Writing Process: Shutting Down Your Inner Editor—Or Not

There’s nothing like writing to expose all your personality quirks. And by quirks, of course, I mean all those precious little neuroses, psychoses, proclivities, and the flat-out whack-a-doodleness that make you… you.

Or is that just me?

I’m going to assume I’m in good company. Humor me.

I’m a bit of a perfectionist. (I’ll just pause here while my friends stop laughing.) And I like to have my actions organized. Not my house, mind you, but my actions. That means I like to have my work assignments clarified, my deadlines met, my tasks lined up like good little ducks. I freely admit it: I’m a list-oholic.

It turns out that’s the way I write, too.

A popular way to draft a novel is the NaNoWriMo method—write like hell to get the first messy draft down on paper. Ignore your inner editor while you’re writing that first draft. Don’t stop. Don’t go back to the beginning and start revising before you’ve finished the whole draft. Leave notes to yourself, like “add something exciting here that causes Fred to accidentally murder Bob,” then go back later to fill in those gaps. But get that first draft on the page now.

I struggle with that. There, I admitted it out loud.

It’s great advice. Seriously.

I absolutely see the merit in it, and I will happily advise other writers to follow it. As my good friend, author Sydney Salter says, “It’s so much easier to make something great when it already exists.” I just have a hard time following that advice myself.

For me, the thought of leaving all those messy breadcrumbs behind me is so unsettling, it actually distracts me from whatever I’m writing. What if I keep going and write myself into a corner, I worry, where no manner of revision will get Fred to accidentally murder a potted geranium, let alone Bob?

So, as I write, I tend to go back to previous chapters to make sure that I’m staying on track. I ensure my characters’ voices are consistent. That their motivations are clear. That the plot points are ticking along the way they should. That the subplots are weaving in the way I need them to.

My progress looks something like two steps forward, one step back, then two steps forward again. The good news is: that’s still a net gain in progress.

That doesn’t mean I catch everything, of course. I often get to the end of my draft with a list of “revision notes” for myself—things like “make sure Fred’s eyes stay brown through every chapter” or “Bob seems unmoored in the first half. Give him a goldfish.” So, my first draft isn’t perfect, by any means, but it usually feels somewhat solid.

I know my method won’t work for everyone, or even for most people. And I realize for some perfectionists (because we perfectionists vary greatly in our particular characteristics), my method could be totally paralyzing.

Some writing rules are universally beneficial (like, say, standardized spelling). But the process of writing is unique to every single writer and personality.

My point is this: Don’t let someone else define how you should make progress. Find your own path that works with your own personality “quirks,” but also be aware of when or where those quirks make you stumble. Try out a few different methods. Settle on one that works for you at this point in your writing life. Then remember that this method might not work for your next project, so give yourself permission to adapt your process as necessary.

Giving my inner editor some wiggle room while I draft works for me. I might take longer to get the first draft down on paper than some other writers who keep their inner editor in a locked room watching “Jeopardy” reruns during the first draft. But I enjoy my own progress more because I don’t worry that when I open that manuscript to start revising it, everything will collapse around me.

My closets, though? That’s a whole different story.