Steampunk Journaling: Diary Writing in the Digital Age
November 4, 2016
“As we try to understand the past, we try to understand ourselves in relation to the past.”
~Steven Marcus, The Other Victorians (quoted in Steffen Hantke’s “Difference Engines and Other Infernal Devices: History According to Steampunk.”)
Steampunk is not usually associated with journaling. It’s a sub-genre of “punk” sci-fi/fantasy fiction characterized by futuristic nostalgia. The reader isn’t quite sure if the atmospheric sentiment is for days-gone-by or “technologies that never were” as phrased by Kelly Link and Gavin J. Grant in their introduction to Steampunk! An Anthology. Steampunk has never left the Victorian era; the machines are steam powered and the ambiance gas-lit, and yet the genre is propelled by inventions and technologies and science we’ve never encountered as such. If leeches are required for medicinal purposes, they may be of the robotic variety as in Cassandra Clare’s short story “Some Fortunate Future Day” (if you read it we can discuss whether or not she gets there). Carriages may be the most popular mode of transportation; however, horses might be mechanized automatons. “So, does your yarn have an alternative power source?” asks Martine Lillycrop in her essay, 5 Elements of Steampunk. Felix Gilman’s novel The Revolutions travels from an epic storm sweeping London’s streets through astral travel and extraterrestrials.
A few years ago, I developed a journaling system that I think demonstrate a few steampunk characteristics.
When I refer to “Steampunk journaling,” I’m not saying I structure journal writing as I would if I were to write Steampunk fiction. I started reading Steampunk stories after and somewhat simultaneous to a period of re-reading old journals (the diary variety) I’ve written. I was wary of the stagnant elaborations of previous years entrapped in inked pages–just sitting there stuck in their unprocessed emotional states–and my impulse was to do something with them because things had changed since I wrote them. Burning and shredding are always options with these matters, but that didn’t seem like the solution that would provide the closure I was seeking. I needed, I realized, to digitalize these notebooks so I could reevaluate and continue working with them. I had partially transferred my journaling practice to my computer by this time, in an effort to conserve physical storage room, and I liked how I could add additional comments and rephrase or delete previously composed thoughts with ease.
I began typing from the handwritten pages. I’ve been re-visioning and rephrasing previous journal writing for several years. This process has developed into sub-projects. Much of my current writing is an extension of journaling. In some respects I’m working with the past but from a new perspectives years later. Passages written in aggravation fueled from an estranged relationship can be continued from my current mentally distanced thoughts and put in perspective by adding a few lines about how I made my way elsewhere through other connections. In other ways, I’m overwriting the past. I may or may not have any lingering sense of connection to that estranged person who appears on the pages of my journal from 10 years ago, but something of what I wrote might ignite a recognition of a theme or a pattern that I continue to struggle with in relationships.
A psychiatrist might call this ‘displacement,’ and I will acknowledge that a sense of caution is not amiss with this sort of thinking–otherwise you might find you have a real leech and a robot leech, and even if you can tell them apart? Should they really be interchangeable?
Wait…why would I need any kind of a leech?
Think about this carefully before you accuse me of causing you more confusion than resolution. One of the observations I’m demonstrating is that Steampunk, much like the tensions that often appear on the pages of personal journals, portrays a mentality that gets too far ahead of itself before it has untangled from the past. The result is a murky blend of innovation, technology, and history that is struggling to offer “improvement” but does nothing to actually advance the culture or the individual. I define “Steampunk Journaling” as the interactions of writings present and past–co-mingling on mechanized pages. We haven’t figured out where we are going from our memories yet and memories are, after all, only fragments. They can act as an adhesive–or they can stir up more trouble than they are worth.
Initially, this approach had no system of organization whatsoever. I was recovering from an illness that impaired my concentration, and my mind resisted traditionally-taught organized writing. I didn’t have the patience to switch back and forth between documents, so I used a single document as a sort of catch-all for what I was transcribing along with my current thoughts. A system developed as I went along. I used dates and changes of font color to indicate the discrepancies of years. Entries look something like the following:
<<<<<<<<<<<Quote or passage from another author>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
I’m sure other journal writers have developed other equally weird or perhaps superior techniques, but this is how portions of my journal are structured. Weirder still, I began noticing that the patchwork of old and new writings, interwoven with other people’s writing, created an unexpected intertextuality that I had not intended.
In an article for The Guardian, “Going back to the future with steampunk,” David Barnett says, “common steampunk tropes include advanced technology within the parameters of what was reasonably do-able at the time.” The time–from our readership perspective–is going backward and forward. We’re kind of stuck and kind of trapped, and we’re trying to create and invent our way out of it. Are we going anywhere? It’s not without conflict.
My re-visioned journaling attempts to retell “stories” and reinterpret facts that I recorded in old journals in order to produce a different effect of an experience. Even if I can’t really change the experience–something of the take-away might be able to transform itself over time.
…it might be getting worse.
No, wait. I was able to do something cool after that.
There. Is it better now? Actually, it might be.
Opps. That didn’t work out either. Maybe not. Better continue working on that.
Closure. Now I can move on to the here and now.
Ultimately, we don’t want to think that we are not capable of advancement or that our experiences have taken us nowhere, and we find ways to reinterpret what has happened to us and realize what we might not be done with and what does not get another chance. Steampunk is a manifestation of this perspective also, and part of the point is that this sort of journaling enables a form of time travel that is easier to do with a gadget than with pen and ink. It doesn’t solve the problem that I still often want to shove my computer aside and say, “Enough with the reinterpreting already, move on with your life.”
When these writings were on paper with ink I sometimes wanted to burn or shred pages from them, and I sometimes did and that was sometimes liberating. If I had done that with all of them, I wouldn’t now have this project of rephrasing and rethinking that I have created for myself. But I have developed a process that works for me. This method allows me to find connectors of past to present that seem somehow also less threatening to my (imagined) future self. It’s a way of re-visioning.
One of these connectors has turned me back to paper and ink. There’s a quality to writing by hand that typing on a machine does not replace. I may have abandoned pen for keyboard for a while, but something of the fluidity of handwriting is lacking, and there’s a stream of creativity and consciousness less prone to writer’s block that I’m often able to access when I shut off the computer. But this sort of anti-technology, though contradictory, is another component of Steampunk, especially as it is contrasted with its counterpart, Cyberpunk–also a relevant genre to this discussion of digitalizing information.
I’ve learned to separate my hand journaling from my mechanized journaling. I only record in ink what I’m confident I would not want to go back and re-write. I’ve also reduced current journaling, now that I see how much time and emotional investment can be sucked into combing through previous volumes. I don’t know if it’s always helpful or beneficial.
“Steampunk journaling” to me means that we can invent various methods of process, but we continue to be challenged with figuring out where we’ve come from, what we are doing here, where we’re going, and how to get to where we’d like to be. These issues are the stuff of Steampunk as it advances as a cultural genre–along with us as individuals.