I have discovered something about my personal writing process that I think I should share.
Writing as a ritual does not work for me. I can’t have a process involving a particular time and a particular place or even a particular word processor or a font. My mind rebels at the thought of writing becoming a chore. I suspect this is true for at least some other people too.
What works for me is chaos and unpredictability. The other day, I returned home to a locked door and I had forgotten to take my keys with me. So I sat on the stairs for an hour and wrote almost a thousand words on my phone. I hadn’t written that much in a single day for over a week.
A few days ago, sitting in a bus by the window, I typed out an entire scene on my mobile.
Mind that I am talking only about my stories here, my ongoing fiction works. I write several hundred words everyday as part of work. That is a matter of necessity and I do it as such.
I find myself seized by the urge to proceed with an unfinished chapter when I am in a new place. That very same chapter might have seemed like a drag when I was sitting on my writing desk at home, in front of my laptop.
Yes, I am a freak. Also, now I realise why some writers work in cafes. Boredom in the writer is the greatest enemy a story can have.