When I was growing up, I kept a diary all the time. It held all of my dreams, wishes, fondest hopes. If I had a great idea, I recorded it faithfully. When I 
met (met again, actually) the younger version of the man I married, I let Dear Diary know first. It was really a great thing to do.
So why have I been so stupid as not to keep up the habit??? As I said, when I was growing up I kept a diary. Once I grew up I forgot how intelligent a girl I’d been. I’ve tried now and then to keep story ideas in a notebook or even jot a reminder of some great dialogue or character traits, but the good intention lasts less time than my diet plans after New 
Years. Like writing every day, I need to develop the habit of keeping a journal (“journal” sounds so much more mature than “diary”). Where is that Kick-Me-in-the-Butt machine I need to remind me of good habits to form?
Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.
Dee
Naval Maneuvers When a woman requires an earth-shattering crush of pleasure to carry her away, she can’t do better than to call on the US Navy. Sorry, Marines!
I never understood the allure of keeping either a diary or journal. Now, a lot of people use blogs, Facebook, and other platforms to do much the same thing but without the expectation of privacy.
I think as a child it was the idea of having something private (my mother swears she never read my diaries). Now it’s strictly a memory thing–if I don’t write it down, it’s lost forever. 😉