Most writers, at some point, look up from the page and wonder whether their writing process is all wrong. They’re not writing at their usual time. They’re leaning on different rituals. They’ve landed in a rhythm that no longer resembles the one that used to work. It can feel like lost discipline.
It usually isn’t, because there is no single right way to do this.
But the impulse to find one makes sense. When writing feels difficult, uncertain, or slow, it is tempting to believe there must be a better method. A cleaner method. A method that would make the whole thing feel less like wandering around with a flashlight and more like following a map.
It’s kind of like how, when I was a new mom, one of my best friends (who was also a new mom) was convinced that if she could just find the right baby sling, parenting would be easier. She tried every brand she came across on social media and in the stores. She quickly collected over 8 different kinds of baby carriers and guess what: parenting was still hard.
Writing is like that.
Why Writers Keep Looking for the Perfect Writing Process
Most writers look for the right process because they want relief. They want to stop second-guessing themselves. They want progress to feel predictable.
The problem is that writers often mistake someone else’s method for a universal truth. They hear about a novelist who writes two thousand words before breakfast, or outlines on index cards, or never revises chapter one until the full draft is done, and suddenly that process starts to feel like a moral standard. It isn’t. It’s just one person’s way through.
Tidy Systems Are Seductive
There is something comforting about a system that looks organized from the outside. A perfect notebook. A color-coded outline. A morning routine.
Some of those things are genuinely useful. Anything that helps the work feel more visible and less slippery is worth keeping.
But sometimes what we love is not the process itself. It’s the certainty it gives us. A process can be beautiful, disciplined, and impressive while still not helping you write your book.
Real Processes Are Messier Than They Sound
Most writers, if they are being honest, have messier processes than they describe.
They say, “I write every morning,” and leave out the three days they avoided the draft before solving a scene while folding laundry. They say, “I outline first,” and leave out the fact that the outline changed completely by chapter six. They say, “I draft quickly,” and leave out the week spent staring at one transition, wondering if they had forgotten how language works.
That is not dishonesty. Writing processes are hard to summarize neatly because they are alive. They shift. They include false starts, weird rituals, accidental breakthroughs, and long stretches of doing your best with a brain that does not always cooperate.
Your Writing Process May Change From Book to Book
Keep in mind, too, that a writing process that worked beautifully for one book may be useless for the next.
One project may want structure. Another may want room. One season of your life may allow long, focused mornings. Another may ask you to write in scraps and notes on your phone in the carpool line.
That does not mean you’ve lost your process. It means you are writing under new conditions.
Writers would suffer less if they stopped asking, “What is my process?” as though it should be fixed forever, and started asking, “What does this project, in this season, need from me?” That is a kinder question, and usually a more useful one.
The Only Test That Actually Matters
The test is fairly simple. A process is useful when it helps you return to the work, stay with the work, and move the work forward.
That’s it. Not whether it looks disciplined. Not whether another writer on the internet swears by it.
A process that is messy but effective is still effective. One that is elegant but performative may not be helping as much as it seems.
If you’re feeling tangled up, try a small check-in. What part of writing feels hardest lately? What helps you re-enter the work with the least resistance? What are you doing because it genuinely helps, and what are you doing because it makes you look like a real writer?
What Helps No Matter How You Work
Your process can look however it needs to look. And even the best routines can’t protect you from the sticky moments in writing: losing the thread of the story, not being sure what shape it’s taking, running out of steam somewhere in the murky middle. Those aren’t signs that your process is broken. They’re just part of the territory, and they’re worth having a few tools for.
I put together a free webinar for exactly this, How to Turn Your Half-Finished Novel Into a Completed Manuscript, and I’m running on August 18, 20 and 23. It’s about the places drafts tend to stall, not about how anyone should structure their mornings, so nothing in it competes with the way you already work. We’ll spend an hour on what to do when the story loses its shape, and there’s a live Q&A at the end. No routine to adopt, no schedule to follow. Your process can stay exactly as it is.
Come as you are, messy notes and all.
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