Journaling has been a part of my life for as far back as I can remember. My grandmother kept a journal, using whatever notebook was handy. When she passed away, we found these notebooks in various different drawers and cupboards in her apartment. A real treasure – a glimpse into a life well lived.

My journals have been more than a solace to write down my feelings. These little treasures have helped me write about things in my past.

How does journaling fit in with personal essays? Well, for one thing, it’s a great record of past events in your life or whomever you’re writing about. A personal essay is a dissertation, so to speak, of something that happened in your life. It’s a short, autobiographical nonfiction piece that displays some intimacy and is usually written in a conversational manner. Hence, the word ‘personal’. Sometimes it’s called a personal statement.

Personal essays are also a type of creative nonfiction because it’s a defining story about you or some part of you or your life. There are no real parameters to limit what is classified as a personal essay. Most famous authors have written a personal essay: F. Scott Fitzgerald, Robert Louis Stevenson, and Mark Twain, to name but a few.

A defining forum of expression, personal essays can also heal. In 2011 (published in Valley Living for the Whole Family, Spring 2013 issue), I wrote a personal essay, “The Day My Mother Died”. It’s a story about grief. It began:

“The day my mother died, I didn’t cry. I couldn’t. When I received that early morning call from Dad, I knew before I picked up the phone. I felt the knife slowly twist in my gut as I listened to the pain in his voice. I wanted to cry. My mother had suffered so much: the cancer robbing her, not just her life, but also her dignity, her right to die with dignity. In the end, sadly, she was a vegetable. It all happened quickly, too soon. The day my mother died, my heart was breaking, but I didn’t cry. I couldn’t. The day my mother died, my son started his first round of chemo treatments. Cancer had a grip on my family and it would be a long journey before tears were allowed.”

The essay paid tribute to a time in my life when I was faced with many obstacles. It was a difficult time. We all have them; some more than others. By writing this 2,000-word personal essay, I was able to release my sorrow, and, finally, I was able to cry.

The purpose of writing a personal essay is, basically, personal. My purpose was to release my grief so I could move on, to share my story in the hopes of helping others suffering through their own personal grief. There are other reasons to write a personal essay. It is, after all, one of the most active types of writing assignments, be it for school or, not surprisingly, to impress a potential employer. Why? Well, put simply, being able to write something simple and coherent about yourself is an important skill. Among other things, it demonstrates your ability to set goals and follow them through. Here are some other things does a personal essay reveal:

- personal communication skills

- critical thinking skills

- imaginative skills

- maturity

- who you really are

- personal persona

- essay-writing skills

There are more, but perhaps the above summarizes the most significant revelations.

So, how does one begin the writing process of a personal essay? My advice? Start by writing from the heart, as if you’re writing in your journal. Allow the emotions and deep-rooted thoughts to flood the page in front of you. Just write. You can always fine-tune the end product; the important thing is to get all those personal ideas written down.

Are there markets for personal essays? Of course. Even local tabloids and small community publications are interested in the occasional personal essay. Of course, you don’t have to write a personal essay for publication. Sometimes it’s self-therapeutic to write about personal issues. And, it’s a great learning curve, both from a personal and from a writer’s perspective.

I had no intention of publishing my story, “The Day My Mother Died”, but once it was finished, I knew I had to share it.