On keeping a diary, comic or otherwise

Documenting your own life - narcissistic or necessary?

When I was around eight years old, my parents gave me a journal for Christmas. It had a grey hardbound cover, ribbon bookmark, and one of those handy pocket inserts in the back. All my favorite characters in books kept a diary, this special, private space to pen your thoughts and feelings, a place for you alone - it seemed a fascinating habit, and I decided immediately that this book would be my diary.

I maintained my first diary with religious consistency, attempting with all my limited literary capabilities at age eight to write down all the big feelings I was feeling. I still remember a few of my early entries, recording particularly devastating moments in my little life, not so much for the events themselves but for the sense of relief that flooded me after releasing my feelings onto paper.

Over the years, I’ve only had my belief in the merits of keeping a diary reinforced. Keeping a diary has always been as much a physical release for me as an emotional one. The act of putting pen to paper, my hand reflecting my mental space, sometimes scribbling and incoherent, other times sprawling and loopy. It’s the most consistent, albeit sometimes cringey, habit I’ve maintained, and it’s been a life-saving one. Flipping through old entries is like going back in time and reliving all the lives I’ve lived. And sometimes, it can be a treasure trove for new material.

There’s many an artist out there using their diaries in their creative work. David Sedaris (one of my favorite writers of all time) is an ardent diary-keeper and has never not succeeded in having me literally LOL while reading his work. (Listen to David talk about keeping a diary here! )

With all my fascination for diaries, combined with the fact that I’m an illustrator, it would seem obvious that somewhere along the way I began making diary comics. I’ve compulsively kept a diary since I learned how to write, I make comics about things I see and hear, combining the two would seem inevitable, no? But alas, clearly, it was not.

As much as I’ve been a long time admirer of diary comics and the incredible artists who make them, it felt impossible to make them myself. I struggled to stay loose, not overthink or overwork a page, to not think of it in terms of drawing, typography, layout, but to stay present in the act of record keeping. 

So finally I turned to Lynda Barry, living legend and master of the comic form. I’ve been reading and re-reading Making Comics for the last many months, firm in my belief if that Lynda couldn’t get me started making diary comics, then I was a lost cause. (Side note, if you’re even remotely interested in learning about/making comics regardless of your “artistic skill”, any and all of Lynda Barry’s books are an excellent place to start.)

I realized quickly that the only way I would ever really get started was if I eliminated as many “rules” for myself as possible. Trying to maintain a specific notebook/tool/time/format just ended up giving me more excuses to not actually make an entry, so I decided that the most important rule was to just do it, wherever or however that might be. And so that’s what I’ve been trying to do. Sometimes its in the back of an old sketchbook or on my iPad, some entries are loose and scratchy, and in others I feel like making a nice drawing. The goal at the moment is to just keep making, and I’ll admit it’s been more enjoyable the less pressure I put on myself. 

So in the spirit of sharing and trying to be less serious online, here are a few excerpts from my attempts at keeping a diary comic! My next goal is to maintain a more consistent practice, but in the meanwhile I’m allowing myself to feel good about getting started.