Between about fourteen and twenty-two, people ask us questions constantly: what we want to be, where we're applying, what the plan is after that. Teachers ask, relatives ask, strangers at parties ask.

Then it stops. The questions that replace them are logistical, which is why so many of us can describe our schedule in detail and go blank on anything else that’s asked of us.

This is why journals exist – to answer the questions that can leave us sitting wide awake at 3am. But we also know that filling a blank page can feel daunting, especially if you aren’t a seasoned journaler.  Here are five questions to get you started, and what to do with each one.

What do you want?

We can all describe what we're doing in enormous detail. What we want is a different question, and it tends to go unanswered or pushed aside, because saying what you want and taking up that space can feel risky, even when nobody else is listening.

This question is meant to have you write the version we wouldn't say out loud (yet), so be sure to include the embarrassing specifics. The city, the amount of money, the person, the thing we'd quit. If it isn't slightly uncomfortable to see on the page, go again with more detail. 

How have you been, really?

We've said "good, busy" so many times that we sometimes lose sight of the real answer to that question. There's usually something that's been sitting with us for months, that we haven’t even taken time to process or reflect on.

So this is your chance to write the honest answer, then keep going until a “because” response turns up.

Most people start with "I've been tired and a bit flat" and that’s where the entry stops. Set a timer, and keep writing until the timer goes off. And try not to think about writing. The entry will then likely turn into something like, "I've been tired and a bit flat, and I think it's because I haven't had a weekend to myself since April."

This practice helps to identify the root situation, and bring it to light. 

Who are you close to now?

As it happens in adult life, friendships drift on nobody's schedule. 

One friendship that’s gone quiet for a month takes a single message to fix, and one that's gone quiet for two years takes considerably more than that.

Write two lists. Who we'd name if somebody asked who we're close to, and who we've spoken to in the last month. 

The gap between those lists is the entry. It's usually shorter than expected, and the names in it are rarely the ones we'd thought.

What's different from last year?

Write this one for the woman who reads it in five years. She won't remember what this year was like and she’ll be looking for specifics.

Make sure you list the changes plainly. Include outlining the apartment, the job, the body, the friends, the opinions we've dropped, the ones we’ve gained, and the things that used to be a big deal and have also stopped being one. 

Being based in concrete works better than reflective for this prompt, and the detail that seems too small to record is usually the one that brings the whole year back. 

What have you filed under "later"?

We all keep a mental list of things we'll get to eventually. 

Move to the coast, switch careers, learn to drive, call her back properly, ask someone about that thing that's been going on.

We rarely write that list down, so it's easy to miss that the items on it don't behave the same way. Some of them will wait forever, and we can pick them up at 40 with nothing lost. 

Others get harder the longer they sit, like a friendship that's been silent for five years, or a health question we've been not-asking since university.

This is your time to write the list out, then mark which is which.

These five questions aren’t meant to be asked daily. None of them need a nice pen, or even a good mood. So give them some proper time a couple of times through our twenties, and again in our thirties and forties. Because the reality is that these are the types of questions that everything else gets built around, and sitting down with them on purpose is how we choose our big plans instead of drifting into them.