How to Journal (Like a Philosopher)
By Alvin
So, you want to start journaling. Great choice. And here’s the truth—it’s actually pretty simple.
There are really just three steps:
1. Get a journal. Find one that you like. Personally, I’ve been enjoying the softcover ones from Leuchtturm lately.
2. Get a pen you like writing with. I’m partial to fountain pens—something about them just feels good—but honestly, go with whatever feels right in your hand.
3. Start writing. Make a habit of it. Ideally, every day, but hey, even if that doesn’t happen, just write when you feel like it. That’s it. That’s the whole formula.
But—and this always happens—every time I talk about journaling, people ask me the same thing:
“What do you even write about?”
So, in this article, I want to answer that. I’ll walk you through how I approach journaling, especially on those days when the words aren’t flowing. We’ll also explore why journaling is tied so closely to self-improvement, and even dive into some philosophical ideas about it, because journaling is more than just a list of what you did that day. It’s a way to shape the story of your life.
A Simple, Reliable Structure
When I sit down to journal and nothing is coming to mind, I follow a basic structure that nearly always works. It helps me get at least a page of writing done—sometimes more if I’m really in the zone.
Here’s the format:
1. Start with a factual event.
I begin by writing a short paragraph about something that happened that day. Or, if I’m journaling in the morning, I’ll write about something from the day before. This part is purely factual. No deep reflection yet. Just the “what happened” version of events.
And I’m selective here. I’m not trying to log every single thing I did. Instead, I focus on one specific event—something that stood out or felt notable.
For example, a few days ago, I wrote about something that happened at work. The details aren’t that important for this article, but basically, I found myself stressed out over what turned out to be a misunderstanding. It got resolved eventually, but it was a tense moment until then. That kind of thing—real, personal, meaningful—is exactly what I journal about in this first section.
2. Then write about something that went well.
The next paragraph is about something I did right. Something I feel good about. It doesn’t have to be a huge achievement—just a moment of pride or a small win. It could be following through on a habit, handling a situation well, or even just managing your time effectively.
Sticking with the same work example, I was proud of how I handled that stressful situation. Even though it turned out to be a misunderstanding, I took the initiative to investigate. I didn’t shut down or avoid it—I broke the problem into smaller pieces and started working through them. That’s something I’ve been trying to get better at: solving problems without letting them paralyze me. So I made a note of it. That became my “win” for the day.
3. Then something that didn’t go well.
This is the uncomfortable one—but maybe the most important. This is where I write about what didn’t go right. A failure, a mistake, a moment I wasn’t proud of. And again, it doesn’t have to be some dramatic downfall. It could just be slipping into a bad habit, or a familiar struggle that showed up again.
I’m someone who tends to spiral into anxiety. When something unexpected happens, I don’t just worry—I overthink. I usually recover, sure. But there’s always that dip before I find my footing. In my journal, I try to pinpoint when and why this happens. What triggered it? Was I tired? Hungry? Did I make up stories in my head that weren’t true?
Writing it out helps me understand the pattern. And understanding the pattern helps me break it.
The Bigger Picture: Writing Your Story
After I’ve written about an event, a win, and a loss, I don’t just close the journal and move on. This is where things get interesting.
This last part is when I zoom out.
I ask myself:
What does this moment say about me?
How does it fit into the bigger narrative of my life?
Sometimes, this part is just a paragraph. But other times? Its pages. It’s where the real reflection happens. I’m trying to connect the dots—to find meaning or see a pattern. This is me making sense of who I am and where I’m going.
This isn’t just about memory or documentation. It’s about storytelling. About identity. And here’s where some philosophy comes in.
Philosophers Love a Good Journal
There’s this idea that a big part of what makes us human is our ability to tell stories about ourselves. Not just what happens to us, but how we interpret it. Philosophers like Charles Taylor, Alasdair MacIntyre, Galen Strawson, and Martin Heidegger have all touched on this in different ways. They suggest that what separates people from animals isn’t just logic or language—it’s our narrative capacity.
We’re storytelling beings. We make sense of life through stories. Even if you’re not keeping a formal diary or writing an autobiography, you’re still telling yourself a story—every single day. You remember certain things more vividly. You downplay others. You connect moments that seem meaningful. You assign roles: hero, victim, underdog, guide.
And whether you realize it or not, you’re always editing the script.
But here’s the thing: Most of us do this unconsciously. We don’t take an active role in shaping our story—we just react, respond, and survive. We go through the motions, and the story writes itself.
Journaling is my way of breaking that routine.
It’s how I slow down and take a more intentional role in constructing the story of my life.
If my life is a story, I want to be its author.
But I also want to be a good author.
And that takes practice.
Making Sense of Life as a Whole
There’s a philosopher I really admire—Julia Annas. She’s an ethicist and a scholar of ancient philosophy. In her book The Morality of Happiness, she talks about this idea of making sense of one’s life as a whole. Not just piece by piece. But as something unified, something that builds over time.
According to Annas and to ancient philosophers like Aristotle, the central question of ethics isn’t just “What should I do?”
It’s “Am I satisfied with how my life is unfolding?”
Am I happy? Am I flourishing? (What they called eudaimonia.)
And more importantly: Is this the kind of life I want to continue living?
That’s a powerful question. And the only way to answer it honestly is to reflect—not just occasionally, but regularly. Consistently. And deeply.
Journaling gives me that space. That opportunity. That mirror.
Your Journal Isn’t a Report Card
Here’s something important: Journaling isn’t about being perfect. It’s not a daily performance review. It’s not about impressing anyone—not even your future self. It’s about showing up with honesty.
Some days, your journal will be short and boring. Some days it’ll be raw and messy. Other days, you’ll surprise yourself with what you discover.
That’s the point. It’s not about the quality of your writing. It’s about the quality of your reflection.
It’s not about the number of pages. It’s about the honesty on the page.
Try This Format
If you’re still wondering where to start, try the structure I use:
Write about something that happened that day. Keep it factual.
Write about something you’re proud of. Celebrate the win, no matter how small.
Write about something that didn’t go well. Own it. Learn from it.
Zoom out and reflect. Connect it to the bigger picture of your life.
That’s it. That’s how I journal. Like a philosopher. Like a human. Like someone trying to be the author of their own life.
And honestly? I think that’s the kind of storytelling we all need more of.
🖋️ "The Page" I write not just to capture days, But trace the thread through winding ways. A moment’s spark, a thought laid bare— Each line a mirror, inked with care. Success and fault, both find their place, In silent truths I learn to face. And as I stitch the past with pen, I meet myself—again, again.