Anybody out there who has clear memories of themselves when they were ten or eleven years old?
I was ten when I began writing my journal. I started it on January 16, 1991, the day the Gulf War started. I had, at the time, become very fond of the Anne of Green Gables series. Now, it so happened that the last book in the series was the story of Anne's youngest daughter, who was fifteen at the time WWI started. Rilla had a diary and there was a war; I identified a lot with Rilla and there was a war; I must then start a diary.
The content of the diary is inane, mundane, poorly spelled. I kept up the diary for three days in a row after the war started; I took it up again maybe a week later to report the death of my favorite pet; a week after that I noted that I was in the finals for the geography bee.
By March, I'd read back to the beginning of the diary and been appalled at my own melodrama. The end of June saw me writing occasional long entries about various stuff happening; this would prove to be the model for most of my future journal writing.
I've got a very good picture of the inside of my mind from that time period thanks to all this writing. Not only do I reveal myself through the writing, the writing summons up the memories I've got of being that person...