When to Stop, When to Keep Going
Okay. How are you doing this week, actually?
I ask every time because I mean it every time. Not the version you'd give at the grocery store when someone asks and you both keep walking.
We've spent a few lessons now on the rant, the complaint, the getting-it-out-of-your-skull kind of writing. I stand by all of it. But I've had a couple people in class ask me some version of "how do I know when I'm done venting and just... stewing instead?" And that's a fair question. Let's talk about it.
The short answer
You stop when the page stops helping and starts just repeating.
That's it. That's the whole rule, if you can call it a rule.
Here's what I mean. You sit down mad about something — your sister, your boss, whoever stiffed you at table twelve. You write it out. Somewhere in there, usually a paragraph or two in, something shifts. Your hand slows down a little. You notice you're not just mad anymore, you're figuring something out. Maybe you write a sentence you didn't expect, like "I think I'm actually mad about last month, not today." That's the page working.
But sometimes you keep going past that point. You're not figuring anything out anymore, you're just circling the same three sentences with different words. "She's so inconsiderate. She never thinks about anyone else. It's like she doesn't even consider other people." That's not clarity, that's a rut. And a rut on paper can dig itself into a rut in your head if you let it run too long.
How to actually tell, in the moment
I'd watch for a few things:
- You're repeating yourself almost word for word. Not "returning to the theme" — actually saying the same sentence three different ways. That's your cue.
- Your handwriting speeds up instead of slows down. For me, slower handwriting usually means I'm thinking. Faster, scratchier handwriting usually means I'm just pushing the same feeling around the page, not moving through it.
- You feel worse, not lighter, when you stop. A good rant, even an ugly one, usually leaves you a little looser by the end. If you finish and you're more wound up than when you started, that's a sign you went past the useful part a while back.
None of these are exact science. I don't know the brain chemistry of it and I'm not going to pretend I do. I just know what it feels like in my own hand, on my own page, after a lot of mornings doing this.
What to do instead of just stopping cold
Stopping doesn't mean slamming the notebook shut and pretending the feeling's gone. For me, what works is one more line after I notice I'm stuck — something like "okay, I think I've said this three times now, moving on" — and then I either switch to something totally different, or I just close it and go make coffee. You don't have to resolve it. You just have to stop repeating it.
Sometimes the better move is a total left turn. Write a list instead. Not a gratitude list, necessarily — just a plain list of something factual. What's in your fridge. What you need from Macey's. What's on your calendar tomorrow.
That sounds like a strange trick, but I mean it seriously. I found a grocery list once, tucked inside one of my mother's old letters. Bananas, thread, "call Ruth." Three words and a reminder to herself. I copied it straight into my own journal because it stopped me cold — that little list told me more about an ordinary Tuesday in her life than a lot of her actual letters did. A list is a kind of diary if you're paying attention. And it turns out a list is also a decent off-ramp when your brain's been circling the same complaint for two pages and needs somewhere else to go.
The opinion I'll stand on here
Complaining onto paper counts as real journaling. I've said that before and I'll keep saying it. But there's a difference between letting the bad thoughts out so you can drive to work, and using the page to feed the bad thoughts more fuel. The first one's a release. The second one's just rehearsal.
You'll get a feel for which one you're doing. It took me a while, and I still get it wrong sometimes — I'll notice halfway down page two that I've talked myself into being angrier than I was when I sat down. That happens. You just close the notebook, take a breath, and go be a person for a while.
Before next time
Next time you catch yourself venting on the page, see if you can notice the exact sentence where it turns from figuring-out into repeating. Don't judge it, just notice it. That's the whole assignment. 🌞