Today we share the second of six pieces of public writing selected for publication from an assignment in ENGL 801 “Graduate Studies in English”: a piece of public scholarship (700-1,000 words) which tailors an academic paper and its scholarly intervention of 10-12 pages for a general-interest audience.
Read more about the assignment and the first publication, “Men, Monsters, and Maidens: Gender in Dracula” by Amber McAfee (MA ’26), in the post from December 5. Now, on to “Journaling on Mars: The Pen is Mightier Than the Planet” by Jeffery Jones (MA ’26)!
— Karin Westman, Professor and Department Head / Instructor for ENGL 801 B/ZA (Fall 2024)
Imagine being stranded on Mars, completely alone, with no way to call for help. No phones, no internet, not even a way to yell across the void. For Mark Watney, the hero of Andy Weir’s The Martian, the solution wasn’t just science; it was storytelling. Watney’s log entries, written in the face of certain doom, aren’t just a survival tool. They’re an emotional lifeline, a source of humor, and even a way to leave his mark on humanity (pun intended).
What makes The Martian so captivating isn’t just its scientific accuracy or Watney’s knack for MacGyvering his way out of impossible situations. It’s the way Watney’s journaling transforms the classic man-versus-nature narrative into something deeply personal. His logs aren’t just a how-to guide for survival—they’re his voice, his fight to stay sane, and, ultimately, his way of preparing for the worst while hoping for the best. The epistolary format is a fancy term for storytelling through letters or diary entries, or in this case, electronic mission log entries. Let’s explore how the epistolary form turns Watney’s journey into a story that’s as much about humanity as it is about science.
“Dear Diary, I’m Not Dead Yet”
This transformative power of the epistolary form to tell a story lies in its intimacy. In The Martian, Watney’s journal entries let readers experience his thoughts in real time. This format gives us front-row seats to his jokes, frustrations, and brilliant problem-solving. More than that, it lets us see his humanity.
From the very first entry, Watney writes with an awareness that he might not make it. “I don’t even know who’ll read this,” he begins: “Maybe a hundred years from now” (Wier 1). These aren’t just survival notes; they’re the Mars version of carving “Mark was here” into a tree. In a place where his footprints will blow away with the wind, his words are the one thing of himself he can leave behind.
It’s this personal connection that makes Watney so relatable, even as he’s doing things most of us could never dream of. We’re not just watching someone survive; we’re hearing his thoughts, feeling his fear, and laughing along with him as he uses levity to keep himself sane.
Humor: The Last Oxygen Tank
Let’s be honest: without Watney’s humor, this story would be unbearably bleak. Journaling allows Watney to vent his frustrations and give some comic relief to his situation, giving him (and us) a reason to laugh in the face of disaster. When he describes his potato-farming skills or complains about NASA micromanaging him from millions of miles away, we see his ability to stay human in a situation that would break most of us.
Humor, in Watney’s case, is more than just a coping mechanism; it’s a survival strategy. By turning his dire circumstances into punchlines, he reclaims a sense of control. His humor becomes a kind of mental armor, shielding him from the crushing weight of his isolation. It’s proof that, even on Mars, a good laugh can be a lifeline.
The Modern Frontier: Little HAB on the Prairie
If Mars is the new frontier (sorry, “the final frontier” was already taken), then Watney is its quintessential pioneer. Watney uses his ingenuity to transform an uninhabitable planet into a temporary home like an American yeoman of old, meaning a self-reliant farmer who embodied rugged individualism. His potato farm isn’t just food; it’s proof that he can wrest life from the dead soil of Mars.
Watney’s ingenuity and resourcefulness echo an old story about survival and self-reliance, but The Martian gives it a modern twist. Instead of plowing fields, Watney hacks life-support systems and calculates calorie intakes. Instead of taming a wilderness, he makes peace with it, respecting Mars for what it is: a lethal but awe-inspiring adversary (Smith).
Cast Away in Space
Watney’s journal entries don’t just help him survive; they keep him sane. They act like the volleyball “Wilson” in the 2000 film Castaway: a stand-in for human connection. Writing to an imagined audience gives Watney a way to process his fears, celebrate his victories, and vent his frustrations.
By addressing a hypothetical reader, Watney bridges the gap between himself and the rest of humanity. His words are his way of saying, “I’m still here,” even when there’s no one around to hear it. It’s this act of communication, however one-sided, that keeps him grounded. His journal is both a conversation and a lifeline, connecting him to a world he might never see again.
Good-bye Cruel World
Watney’s logs aren’t just about staying sane or an effort to be a modern day pioneer; they’re his way of preparing for the worst. If he doesn’t make it, his words will be the only proof he ever existed. In this sense, his journals double as a self-epitaph, a way to have a lasting impact, even if he dies alone on Mars.
This dual purpose of both survival and legacy is what makes the epistolary format so powerful. Watney’s words let him derive meaning from his isolation, turning what could have been a story of despair into one of resilience. Even in the face of overwhelming odds, he’s determined to be more than a casualty. His logs remind us that survival isn’t just about staying alive; it’s about preserving the essence of who we are.
So, What?
At its core, The Martian is more than a sci-fi survival story. It’s a reminder of the power of storytelling, even in the most extreme circumstances. Watney’s journal entries show us how words can sustain us, connect us, and give us hope when everything else seems lost.
The epistolary format transforms Watney’s journey from a series of survival-hack tutorials into a deeply personal story about what it means to be human. It’s not just about surviving Mars; it’s about surviving ourselves, finding meaning in isolation, and leaving a legacy that says, “I was here.” So, the next time you’re journaling or writing a blog post, remember, you’re not just putting words on a page. You’re leaving a mark, just like Mark Watney. And who knows? Maybe, like him, you’ll find that storytelling is the ultimate tool for survival.
Works Cited
“An astronaut in a space suit writing in his journal on Mars” prompt, Adobe Express, Generative Image, 22 Nov. 2024, new.express.adobe.com
Cast Away. Directed by Robert Zemeckis, Twentieth Century Fox Studios, 2000.
Smith, Phillip. “The American Yeoman in Andy Weir’s The Martian.” Science Fiction Studies,vol. 46, no. 2, July 2019. pp. 322-341. FS-TH Inc., https://doi.org/10.5621/sciefictstud.46.2.0322.
Weir, Andy. The Martian. First edition. New York: Crown Publishers, 2014.
— Jeffery Jones (MA ’26)
K-State English 
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