The Writing Process

By Sharon May

Textbooks describe writing as both a linear yet recursive process. They give activities for researching, prewriting, planning, drafting, revising, editing, publishing, and proofreading. Of course, don’t forget to pay attention to audience, purpose, and style along the way. This looks like such a clean process, like a paint-by-numbers kit, but beginning writers learn quickly that the process often brings more chaos than direction. Writers do all of this even though textbooks don’t describe anyone’s actual process.

The classroom setting further makes the writing process unreal for beginners. Writers don’t sit in uncomfortable, undersized desks arranged in rows filled with other struggling writers. Teachers usually demand silence, although it is broken by pencil sharpeners, shuffling through book bags, crumpling of pieces of paper deemed useless, and the occasional sigh or groan.

Beginning writers want the process to be easy like the textbook describes. They envision “real” writers following these steps and producing the finished product in one sitting and in one draft. These beginning believe in their frustration that they aren’t real writers because they have to keep revising.

If they only believed me when I explain how many pages and versions the authors probably wrote to produce the textbook. If they only believed me when explain that they have to find a process that works for them using the toolkit provided. And many times that process will have steps no one else does.

 

Let’s admit it. All writers have quirks that drive their process. Some have favorite places to write – a coffee shop or library. One of my groups in a reading class produced their papers in a McDonalds. I knew a writer who sat in his car in a parking lot far from home because he had to be alone without the chance of interruption.

Some prefer the predawn dark, either because they’ve stayed up all night or just gotten up. This is the only productive time for many female writers with children. Some need background noise, which is why I let my beginning writers use their IPhones.  

Quirks get quirkier when trying to solve writing problems. I have a colleague who writes a sentence or two and then paces around the room until the next sentence comes. A poet friend shuts down his Mac, and rolls a sheet of paper into one of his many collected manual typewriters because he loves the clanking of the keys capturing his poem. Another colleague wrote her Masters’ thesis on sticky notes that decorated her walls for months. If I’m stuck, I leave the computer, lie down on the couch, stare at the ceiling, and concentrate on the characters and what they would say or do.

Take a few minutes to examine your process and quirks. Learn to appreciate them and be thankful you found what works as you weave your way through the chaos of trying to say what you think, feel, and imagine in ways never been written before.