Confessions of an ADHD Author
Some writers have outlines.
Some writers have carefully organized character profiles, detailed timelines, color-coded notes, and beautiful little spreadsheets explaining exactly what's supposed to happen in Chapter Seventeen.
And then there's me.
I sit down at my computer with a cup of coffee, a vague idea of what I want to accomplish, and approximately seventeen squirrels running around in my brain.
My plan might be perfectly reasonable. Write a chapter. Develop a scene. Maybe get a thousand words down before doing something responsible, like laundry.
Three hours later, I've written several thousand words, introduced a character I wasn't planning on creating, and somehow ended up with an entirely different scene than the one I originally intended.
And the laundry?
That bitch can wait.
Welcome to the Word-Vomit Method
I've heard writers talk about carefully crafting their first drafts, choosing every word with intention, and making sure each paragraph flows beautifully into the next.
That sounds lovely.
I wouldn't know anything about it.
My writing process involves opening the floodgates and letting everything come pouring out.
Dialogue? Absolutely.
Descriptions? Sure.
Random plot twists? Why the hell not?
A character suddenly deciding they're going to do something completely different from what I planned?
Apparently, I'm just here to operate the keyboard.
When the words are flowing, I don't want to stop and worry about whether a sentence is perfect. I want to get the story out of my head before one of those squirrels runs off with it.
And sometimes, that's exactly what I need.
Other times, I come back the next morning, reread what I've written, and wonder whether I was temporarily possessed by a caffeinated raccoon.
Then Comes the Cleanup Crew
Here's where things get interesting.
Because writing thousands of words feels fantastic.
Editing those thousands of words?
Well, that's when I discover the crime scene.
Apparently, I thought it was perfectly reasonable to repeat the same information three times. A conversation that should have taken two paragraphs somehow lasted four pages. And occasionally, a character does something that makes absolutely no sense because my brain was already six scenes ahead.
Then there's the punctuation.
We don't talk about the punctuation.
Okay, we do, but usually with profanity.
The funny thing is that I genuinely enjoy going back through my work and making it better. I love watching a rough scene turn into something emotional, funny, or beautiful.
I just wish the squirrels would occasionally leave me a note explaining what the hell they were thinking.
My Characters Aren't Helping
If you've read Whispering Hope, the first book in my Legacy Series, you've already met some of the people responsible for my questionable relationship with organization.
Kari Blake is brilliant, independent, fiercely loyal, and perfectly capable of taking a scene in a direction I wasn't expecting.
Lucas Devilton has his own ideas.
And the rest of the characters?
Let's just say nobody asked my permission before developing personalities.
I can sit down intending to write one simple interaction and suddenly find myself following a conversation that wasn't part of the plan.
But that's also one of my favorite things about writing.
Sometimes the unexpected moments become the ones I love most.
Of course, I still have to go back and make sure those moments fit the story.
Because apparently, continuity matters.
Who knew?
And That's How Wilbert Happened
Eventually, I started thinking about how much easier my writing life would be if I had somewhere to collect all this chaos.
Not a complicated productivity system that requires seventeen different apps, six spreadsheets, and a motivational speech before breakfast.
Just something designed for a brain like mine.
Somewhere to track my writing progress, capture random ideas, keep character details straight, and remind myself where the hell I left off.
That idea eventually became The Squirrel Chaos Container, my ADHD-friendly writing journal.
And naturally, it needed a mascot.
Enter Wilbert.
An overcaffeinated, slightly unhinged squirrel who looks like he has approximately as much control over his life as I do over my first drafts.
Honestly, he's perfect.
I'm currently waiting for my physical copy to arrive, and I fully intend to introduce that furry little troublemaker to the world when it gets here.
Assuming he survives the postal service.
So, Fellow Writers, I Have Questions
Does anybody else write like this?
Do you sit down with a perfectly reasonable plan, start typing, and suddenly discover you've produced thousands of words that will require extensive cleanup?
Do your characters hijack your scenes?
Do you forget the brilliant idea you had five minutes ago because your brain decided to investigate something completely unrelated?
Or are you one of those magical people who can create a detailed outline and actually follow it?
Because I would genuinely love to know what that's like.
Personally, I've accepted that my writing process is a combination of creativity, caffeine, chaos, and occasional profanity.
And you know what?
It works for me.
The first draft doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to exist.
I can clean up the crime scene later.
Now tell me: Are you a plotter, a pantser, or a fellow professional word-vomiter?
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