One of my favorite parts of writing journal style entries is that I don’t ever have to look back on previous entries before starting a new post. Where writing a novel is daunting in the amount of time spent detailing characters, locations, and plots, writing a journal entry is certainly not challenging in those ways at all. Contradicting entries from my past self is not a worry, it’s expected, change is a constant. No matter what it is I’ve written in the past, I know for certain that the entry came from me. I can’t remember the details of every journal entry, but I’m intimately familiar with the person who wrote them. Telling stories, whether journal or novel, is analogous to lying. A good liar, much like any decent novelist, has to remember what lies they have told before building out the next parts of their story or their audience will detect a deception. An honest journaler doesn’t have that issue, feeling two different ways on two different days is a part of the human condition.
Revisiting past creative projects, whether they be podcast, musical, or written, often leaves me feeling like a stranger in my own mind. Lacking the ability to remember the specifics behind what I’ve created makes these accomplishments feel alien. A strange thing happens when I read or listen to an art piece that I’ve created but don’t actually remember the details of, I begin to give its composer respect.