On Journaling and classic style

This is my journal. You are reading it. I don’t know the full purpose of it right now, but I will figure it out while writing. I can achieve multiple things by keeping a journal, given that I write every day. One, I can hone my craft of writing in english language — english is not my native language, and getting into the flow of writing in foreign language is complicated. By writing every day in English, I will ensure that I’m in the flow, and that I don’t have to reinvent my style. Second, I want to learn the classic style of writing, and I can do that using my journal. Third, writing is the best way to clear my thinking, and understand where am I at the moment, what do I need to do—it’s a way to keep me on track of everyday business of life.

Writing a journal in classic style is not easy. Every sentence must be thought out. Every idea has to be clear and simple. When writing a journal, the natural tendency is to write whatever comes to mind, not caring about the quality of the writing itself. Writing in classical style I must pay more attention the quality and less to quantity.

My writing was interrupted by a phone call. Woman called and asked if the apartment that she rented for the workers a year ago is open for booking. I said that, no, the apartement is already booked, but the new apartement is now open. She was happy to hear that. For the next two weeks, starting from tomorrow, the men of her company will move in. A pleasant surprise, to say the least.

Now, back to the journaling. I’m planning to write an exerpt from a good example of classic style into this journal, copying the text word for word. Why? Because this practice helps me to imprint the style. I’m downloading Lulu in Hollywood epub book and will take a passage from it for my first imprinting session.

Lulu in Hollywood, Chapter TWO

Early in the autumn of 1925, when I was eighteen, two film companies, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer and Paramount, each offered me a five-year contract. Not knowing what to do about either contract, which would separate me from my dream of becoming a great dancer, I went to my best friend, Walter Wanger, for advice. How sweet he was then: a brilliant, laughing young man of the world whose heart remained very tender. He had taken me under his protection after meeting me while I was a specialty dancer in the Ziegfeld Follied and after discovering hat my blase insolence was a masquerade. It amused him to find that the decadent black-and-white Aubrey Beardsley makeup covered a sprinkling of Kansas freckles. It aroused his sympathy to learn that my bold decolletage of glitterng white sequins was actually and attempt to conceal my childish insecurity. If, at this crucial moment in my career, Wanger had given me some faith in my screen personality and my acting ability, he might have saced me from the predators who prowled Broadway and Hollywood. Instead, failing to understand that I put no value on my beauty and sexual attractiveness and could not use them as a means to success, he advised me as if my career depended on nothing else.

Lulu in Hollywood, Chapter three

Nobody can know for certain why anyone commits suicide, but it seems likely that being Marion Davies’ niece was one of the reasons for my friend Pepi Lederer’s killing herself in 1935. And Marion’s being the mistress of William Randolph Hearst was probably another.