I’ve always been a spreader. As soon as I sit down to begin or resume a project, the desk—or, more likely, table—is filled with the materials that accompany my writing, including a jar or mug filled with sufficient pens and pencils (all of a special type) and at least one ruled pad of paper, although scraps of paper will eventually abound, covering every surface. Growing up in a family of four housed in a two-bedroom apartment, my spreading habit drove my parents crazy. I haven’t changed.
I do try to discipline myself by creating order in my writing space before ending work for the day, but the following day—within minutes—the neatly organized desk explodes and I find myself back in the midst of the chaos that seems to feed my creative process.
Although I still tend to scribble notes to myself on thoughts about the latest work in progress or draft a bit of dialogue before turning to my laptop, I’ve taken to occasionally gathering these bits and pieces into one place and transcribing them into a spiral notebook dedicated to whatever project I’m working on. It became cumbersome to keep sorting through those odd pieces of paper. I find it much easier to work through the notebook, confident that nothing has been lost. And more recently, I’ve started to pick up the notebook, turn to a new page, and let the words flow—my version of Julia Cameron’s “Morning Papers.”
My creativity seems to flow best when I write longhand. There’s something about that process that unleashes the free flow of ideas. While I have excellent keyboarding skills (my brother and I will be eternally grateful to our parents for encouraging us to take a typing class in high school), writing on the computer works better for me when I’m shaping ideas into a logical flow that is more detailed than the sketch of an idea that emerges when I’m writing longhand. It’s almost as if creative writing requires the use of two different tracks in my brain. It works for me.
What works for you?