Joan Didion’s packing list and the illusion of preparedness

It’s the holiday season. You’re packing for your trip. There is no better time to revisit this: two skirts. Two jerseys. A bottle of bourbon. This is the famous packing list from The White Album. It is as precise as it is strange. It reads like a ritual, a personal inventory, a whisper of both glamour and dread.

It’s not really about the clothes. It’s about control. About readiness. About who she became when the suitcase clicked shut.

Joan Didion and the art of emotional precision: What writers can learn from her style

Joan Didion never wasted a word. Her prose was as spare as it was surgical. It was a style that she forged as a journalist and later honed in her essays and fiction that cut to the heart of American life. For writers and readers alike, there's so much to learn from her technique, especially in a cultural moment saturated with overstatement and noise. If there was one takeaway from Didion’s writing, it’s that less is more.