The writing process: The long and winding road

I sit at my desk and crank out a 500-word post. I struggle at first, but once I come up with an enticing lead, the post “writes itself.” Key sentences and phrases originate in my head. I can’t write them down fast enough. I try to keep pace. I don’t want to lose any of the thoughts or ideas. I hit the save button and smile. The post needs work, but like a house with a strong foundation, it has good bones.

I close my laptop feeling excited. I can’t wait to share it with my readers. I walk downstairs to tell my wife about my progress. She’s happy for me. She reminds me that there’s a birthday card for a family friend sitting on the table for me to sign. “Oh, yea, I forgot about that,” I tell her. “I’ll take care of that now.”

I stare at the card and try to pull a funny or sarcastic comment from the recesses of my brain. A mere five minutes ago, creativity was oozing from my pores. Now, I’ve got nothing. I make imaginary pen strokes, but there’s nothing there. I suffer for 15 minutes over every little word. Finally, I stop and write, “Have a Happy Birthday.” I’m raising a white flag in surrender. But it works.

The Writing Process: A struggle of wills

The experts say the writing process includes five stages: prewriting, drafting, revising, editing, and publishing. I can only speak to my own process. Sometimes my writing flows like the “Mighty Mississippi” emptying into the Gulf of Mexico. Other times it’s slower than an absent-minded turtle crossing the road. It’s a fiercely contested battle to get what’s up in my brain out into the open. Here’s the general process I follow for most of my writing:

—Generate idea for a blog post. I jot a few ideas down in a notebook because I’m bound to forget them. And who knows when I’ll actually have time to write.

—Three days later, I finally sit down at my laptop and start to write. I write an introductory paragraph.

—I erase the paragraph. I give my best Homer Simpson impression. “D’uh, think Brian! Think!”

—Check my email. I imagine being Apollo 11 Astronaut Neil Armstrong. I picture him stepping foot on the moon. I’ve got a case of the giggles. I ponder if he saw a cow jump over the moon. I wonder too if it’s really made of cheese. Oh, I’m being silly. But I recognize that creativity often has humble beginnings. From one little thought, anything can happen.

—Come up with a new lead paragraph. I imagine how the rest of the story will build from that introduction.

—Check social media. Get annoyed with the news. Try to cheer myself up by reading some entertainment news. Who’s dating whom? You get the drift. I then consider who was cooler Bugs Bunny, The Roadrunner, or Snoopy.

—Write.

—Erase.

—Write. Erase. Write. Erase. Notice a theme here.

—Move the section that’s at the bottom up to the top.

—Feel stuck. I go to the kitchen to grab a coffee. When my belly grumbles, I grab a snack, a banana.

—Write.

—Read what I’ve written. Complain that the piece sucks.

—Walk back to the kitchen. This time, I grab a soda to get rid of my coffee breath.

—Write.

—When I get stuck on a word, I give up and brainstorm possible headlines. I play with a fidget spinner and write down several idioms and sayings. I try to be punchy and to the point. I wonder if this is how Hemingway did it. I imagine Shakespeare cranking out page after page. I wonder why he was blessed and I’m here struggling to put two words together that make sense. Damn you Shakespeare.

—Complain that I’m a slow writer.

—Look for a few free-rights images to go with the post. Play with AI images. Get frustrated with AI and go back to free-rights photos.

—I’m sure it’s the exhaustion speaking, but I start to think I’m really onto something. I think that I might be onto the world’s best idea for a blog.

—Edit piece. Cutting out unnecessary words. I remove every adverb I come across. I change effect to affect. Fifteen minutes later, I say the “hell with it” and instead go with “influence.”

—I call my mom to check on her. It’s like a bad Abbot and Costello routine. She can’t hear me and my own hearing is so poor. “The doctor said what?” I yell into the phone. After a few minutes of this, she tells me she loves me. I tell her that I love her back and that I’ll call her on the weekend.

—Edit the piece. I do a 180. I now think the piece is drivel. I wonder how it went from being on the precipice of greatness to middling at best.

—Save work and edit. In the Writing Assistance section, I turn on the AI “Long Sentences” Assistant. I notice a couple long sentences but decide to keep them anyway. “AI is supposed to save the world? My ass. AI is a bunch of crap.”

—Grab a second snack: An ice cream sandwich. I read over the post three more times. I tighten the intro. I bolster the nut graph, the third paragraph where I explain where I’m going with the story. Finally, I come up with a new catchier ending.

—Save and close piece. I come back a day later and edit some more.

—Later on the weekend, I reread it one final time. Who am I kidding? I’ll steal looks at the piece several more times until it goes live.

—Schedule piece to run. Fill in Search Categories and Tag Words. I instinctively save it five more times.

—On the day it publishes, I check my site. I make sure that the post and artwork look correct. I don’t dare read it. I’ll find something wrong. Best to let sleeping dogs lie.

—Celebrate that the piece has been published. Raise an imaginary champagne glass to myself. Cheers Maestro.

—When someone comments on the post, I force myself to go back and reread it. In the short time that has passed, I’ve forgotten what I wrote. I need to know so I can respond. When I get to the end, I cringe. “I wrote that . . . Ugh.”

—Start the process all over again.

Sound familiar? Sound different? What have I missed about the writing process?