In school, we’re often taught a particular version of the writing process (maybe you also remember how you learned it). As I remember, the steps go like this: think of an idea, plan it, maybe with some mind map or bubble chart, write a draft, and then revise that draft into something polished and coherent. I remember teachers emphasizing the importance of following these steps, almost like the writing process was a one-size-fits-all formula. I tried hard to stick to that structure. But over time, I realized that my brain doesn’t seem to work that way. My actual writing process? It’s something quite different.

For me, writing begins with a thought or flicker of an idea. It might come from a conversation, something I read, or even a random thought that pops into my head while watching TV, petting my cat, or doing the dishes. Once I latch onto an idea, I don’t usually take the time to plan it on paper. I’m not one for maps or charts. Instead, if I need direction while working on a longer piece, I might jot down a simple list of key topics or headings I want to cover. This list isn’t anything formal or fancy. It’s just a rough outline that helps me keep track of what I’ve written and what still needs to be addressed. It’s more like a checklist than a map, allowing me to move ideas around as I revise. Once I have that list, or even when I don’t, I sit at the keyboard and start putting words on the page, letting my thoughts flow freely. The initial draft is often rough and meandering, but getting the ideas out matters most at this stage.

After I’ve written a first draft, I do something I was not taught in school: I walk away. I leave the draft sitting there, untouched, for several hours or even an entire day. This break isn’t procrastination; it’s part of my process. When I return to the draft, I can see it with fresh eyes. I’ve often forgotten what I was “trying” to say with each sentence, which means I’m reading it not as the writer but almost as a reader. I can catch confusing phrasings, awkward word choices, and gaps in logic that I might have missed if I had stayed immersed in the writing. Sometimes, I’ll even print out the draft and mark it with a pen, circling words that feel off and scribbling notes in the margins. I’ve noticed that doing revisions in a different format, like on paper instead of a screen, can help me see details I might have overlooked. This approach permits me to be honest with myself about what needs to change.

Once I’ve done an initial round of revisions, I usually repeat the process: walk away again, let some time pass, and return to the paper for another revision. This cycle might repeat two or three times, or even more, depending on the length and complexity of the piece. With each round, I notice new things to improve, maybe a better way to phrase something, or a section that could be expanded or tightened. This slow, step-away-and-return method helps me turn that messy first draft into a coherent and polished piece. I’ve found that it also gives me a sense of satisfaction to see the progress made from one version to the next, like watching a rough stone being shaped into something smoother and more precise.

Looking back, I realize that while the standard writing process taught in school has its merits, it doesn’t necessarily fit everyone’s style. For me, writing is less about planning every detail and more about exploring ideas through drafting and revising. The time I spend away from the draft helps me return to it with a clearer mind and a sharper eye. While my process might look messy or unstructured compared to the standard approach, it works for me. And I think that’s the most important thing when it comes to writing: finding a process that fits your way of thinking and creating.