As a professional writer and editor with over twenty-five years in the trenches of storytelling, I’ve honed a process that’s equal parts chaos and structure. It’s not a one-size-fits-all blueprint. After all, writing is deeply personal. But sharing the nuts and bolts of how I work might spark ideas for your own routine. Whether you’re crafting novels, essays, or blog posts, for me, the key is adaptability.
The Sky Over Chaos: Short StoriesIt all starts with the idea phase, which I call “mental composting.” Inspiration doesn’t usually strike like lightning; it simmers. I keep a digital notebook (either Apple notes or directly into the Ulysses app), stuffed with fragments of overheard conversations, news clippings, and random “what if” questions. For instance, a night watching an extremely drunk man at a hotel bar turned into a stream of consciousness short story. A walk in the park might jog a memory of childhood mischief, morphing into a short story about rebellion. A spur of the moment stop in a ghost town, resulted in a historical fiction novel about the quirky man who founded it. I try to set aside 15 minutes daily, during the week, for free-writing without judgment. I can expand and edit later. This builds a compost heap of raw material. I’ve found that 80% of my best ideas emerge from revisiting these scraps months later, when they’re fermented into something richer.
Once an idea demands attention, I dive into outlining. I’m a plotter at heart, especially for longer works like my current sci-fi trilogy. Occasionally, I use a mind-mapping tool, but usually, it’s my Notion app for just outlining briefly and adding research or idea “cards.” Here’s, I flesh out characters, conflicts, and twists. In between the outline, I “pants” it (“writing by the seat of your pants”), letting the story unfold organically. The hybrid works wonders: a loose outline prevents meandering and ensures a sound narrative arc, while room for surprises keeps it alive. Tip for beginners: start with a one-page synopsis. What’s the hook? The climax? The emotional arc? This anchors you without stifling creativity. I once abandoned a 20,000-word draft because my outline was too rigid. I now treat my outlines as a GPS, not a prison. If the story pulls me outside the outline in a different direction, I follow it and rewrite.
Drafting is where the magic (and mess) happens. I aim for “vomit drafts”—get it all out fast, no perfectionism allowed. I write in focused bursts: 25-minute Pomodoro sessions with a timer, followed by a five-minute break to stretch or coffee. Environment matters; I thrive in a quiet café corner. I shoot for 800-1,000 words a day for novels, 500 for short stories or articles.
Here’s how I fight procrastination: I use a “five-minute rule.” If a scene feels daunting, I tell myself I’m going to write for only five minutes, and I set a timer. It almost always snowballs into a longer writing session. And remember, your first draft is for you, not the reader. Mine are riddled with placeholders like [needs more emotion here] or [fix this plot hole]. Embrace the ugliness; it’s the rough and ugly piece of marble that you will sculpt and sand into a work of art.
Unlike many writers, I enjoy editing. Perhaps this is because I have been an editor for many decades. To continue the above metaphor, editing is the sculptor’s chisel to the marble. I let each draft rest for at least a week; fresh eyes reveal flaws I missed in the heat of creation.
My process has layers: self-edit first for big-picture stuff. Does the story arc hold? Are characters consistent? I read aloud to catch awkward phrasing. Then, structural revisions: cut 10-20% ruthlessly (as William Faulkner reportedly said, “In writing, you must kill all your darlings,” popularized by Anne Lamott). If a scene doesn’t advance plot or character, cut Ira. For line edits, I focus on rhythm, clarity, and voice.
Beta readers are essential for me—diverse voices and differing viewpoints help me spot blind spots. My last stage of editing is to proofread on a different device or even a print-out (digital fatigue is real).
For me, overworking and burnout is a real issue, especially if I get excited about something. So I schedule “recharge days” with no screens. I take hikes, read books, go to a wine or whiskey tasting, or play my guitar or ukulele. I do track my progress in a journal: every significant win and loss. Tracking wins gives me encouragement to see how far I’ve come; tracking losses teach me to be better. (You learn more from failure than you do from success.)
I hope you find some of these ideas helpful. But I would say the secret for any successful writer is consistency. Show up daily, do your work, and trust your process, and you’ll be surprised how much your ability as a writer grows.
Share your ideas or reactions in the comments: let’s inspire each other.
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