Listography: how we forgot to keep a diary

I think it’s generally bad to point the finger. To single out an object, an individual or even a group and call them the unambiguous ‘problem’ tends lead us down a dark path. With this in mind, I have absolutely no problem with Lisa and Adam, the creators of Listography in all its forms. In fact, Lisa’s story on the founding of Listography is very heartfelt indeed. And it’s not the makers I’m interested in, anyway; I want to explore what the growth of Listography (and it has grown, exponentially) tells us about ourselves, our society, the way we behave, and more than anything, what we need.

It pays to explain what Listography is. Originally started in 2006 as a website for collating personal lists, it has since expanded to include a multitude of books and even a board game. The nature of Listography is as simple as its portmanteau: using lists to explain something about yourself. Lisa says she would include a daily to-do list, a list of countries to visit, and a list of the best things about her grandmother all under the header of Listography: even to-do lists are, in one way or another, autobiographical.

Goodness knows how many daily users there are on Listography.com nowadays; recent posts are mostly conjecture and K-pop. Meanwhile, the series of Listography books – where readers are given direct prompts and write their own responses – has sold over a million copies.

To me, Listography has a lot in common with the “adult colouring books” that were intensely popular a few years back. They both take something that would otherwise prove more complicated, but also more personal, and simplify it. Diary writing in the former, and sketching in the latter. The individual is offered a hint, a kick up the rear to do something, rather than coming up with it on their own. This would appear to be Lisa’s motivation behind the expansion of Listography; to inspire as many people as possible to keep their own lists and become more autobiographical as a result. But as I’ve already shown, this autobiography is not created alone, it is a consequence of the book.

I would bet a large sum of money (or one pint of lager) that, in both the case of adult colouring and list-creating, most of the people buying these books feel that they are busy, or that their time is restricted in such a way that they are eager to pass recreation onto these books. They hand it over on a silver platter, after all. This is the problem at the root of Listography books, in my opinion: that they take what should be an organic, considered, personal process, one rooted in self-reflection, and convert it into something that is designed to be done when the brain is switched off – precisely because busy people lack the time and energy for the consideration required by the more organic version of mandated Listography - which is diary writing.

For that matter, when Lisa began her endeavour with her own Listographies, she was just keeping her own kind of diary. She was never told what to keep lists about. Of course, I’m sure she would argue that the books are just a guiding line; they are designed to supplement organic self-reflection, rather than replace it entirely. But the intent of these books is entirely separate from both the motives of their publishers and the motives of their consumers.

The publisher likely thinks the books will sell well because they appeal to the self-reflection of diary-writing while offering people an easy way out to achieve it; why buy an empty journal when you can pay a few bob more for one that motivates you automatically?

The consumer might be provoked by a sense of sentimentality, thinking they would like to have a record of their life and ambitions. They do not purchase a Listography because they wanted to start a diary when they walked into the shop. They purchase it because it reminds them of the unique opportunities a diary offers while making it easier for them – and therefore a more tempting purchase. The same is true of colouring books; someone who desires a creative outlet but lacks ambition to pursue art more freely will buy them when they provoke the imagery associated with true artistry.

What I’m interested in is the ways our society has changed, making adult colouring books all the rage and Listographies best sellers. When did we stop having the time to step back and pursue more freely the hobbies imitated by these books? When did we stop being diarists? When did we stop self-reflecting? The mindfulness craze is fuelled by the same problem. The speed at which life passes nowadays had caused us to delegate our own spirituality; not just making it impersonal but filtering it through the veil of consumerism.

We buy these books because we feel they can offer us a deeper understanding of ourselves, as if we don’t have enough time to do that on a regular basis. This is a horrifying fallacy. I hope it’s now clear I never intended to pin the blame on Lisa; her interests in creating Listography were entirely good-natured. In fact, Lisa is a prime example of the right way of doing things; she made time for her lists - her own unique self-reflection - in the midst of tending an online community and creating a range of bestsellers. She found the time. So why can’t you?