Creating something out of nothing—finding the beauty in junk journaling

Written by Diona Ballard

It’s Friday evening, and you just got a package in the mail. Inside the package, you find the items that you ordered, obviously, but if you look closer, you’ll find smaller items tucked inside: tags, a receipt, tissue paper—hey, maybe the barcode itself. The average person would likely throw these items away and never give it a second thought.

Wella Taylor sees something else.

For Wella, those bits or scraps are pieces of a larger story. A story she shares by gluing, layering, and cutting pages for her junk journal.

“I never did like organized scrapbooking,” she says. “I always liked throwing things together when I would art journal.”

Long before she had a name for it, Taylor was collecting the ephemera of her life and keeping them stored in decorated shoeboxes. Like Taylor, I was first introduced to the world of “junk journaling” through TikTok.

The creative practice, most notably compared to scrapbooking, is used by everyday items to create meaningful, personal pages placed in a journal. The appeal is that it’s less “perfect” than your traditional scrapbooking process. When searching the phrase on TikTok, you will find copious videos of young women sharing videos about their junk journaling process.

It’s a personal way to use everyday items like soda cans, concert stubs, and clothing tags and transform those items into a visual display that’s expressive to the person journaling. The popular hobby has given people a new way to express themselves and encouraged others to have less screen time.

However, the real beauty people are finding through this hobby is in the messiness of it all.

Wella’s Story

Wella Taylor first began journaling as a child, after the devastating loss of her brother. She was only eight, but already searching for ways to hold on to memories and the little pieces of her world that felt too important to let go.

“I felt if I threw away the journal, what if I lose all my things?” she says.

Fast forward to today, Taylor found herself inspired when she discovered the community of junk journaling. What started as a private form of emotional release became much more to her. It’s through journaling that Taylor has found immense healing and freedom.

“It’s something you can create with your hands. It’s all part of somatic learning,” Taylor explains. “With junk journaling, I can still feel that creative accomplishment while releasing, tearing up things, putting it down on paper, and moving on, all while having it in this tangible thing that I can release in. It's like containment.”

Encouraged by her therapist, Taylor eventually launched her own in-person journaling space: a community event called Scrap and Yap Club. Still, she admits that starting wasn’t easy and she questioned herself throughout the process, but persisted anyway.

“I was just so afraid of getting in my own way, you know?” she says. “The what-ifs get you nowhere—but failure? That [at least] gets you somewhere.”

She also vlogs her creative journey on TikTok, opening up about her life and process in the hopes of making space for others. She believes that through vulnerability, other people can find solace.

“Vulnerability is necessary because we can't keep thinking we can do all of this alone. If you don’t see representation of what you’re going through, you’re going to think you’re the only one going through it. When I was younger—and even now at 30, still a ‘baby’ according to my West Indian mother—I needed to see that other people were struggling too. Whether it was someone cleaning their house while battling depression, studying for finals, or grieving a miscarriage, I needed to see that. That’s how community works.” She continues, “So if I put it out there, it’s purposeful.”

Like Wella, many have turned to junk journaling as a way to process grief, express emotions, or simply unplug. But for some, the practice has grown beyond the page into community meetups and online spaces that turn quiet creativity into collective healing.

Nandi’s Story

“I think scrapbooking has a little more perfection to it, a little more uniform, but I think with junk journaling, you are allowed to make it whatever you want, and everyone does have their own style,” says Nandi, owner of Junk Journal Club LA.

Nandi’s journal club became the first official junk journaling club, and the community she built is still growing both IRL and online. For Nandi, community has always been at the heart of Junk Journal Club, even if she didn’t expect it at first.

“The first meetup I had 35 people show up,” she says.

Since then, it’s grown beyond her wildest expectations, with events selling out in seconds and a thriving online Discord server connecting people across cities and states.

“It's become so big that I'm now hosting multiple events a month.” She mentions jokingly that people refer to her as the “TicketMaster of junk journaling,” with her biggest record being 30 seconds for an event being sold out.

On the topic of using junk journal clubs as a way to build community, Nandi explains that in times of political uncertainty, community is the crux of what we need now more than ever.

“There’s so much turmoil in the world right now. Anything that gets us to stop refreshing the headlines and gives us a sense of belonging—that’s what people are craving.”

Nandi discovered junk journaling during a difficult summer in 2024. After breaking her right foot, she says she wasn’t able to do much of anything. She stumbled into junk journaling looking for a quiet, screen-free way to pass time and process.

“It was very much a therapeutic outlet during a time in which I was isolated,” she says. “I picked it up because it was something I could do alone, by hand, at home.”

To Nandi, junk journaling is more than just paper and glue, it’s memory preservation. “I always joke that it’s scrapbooking for Gen Z,” she says. “It’s less polished than traditional scrapbooking. There’s no right or wrong. You don’t need to know how to draw or paint. You just cut things up, glue them down, and create from that. Imperfection is embraced.”

One of the community’s most cherished practices is the city-to-city junk swap, where journalers mail each other collected items like menus, coffee shop receipts, and matchbooks from their hometowns.

“I did one with someone in Miami,” she says. “They sent me a bunch of restaurant junk from there, and I sent them a little slice of LA. It’s wholesome.”

Nandi sees herself as a facilitator of care beyond the art itself. “I try to look around at every event and notice the wallflowers,” she says. “Who looks like they need someone to talk to? Who may need a gentle push? I was that kid in kindergarten—the one who didn’t talk much. I would’ve appreciated someone looking out for me.”

Whether she’s hosting a “journal and cry” Zoom call the day after an election, encouraging vulnerability on Discord, or simply helping someone find a glue stick and scissors, Nandi leads her club with empathy and purpose.

“Junk journaling is memory preservation,” she says. “It’s also a way for people who don’t think they’re ‘artistic’ to be part of something creative. Before this, I couldn’t paint, sew, or draw. But I can cut and glue. I always wanted to be part of the crafty girl community, and junk journaling made that possible.”

Kelly’s Story

For Kelly, junk journaling is a deeply personal ritual, one she’s kept up for over a decade. She first stumbled upon it in 2013, thanks to a random YouTube recommendation. At the time, she already loved journaling in the traditional sense, but this new method felt like unlocking a new language.

“I was hooked ever since,” she says.

To Kelly, junk journaling is more than a scrapbook. It’s an art form without rules, a visual storytelling medium that combines collage, memory-keeping, and emotional processing.

“It’s like a mix of collaging, art, and journaling,” she says. “You can create an entire page with no writing at all, and the junk tells a visual story.”

Her approach is mostly intuitive. While she occasionally builds pages around trips or events, more often, she lets her materials guide her.

“It’s a bit of trial and error, and that’s the beauty of junk journaling,” she says. “There are no rules to follow.”

Though she’s experimented with store-bought scrapbook materials, Kelly finds herself increasingly drawn to reusing everyday things. Receipts, love notes, newspaper clippings, a colorful magazine ad.

“If I can stick it in my journal, then I can work with it!”

For Kelly, the practice has become a tool for staying grounded and preserving memory.

“I have a horrible memory, and it saddens me when I realize the days just seem to pass by,” she says. “My life should be remembered with a fond smile. No one can archive my memories but me.”

What surprises Kelly the most is how much this seemingly simple hobby has taught her about herself.

“I’ve learned I’m more creative than I gave myself credit for, and that I can find beauty in the mundane,” she says. “I wish more people understood how meaningful it is to make something beautiful out of what the world considers junk.”

About Diona Ballard

Diona Ballard is a writing living in Memphis, Tennessee. She writes for Essence Magazine. You can find her on Instagram.