our most honest work yet

Photo: My new blue journal, with the first poem inside on the first morning of the year.

The good news in my Portfolio Project game these last few days has been the opportunity to read some of my new work--in person--to some dear friends.  The bad news came this morning, when a little one beat me awake and unrolled my latest roll of film all over the floor.  Mourning all those shots I'll never get again.

Literary merit completely aside, I know I'm doing my soul work over here, and the writing I've done ever since I wrote all the way to the fence has been deeply satisfying.  I'm traveling around with the little journal I started on New Year's Day at Jen's house, and completed just last week.  I was laughing with friends yesterday about the truly deep things that will be found someday in its pages like, "I'm ready for some toast now, or maybe an omelette." (More on my journal-writing philosophy here.)  But it also feels sacred to me, and when I read to my dear ones it becomes my prayer book, and we stand witness together as the mysteries of human wounds and human healing break through the plain-jane words and touch us with unknowable fingers. 

This is my most honest work yet.

Maybe this is the next round of the Portfolio Project game--to relinquish concern and consideration for the perceived quality of our work and to dig deep until we excavate a truer version of ourselves than we've known until now.  To abandon ourselves to our most honest work yet, and to let our dear ones bear witness to our path. (Keep sending me your gems for the Midpoint Gallery Show--jen at jenlee dot net.)

Don't Hesitate. Order today.

Don't Write.

a reluctant journal

By Jen Lee
Design by Christina Macaluso Hammock, rsvp ink
5 1/2 x 8 1/2 in; 224 pp; black and white images, excerpts and quotes throughout to provoke and inspire
Paperback, perfect bound


Will ship late August 2008
Don't Write. here,you Don't Write.This limited-run, first edition is available now for pre-order.
Before writing, I could tell myself that dreams were a guilty pleasure, that hopes were fantasies. I could tell myself the world was getting along just fine without my voice. And I almost believed it.

--from the Author's Note