goals have been to point out what the journal can be and to provide an outlet for serious journal writers where there hasn’t been one before. In addition, this anthology’s purpose is to put writers, in general, on notice that a place exists for the artistic journal. We would like to present even more daring writing in the future, and we are hopeful this book will help us find it.