I was gifted a little black notebook and pen, both embossed with my initials, for Christmas by my two best friends. As much as I appreciated the gesture, I didn’t know what to do with another notebook and pen. I already had a few pens and notebooks—the pens unused, their ink drying (or dried) and the notebooks mostly (or totally) empty. It sat on my desk for a day or so after unboxing it when I had the urge to write something down. That something was a thought that had been swirling inside my head for some time when I opened up the book, wrote down the date, and quickly scrawled it out. The thought was so small it only took two sentences, yet I felt better getting that thought out onto paper.

Then, the next day, I wanted to write down a thought again. So I opened up that little black book, skipped a line, wrote down the date, then continued writing. It reminded me of the journal that Eustace Scrubb kept in Voyage of the Dawn Treader. The format was easy and uncomplicated. Plus it was so easy to just put stuff down. No need for bullet points or thinking too much about how I was going to fill the page like other structured journals were. It was blessedly simple; exactly what I needed to get over my mental block about filling out a journal “the right way.” Now I date and write. Nothing more.

I have already filled pages of thoughts. It’s been incredibly cathartic. Not having my thoughts bounce around my skull, threatening to jump out of my mouth for the umpteenth time has been nice. I know I can get hung up on (read: obsessive about) ideas and thought patterns, but this ability to dump onto the page keeps me saner.

So thank you C.S. Lewis for reminding me how to keep a journal.