Finding the best writing process for you. A reflection on writing as neurodivergent.

There’s this pervasive myth often portrayed in movies and shows that authors only need one lightbulb moment and then they can sit down and write a perfect novel from beginning to end. After the great idea happens, everything just comes together like magic, and when they write “The End”, it’s literally the end of the writing project. They never need to actively sift through thousands of ideas before they find one they can work with, then spend time coming up with a unique angle. They never need to research the details, while agonizing over every choice for weeks on end. They don’t need to rewrite, revise and edit their book five hundred times. Until I had written my first novel, I never realized how many decisions go into a novel. It’s mind-blowing how many details a writer needs to consider to create a realistic world, characters and story.

Some novels are lighter and easier to write than others, but they’re still a lot more work than people think. When a writer hasn’t taken the time to consider every detail, it shows in the finished product, so over time, us writers develop a process to help us craft our novels as best we can. At one end of the spectrum is the meticulous planner, who plans every detail before they put a single word down. A meticulous writer may even pause to consider how a sentence will be written before they start typing. Then there’s the reckless abandon free-writer, who has no idea where their story is heading and sentences just flow out of them. They usually end up rewriting, revising and editing quite a lot more, but the end result can be just as good. In my opinion, both ends of the spectrum have their merit, and it’s all fine and good until someone gives new writers specific instructions on precisely how they should be writing. The truth is, everyone needs to figure out what works best for their own unique mind.

Neurodivergent folks are super diverse and everyone’s needs for accommodation are different, so I can only speak from my own experience. I always knew I was different, but it wasn’t until I was an adult that I was diagnosed with inattentive ADHD and then started to wonder if I’m autistic too. But long before I knew I was neurodivergent, I understood how my brain works and I had a ton of strategies to manage as well as I could. One of the things I always hated was when a teacher would ask us students to write an outline before writing an essay. How can you write an outline first, before knowing anything about the subject? Of course, unless I was forced, I wouldn’t write an outline at all. I would thoroughly research the subject, write down everything I thought was interesting and my essay would organically start taking shape. When I was able to see a general theme, I’d revise it until it was organized and flowed properly. I have a similar process when I’m writing novels. My narratives usually start from one narrow situation and I build on that situation until a story starts taking shape. It’s like I must start from the details, but after my idea has developed enough then I can see the bigger picture and I can adjust my novel to improve the narrative. Starting a project from the details is considered fairly typical of a monotropic mind—a type of intense narrow focus a lot of us neurodivergent folks have (1. 2.).

In a way, I’m much closer to the free-writer than I am to the meticulous planner, but I don’t so much free-write as build upwards, outwards, and within. I definitely rewrite and edit a lot, but I’ve discovered that writing test scenes is how I develop my ideas, so the work of revision is an essential part of my process. In a weird way, writing helps me think. It’s when I’m editing my prose that my attention to detail for some reason vanishes and my mind glosses over typos, missing words and errors, and I have to literally print off my writing and force myself to pay attention to each word so that I can catch mistakes. 

When I was growing as a writer I really had to learn about myself and what worked best for me. It wasn’t just my process that I had to figure out, but also finding the correct environment where I could focus. If there are voices, distracting sounds, or a lot going on around me, I won’t be able to write. I hate writing assists: spelling and grammar underlines, pop-ups and autocorrections are distracting for me, so I always turn them off. It often takes a bit of effort to get focused, but when I do, the concentration is so intense that it’s jarring for someone to tap me on the shoulder to get my attention. I work best when I can be immersed in one project for a long time, such as writing the same story for multiple days at a time. When I try to multitask, I lose focus entirely and start making mistakes.

I’ve discovered it’s useful to be aware of how my mind works and how it limits my prose. I’m a literal thinker, so if someone says something sarcastic to me and they’re not doing the sarcastic voice, I take the words literally. I have trouble noticing hints or double meanings or connecting context to people’s statements. I prefer when people tell me things directly, instead of them hoping I’ll pick up on subtle meanings. As a result of being a literal thinker, I tend to write very clear and direct, and I over explain. It’s also a problem when it comes to writing dialogue with subtext or when I’m writing a character who doesn’t know everything about themself. I sometimes portray my characters thinking, “I’m this way because this and that happened,” but in reality, it’s unrealistic for people to be so self-aware. 

My first experience with a professional editor made me realize that I’ve taken every bit of advice I’ve received from mentors and teachers, and I’ve turned them into a list of inflexible rules which were severely limiting my prose. Someone once told me adverbs were tacky, so I put it on my mental list of rules without realizing that in some situations a well chosen adverb can be the best way to go. I discovered I had to stop thinking of every bit of advice I received as hard and fast rules that must be applied in every situation. My partner says I have digital thinking, where it’s either a yes or a no, and nothing in-between, and it leads me to over-adjust after accepting advice. 

Growing in understanding of my own unique mind has been the key to developing my craft and I suspect it’s probably the same for a lot of people, whether they’re neurodivergent or not. In any case, I think there’s a lot to be said about taking the time to learn how your mind works and trusting that only you know what writing process works best for you.