The Journal Entry I Always Return To
By Hanif Abdurraqib
I AM SOMETIMES precious about the private journals of writers or artists being made available to the public, yet I am enthralled by the journals of Octavia Butler for their aesthetic qualities, how they are often written with what seems to be haphazard exuberance, all caps, a flurry of underlines and exclamation points, different colors of ink, edits and redirections. Removed from the cleanliness that a finished draft can demand, there’s a thrilling freedom that echoes off the page, particularly in the pages where Butler is manifesting a future for herself or laying out her desires. This tone has, in part, granted these journals a new life on the internet in recent years. Portions of them are posted on social media as motivation or simply as a way to be in awe of Butler’s dreaming come to life. I often return to this one, dated 1975. After running down a number of best-seller lists that her books will be on, the note ends with financial goals:
For my own and mama’s excellent health care. For my own free and clear personal fortune of $10 million. For my own $20 million scholarship fund for striving Black People.
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