No formula, no guru voice, just what I’ve actually learned from journaling badly, secretly, and eventually well.
I can remember the first time I ever started journaling. I tore a book in half and just started writing my frustrations. As a teen, this felt so naughty. I realized I had room to use words I couldn’t use in real life, and space to express opinions I wouldn’t be able to say out loud. This little rendezvous came back to bite me, though, when I went back to boarding school and forgot my little book at home. I was devastated, because the very people I’d written about were exactly the ones likely to find it. So I did the most self-respecting thing I could think of: I got two steps ahead. I wrote an apology to the people concerned. 😅
Was that a wise move? For a teenager, not too bad, I’d say. But adult me, looking back, is cringing quite a bit. That’s especially true since the people concerned never even wrote back to acknowledge the letter or its contents. I probably should have just let the story find its own natural way. To this day, I have no idea where that book went, who found it, or whether they ever sat down to discuss those letters. Who knows. All this to say: I’ve had my fair share of journaling oopsies, especially coming from a culture where personal privacy isn’t exactly paramount.
My first real journal
Once I was an adult, I realized that once in a while, I’d just love to write. For me, it always started as either frustration or notes to self. Over time, I noticed my notes to self were genuinely good to read. That’s when I bought my very first real journal: a beige hardcover diary with beautiful embossed lettering, Paris-themed, all Eiffel Towers and French motifs. I loved it, especially the generous page size and the fact that it wasn’t too rigid. I could handwrite my own dates. It was more than sufficient. I loved that experience so much.
Still, I was never quite sure how deep I could go, just because of the risk of it falling into the wrong hands. Eventually, paranoia won, and I burned it. I just couldn’t take the risk.
These days, with digital tools available, and given how deep I genuinely want to go, it goes without saying I love a good journal I can just lock with my own pin. It’s somewhere I can truly explore everything without the paranoia. It’s taken a long journey to get to where I am now, where I’ve actually designed a whole app that’s built around journaling. Below is the brief, direct advice I’d give a total beginner.
1. Start with what you already have
The basic survival kit is a pen and paper. One step up from that: a pen and an actual notebook, any notebook. Once you’re in habit-building territory, investing in a proper journal is a great idea. And if you want to go all the way, you can get something custom-made to your liking: your favorite color, your own name, a security feature if you’re as paranoid as I am, or a dedicated private place to keep it.
2. Write what’s loudest in your mind
Assuming you’re ready, pen in hand, paper in front of you, naturally you want to explore this activity. Find out what the fuss is about. Is this even for me? Am I just mildly interested, or could I really see myself becoming an avid journaler? The rule of thumb: just write whatever is most pressing in your mind at the moment you pick up the pen. Start unstructured. Can you find anything to write about, and just write it, at all?
3. Notice how the writing makes you feel
This can happen during or after your entry. Is it stirring thoughts or ideas you can safely explore in a way that honors your own intentions? Is it revealing layers of yourself you’re genuinely happy to explore further? Or is it bringing up difficult memories that are hard to unpack without changing your whole demeanor or mental stability? That last one is usually a sign you need a better framework for unpacking things: anywhere from talking to loved ones, to seeking professional support.
4. Let it become a practice, not a chore
Assuming it’s all manageable, and your writing genuinely evokes curiosity about how you view and interpret your own life, you can start having fun with it. Journal whenever you feel like it, or at a set interval: weekly, monthly, every other day, whatever. The best rhythm is one that leaves room for self-exploration, without your brain filing it under “one more thing I have to do.” It should feel more like: I want to see where this goes, so maybe I’ll try it once a week, or once a month, or whatever frequency fits.
Some people start and it’s like opening the floodgates. Others start and the engine needs a few jump starts. The important thing is being honest about whether it’s actually working for you. Remember, journaling can be a hobby in its finest form just as easily as it can be a routine. See where you fall on that spectrum. For me, personally, if I turn it into a strict routine, I take the fun right out of it.
5. Find your own rhythm with it
Once you know what journaling actually does for you, you can start deciding where it fits in your life, servant or master, so to speak. What do you get from it? What’s your level? This is also where it’s worth exploring the different forms journaling can take. More on that below.
All of this is not an exact science, by the way. It may well be that some people want to start at step five, explore every form, and settle on one. My way is different. I like to establish my own natural baseline first, and then see what other approaches exist to get to the same place.
A quick field guide to journal types
I’ve dabbled in a few of these myself, so here’s a brief, honest rundown:
Bullet journaling: effective when I don’t have time to fully process the whole emotional story and just need to dump the main points. Keeps me from ruminating too much.
Flip journaling: this is the one built into my own app. I take a question, issue, or scenario that won’t stop circling and answer it from a different perspective. It’s helped me master looking at problems from more than one angle, toward some kind of resolution.
Junk journaling: I’ve found this least helpful, personally. It’s just dumping random, unstructured thoughts to clear your mind, and my mind, sadly, loves working toward meaningful organization. But it has its place for some people.
Structured or topical journaling: as I move toward emotional mastery, I find myself enjoying this more. It’s intentional: you journal on a specific topic, within whatever season you’re in, with a clear objective in mind. It’s a deepening of the practice, not a beginner move.
Audio journaling: I do this randomly, once in a blue moon, and hadn’t even mentioned it until now. If you’d rather talk than write, a good voice recording of yourself can offer the exact same benefits.
The one rule I’d actually stand by
I think the most crucial thing I’d say about journaling is that it’s a genuinely fun way to notice how you think, how you process the events of your life, and therefore how you’re actually living. It can be powerful for self-development: for finding your voice, your passions, your purpose. It’s truly an examination of life through your own unique lens. Your way is the authority here.
If the blank page still feels too intimidating, no amount of preparation will feel like enough. That’s a real, common blocker. That’s part of why I built a simpler, guided entry point into my own app: you start by naming the emotion, and a short guided question helps you begin unpacking it from there, no blank page required. Once that feels natural, there are more advanced layers you can add on top, like reframing or pattern tracking, but you don’t need any of that to begin.
So if you’ve been wondering how to start, I hope this big-sister guide has helped clarify a few things. Hopefully it’s also inspired you to take that first bold, imperfect step. Happy journaling.
FAQ
What’s the best journal for a beginner? Honestly, whatever removes the most friction for you: a plain notebook if structure feels limiting, a guided journal or app if a blank page feels intimidating. The “best” journal is the one you’ll actually open again.
If this resonated, Renew90 Journal is available on iOS and Android.