Some people do it standing up, some people prefer doing it in the afternoon, some use egg timers, some need a dirty desk, some need it clean, but every writer has their process. I’ve heard of athletes who don’t wash their socks because they think it will bring them good luck in a game, and I think writers have the same sort of superstitions. Perhaps calling them superstitions isn’t fair, but I know I return to the same places, books, and times of day that have been lucky for me before.
Space. Some people have a writing studio, whether it’s a converted shed on their land or an office space they rent in the city. Lots of people tend to write at a desk. I had to be weaned away from the floor. When I lived in New York City there wasn’t room for a desk in my bedroom—there was barely room for a bed, so that’s where I wrote. When I moved away and had room for a desk, I found I couldn’t write there. The only thing that seemed to work was sitting crossed legged on the floor, bent over a notebook. Not very comfortable, but that’s where I felt comfortable. My body took up as little space in the room as possible and it was easy to move my arm as I wrote.
Materials. I’ve always favored composition notebooks. I never worry about using the space to doodle or just make lists of words because I have plenty of clean paper to use, and it’s not that expensive. The only trick for me is that I have to carry a messenger bag or a really big purse if I want to carry my notebook with me wherever I go. I know a lot of writers who use moleskin or simply use scratch paper. I’m also a fan of composing poems in my head and recording them on my phone. I forget about these poems often.
Time. I’m sure I’ve written decent poems in the morning, but I can’t remember ever doing so. I like to stay up late because I feel like that’s when time unstructures itself. I don’t have to worry about my next meal or be interrupted by a phone call or a knock at the door. Sometimes I feel like the only one awake, and I love that feeling, even if I know on a logical level that it’s ridiculous.
Order vs. Chaos. When I write, I write longhand and I cultivate chaos. My notebooks are messy, my handwriting is sloppy, and I hope to forget the world for twenty minutes. I’ve also been told to revise towards the strange. Yeats said later in his writing life that he didn’t revise anymore except “in the interests of a more passionate syntax”. However, even though I like to write and even revise headlong into a little delirium, I’m very structured in how I go about it. For every poem I write, there’s a folder, and the drafts are always numbered. That way, if I manage to cut out the poem’s heart and toss it out a window during a draft, I can always go back to an earlier draft and recover what I’d lost. That means there are folders within folders, within folders, but with enough practice, I can navigate my tedious drafting without too many problems.
While this post skates over the basics of my own process, on her great blog, Myself the Only Kangaroo among the Beauty, the poet Sandy Longhorn records the details of her drafting process on each poem.
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Wow, Traci. Many thanks for mentioning the Kangaroo!
I love what you say here, especially in the last section.