I just found a slightly older journal of mine, stuck, literally, to the bottom shelf of my nightstand here. It was leather — still is — just a bit scarred at the moment.
I seem to go through lots of journals; it’s not that I write fast, but more that I switch journal books mid-stream. I also write a lot on the laptop, currently in a program called VooDoo Pad. It looks like a simple text editor, but is actually a personal wiki, and can create a link to an astonishing number of things.
So, do I write so much because I have something to say, or because I like the feel of the words being created underneath my fingertips? I’m going to contemplate that one for the rest of the day.