Join me for June Journals!

Taking up once more a challenge I set for myself in 2022: 15 minutes of daily writing, inspired by words I find odd, delicious, or downright ridiculous.

In summer 2022, I found myself with an incredible amount of time, mediocre internet connectivity (but plenty of paper), and the privilege of time moving slowly enough for me to take notice of small things (and sit in the noticing in the moment of noticing, as well as reflectively after the initial noticing occurred). The result was an excess of creative thoughts rumbling around inside me, desperate for an escape, ideally of the “productive outlet” variety.

Thanks to my husband—who provides the spiritual and emotional support needed for my creative journey in the form of encouraging “I love that”s and attentive “Hmm”s and gently corrective “Okay, but did you think about how that might sound to…?”s; as well as the very practical support needed as a mom in the form of chasing the (then only child) toddler around so she won’t consume rocks and simultaneously prepping supper and bathwater so that the evening routine moves along swimmingly—that June, I set out on a writerly quest. I dubbed the endeavor “June Journals,” because it was pleasingly alliterative and thematically apt.

The premise was simple: 30 words. 15 minutes each day. Write. Post.

More than anything, this was a challenge in creative discipline—and creative freedom. I wrote a short story or poem everyday, no matter how I “felt” (or how little I might’ve slept or how busy I seemed to be), a discipline that I repeatedly hear from “established” writers is essential to actually becoming a writer. It is a discipline because we don’t always feel like doing it but we must do it if we are to be writers, because putting the pen to the page (or the fingers to the keys or the spoken language to the diction software) is literally the only way the writing happens.

The limitations—existing here in the form of single-word prompts and a time limit—constrained my imagination in a lovely way. They focused the attention of my mind, which has a tendency to be overwhelmed by the incalculable possibilities a blank page presents, and quieted my inner editor, who loves to jump into overdrive as soon as the first keystroke’s clack christens the air. “Your word is zephyr. You have fifteen minutes. Go.” and then “Your fifteen minutes is up. Click Post. See you tomorrow.”

There were, of course, some days where I allowed myself more time and space to coax the story into fullness. But I never sat with one idea or story or poem for too long because I didn’t want to give sway to that nagging voice in my head calling daily for perfection and completion. June Journals are snippets. Explorations. Vignettes. Pauses at the window to marvel at a shape in the clouds—and then the cloud morphs into something else or passes out of the frame, and I continue down the hall to the bedroom where three baskets of unfolded laundry await or back to my desk to finish up the day’s work.

It’s been two years since my last (and first) June Journals series. I figured it was time to give it another go. Below you’ll find my list of word prompts for June Journals 2024 (if you follow

Grant Snider

, you’ll probably recognize a few… thanks for the steady flow of wonderful words!). I encourage you to join me, whether for one day or thirty. Take inspiration from the word—its definition, the way it sounds, its appearance, the way it makes you feel—and write something. Anything. Flash fiction. Poetry. A list. Memoir. Questions. Parody. Whether silly story or profound philosophizing, allow it to happen.

And remember, you’ve got thirty days. That’s plenty of space for a lot of okay writing, half-baked thoughts, unfinished rants, and the occasional gold nugget to emerge. Just give it a go—and have fun with it!

We kick off June 1st. See you at the writing desk (or in your favorite tree, on a towel at the beach, in the Notes app on your phone, hiding in the closet from your toddlers so you can have a few minutes’ peace, or wherever you manage to crack open your tattered notebook of choice)!

— khm —