It began unexpectedly in late October this year and evolved into a truths-that-can’t-be-unseen-mirror I had not anticipated. It’s intriguing and I don’t know where it’s going - but I’m digging it.
I started Lizzy Stewart’s ‘introduction to picture book making’ course on Substack this autumn (link below to Lizzy’s Substack)
The first homework task in the course was to keep a visual diary for a week (an exercise originating from Lynda Barry’s diary process). Who ever it first sprang from, the notion is that this simple discipline will create an abundant larder for writing and illustrating ideas.
I chose a skinny A6 sketchbook for my diary, I thought:the cheaper the paper, the lesser the pressure. The suggested process was to write down the things that you did, saw, overheard and to draw something seen each day. We were encouraged to be open to simpler slower ways of working and to give ourselves over to the process. Advice I really love and took to heart.
Just like a beginner forgetting to let themselves be a beginner, I was surprised (and quite self-judgey) about the inconsistency of my drawing skills on those early pages and how little I might recall of the day, on the same day. It alarmed me how hard I found it to draw things from memory and how much I wrote rather than drew.
Within a couple of days, the task made me more observant, moving around in the world now definitely on the look out for things to put into the diary. I went from counting the blank pages ahead, desperate for the task to finish to a sinking sensation when it felt like the task was over (because the book ran out).
Something not necessarily new but bewildering had become apparent: my guilty little secret (beyond my shocking difficulties drawing from memory) was the realisation that I feel weirdly unequipped to create full pages of drawings, rather than simple spot illustrations. This information was a rude, uninvited bit of accidental reflection. Huh. Thanks for nothing, little diary…
The end of my skinny, good-for-nothing diary coincided with a big dose of virus (maybe it was flu). You can see the last two little entries in the image above consisting of weepiness and pessimism as I train-travelled with an incredibly sore throat and general illness vibes. That moment coincided with it being the first month of the year I didn’t have a drawing task or challenge of some sort to respond to. I was laid up for about a week and so had pause to think about my uncomfortable little epiphanies.

First spread: Unable to stop thinking about visual diary making, I wondered: What if I worked on bigger paper?
I withdrew from Instagram. I had been restlessly checking in and not posting on there, which is never an easy time. On top of the flu and the diarist’s revelations, I had the * hungry-ghost-pickle, maladjusted spiritual gait a person gets to from blankly chewing the insta-cud.
*
Hungry-ghost-pickle: when your interaction with IG (or any socials platform) has you feeling yourself trapped in the left over vinegar and dill smelling pickle slosh in the big wide jar and everyone/everything else is outside the jar, living in glorious technicolour and you can’t get away from seeing it, because your house is entirely made from glass (and stink water).

The fifth spread, in which I got all bent outta shape because the layout and contrast went awry. Everyday’s a school day!
After a little bit of being off Instagram, my impulses felt more whole-grain and reliable. I couldn’t quite stop thinking about that pesky little diary. Seeing my shortcomings through that spontaneous little A6 book had set something ‘tinging’ repeatedly within and I wanted to throw myself at a fix.
I began to noodle around: what might it be like to do this on bigger paper? For longer - a whole year for example? The first and second spread were a kind of tiptoeing approach. The third spread is my favourite (the one right at the top of this page) I was in the groove suddenly.

Spread six: Enjoying the ‘thinking out loud’ unfolding on these pages. The fast pace allows no time to wallow in mistakes and always an opportunity to do better.
Here are all the other pages, up to date. This unexpected project is becoming part of my routine. Sometimes the drawings are awkward and unskilled, always quite unrefined and sometimes that works, sometimes it doesn’t. I’m really enjoying the unpredictability of it and the sense of an accumulation of something. It’s a great record of my petty emotional reactions and daily fears. I love the mundane on the same page as significant life moments - sometimes they are the same thing. Lots of the very vehement and intense emotional moments feel significant at the time of drawing and writing and neutralise quickly afterwards. I keep thinking about moving into a digital format but there is something about working on paper, I’m sticking with it for now.
As I said at the top of this page about the diary, it’s intriguing and I don’t know where it’s going - but I’m digging it. I hope you dig it too! Happy New Year.
Thanks for reading
Susannah x
These spreads are beautiful! A very inspiring post. Thanks!
So good to see your creativity and hear your thoughts about it🩵