Laura Rubin Collects Words. And Helps You Find Yours

Journaling evangelist and founder of AllSwell Creative is an adamant believer in the power of the page 

Laura and I first met at a dinner and bonded over our shared habit of collecting words. She leads journaling workshops; I lead a skincare company called Biography. We compared lists—she had solastalgia, I had limerence. We both have mini Bernadoodles and write with fountain pens. Friendship was inevitable (and limerence unlikely!)

Founder of AllSwell Creative, Laura has led thousands of people to face the blank page, put pen to paper, and reclaim their inner voice. Her workshops—for businesses, veterans, luxury brands, and individuals—are both personal and intentional; Much like the face oils she reaches for when the writing’s done (that’s Biography, of course, which soothes and repairs skin and might even tackle solastalgia).

In this Biography, Laura shares her favorite words, her skincare rituals, the making of her first book, and why journaling matters even more today.

The Word Collector

Laura collects words and phrases the way some people collect rocks and shells. She keeps running lists on her phone—feral, bathymetry, shenanigans, junk DNA—some saved for their sound, others for meaning. 

"I'm a sucker for folksy aphorisms," she says, "though some of the phrases on my list are my own." Recent additions include ‘Boots on the Ground,’ ‘responsibly indifferent,’ and ‘I am my own test kitchen.’

She's protective of language worn thin with overuse. "Radical has been leached of its meaning," she says. "When everything's radical, nothing is." Other casualties: unicorn, curate, self-care.

The same erosion, she argues, has happened with journaling. "Journaling has an image problem," she says. "People think it's corny, effete, or lightweight. But it's empirically proven to help with so much of what currently ails us, from focus to stress reduction."

Much of her work at AllSwell has been about breathing life back into that word.

The Texture of Things

Beyond words, Laura moves through the world attuned to texture: her notebooks, her surfboard, her signature curls. “I appreciate sensory pleasure,” she says. “Skincare is my jam. It’s not about vanity; it’s about self-respect.”

When I asked how Biography originally crossed her radar, Laura laughed. “All roads lead to Martha McCully” Martha had introduced her to a group of women in Sag Harbor, including me. “The ethos of Biography—the care, the warmth, the excellence—it immediately resonated. I became a Biography woman overnight.”

Her go-to products?

“The Full Circle Cleanser—I stockpile it. And Sea Chrome. Zero hippie scent, somehow rich and fast-absorbing. It’s a hero product.”

When she talks about her evening routine—oiling her skin, dimming the lights, writing a few lines before bed—I realized she’s describing the same quality of attention three times over. 

And her personal aesthetic? 

"Messy enough to keep it sexy." Which, honestly, might be the best metaphor for writing. "A little edge, a touch of the unexpected, something deconstructed in the mix."

Guide, Not Guru

If you’ve ever been to an AllSwell mindful journaling workshop, you know it’s intentional. 

More “dinner party” than “back to school,” candles flicker. Music hums. The chairs are spaced just so: close enough for intimacy, room enough to write your heart. People walk in as strangers. By the final word, they feel more familiar—to each other, but mostly to themselves. 

“It works every time,” Laura says. “The seed cracks open.”

Her role, she explains, is guide not guru. “I coax people away from perfectionism, from fear, from doing it ‘right.’ They relearn how to play on the page. The wisdom they meet there is their own.”

That word coax feels right. Curiosity about language and the sensory world becomes a bridge for people who haven't written in years. She still prefers paper invitations, handwritten thank-yous, and surfboards shaped by hand. 

“Pen to paper is the anti-venom for our collective digital malaise,” she says. “It’s how we reconnect with what we think and what we feel, what we long for and what we’re ready to discard.” 

The Big Unlock

"I was early, but I wasn't wrong." 

That’s the opening line of The Big Unlock, Laura’s forthcoming book—and the culmination of everything she’s learned about what happens when we stop editing ourselves.

"When I started AllSwell over a decade ago, journaling was a punchline," she says. "It had a major PR problem. I've evangelized all these years about the modality's legitimacy, and it's been a pleasure to watch the zeitgeist swing in this direction. AllSwell exists to meet people where they are, and where we are is increasingly hungry for analog connection with ourselves and each other."

Writing a book, she admits, taught her something facilitating never could: "I just re-edited the whole thing this weekend for my publisher," she laughs. "Ask me again in two weeks when I've recovered."

The Big Unlock publishes soon. You can be among the first to hold it in your hands—preorders are now open.

Direction Over Speed

Laura Rubin doesn’t hand people their answers; she helps them find their own. The page, she teaches, is where we metabolize experience.

If you ever find yourself in one of her sessions, she’ll probably tell you what she told me: “Direction is more important than speed.” It doesn’t really matter how fast you get somewhere, only that you’re on your way.

Which is exactly where you should be if you find yourself in a room with Laura. A beautifully conceived space, close to what used to be strangers, feeling oddly compelled to look inward and write out what’s been kept inside.

You might be nervous at first, unsure where to begin. Laura will be there. A safe harbor in uncharted emotional territory. She’ll hand you a notebook and say the words that begin each AllSwell workshop—the words that, really, could begin any good Biography:

“There are no wrong answers.”