There's something quietly special about a journal you made two years ago that still holds up — not just structurally, but emotionally. This is a flip-through of one of my early wraparound junk journals, a small hand-stitched piece with a soft leather cover, five sewn signatures, and a pocket full of little things to discover: vintage postage stamps, a dragonfly tag, baking paper pages, a hand-painted bookmark. If you love the idea of a journal that someone can pick up and explore, this is worth a look.
What we cover
A close flip-through of a finished wraparound mini junk journal — the cover, the signatures, the pocket contents, and the wraparound closure — along with honest reflection on what I'd do differently now, including how I handle flimsy leather, how many signatures to include, and why I've shifted to making journals in batches.
What you'll learn
How to stiffen flimsy leather or leather-like fabric for a journal cover — the inside of this cover is coated with a diluted PVA and water mixture, which brings enough body to a thin, floppy material that it holds its shape without going rigid. It's a simple fix that makes a real difference.
Why signature count affects how a journal lies — this journal has five signatures, and looking back, I'd add more. More signatures means more bulk at the spine, which helps the book lie flat when open rather than curving or springing back.
How to plan pages for the person who'll use the journal, including:
- Leaving some plain writing paper in among the decorative pages — journaling space matters, and it's easy to fill every page with pattern and forget that someone wants somewhere to write
- Including journaling spots (small framed or defined areas) that invite writing without overwhelming the decorative feel
- Leaving room for the buyer's own embellishment rather than finishing every detail yourself
The wraparound closure construction — the cover wraps around the front and is held closed with a tongue-and-loop system. The original design I adapted used plain paper for the tongue; I made my own changes to suit the materials I had.
How batch production changes the making process — I used to make one journal at a time, which meant planning from scratch every time. Now I make batches of seven or so at once. The thinking and planning go into the first journal; after that, you're repeating a process you've already worked out. For anyone who tends to overthink things (and I will freely admit I do), this is genuinely freeing — it gives you permission to just make.
What to include in a journal pocket, with examples from this one:
- A small paper-clip bookmark (handmade)
- Vintage postage stamps — Czechoslovakia, Mauritius, others
- A dragonfly tag
- A painted scrap-paper bookmark
- A small wooden peg that can hold pages open while you work
Hand-stitching a fabric cover — the cover fabric here used to be a tablecloth. I stitched it by hand for this journal, and even though I do a lot of machine stitching now, for journals like this I'd go back to hand stitching. There's a quality to it that suits the finished piece.
Tips & gotchas
On stiffening flimsy material: coat the inside of the leather or fabric with a mixture of PVA glue and water. It dries flexible enough to wrap and fold, but firm enough that the cover holds its shape. The ratio doesn't need to be precise — diluted enough to brush on easily, concentrated enough to leave a film. If you know another method for stiffening thin leather-like fabric, I'd genuinely love to hear it.
On signature count: five signatures gave this journal a slightly curved open. More signatures — say seven or eight — would have given it more spine bulk and helped it lie flat. If you're planning a similar journal to sell or give as a gift, err toward more rather than fewer.
On page variety: it's tempting to make every page beautiful, and in a junk journal that's natural. But plain paper — undecorated writing paper mixed into the signatures — is genuinely useful for the person using the journal. This is something I'd do more of if I made this journal again.
On batch making: the first journal in a batch is where all the decisions get made. By the time you're working on the second and third, you're not planning anymore — you're just making. If you're the kind of person who gets stuck at the planning stage, making a batch forces you past it quickly. And the journals end up more consistent, which matters if you're making them to sell.
They hold things. Not just paper and thread, but the feeling of slow, deliberate making. The word on the closure of this one says serenity, and that's exactly it. The sound of paper pages turning, the texture of a hand-stitched spine, the surprise of a postage stamp from Mauritius tucked into a pocket — that's what these journals are for. I'm planning to make more of them, and when I do, they'll carry a few lessons from this one forward.
