I can’t speak for all writers, as each writer is different, and as such, each one has their own process. For me, when I write I need a little bit of chaos, which for some reason helps me focus on my writing. As an example, I actually do some of my more prolific writing sitting in a busy pub, with patrons screaming at their favorite team on the television.
Another example, and a place where I somehow manage to get a bit of writing in, is my day job. Yes, unfortunately I still have to work a regular eight to five to pay the bills. (Help a starving writer, buy my books.)
Here’s an excerpt from Deadly Storm:
Tuesday February 21st – 6:32 A.M. – Yonkers
Home of Kelli Storm
Kelli climbed out of the car and slammed the door. Of all the days for this thing not to start, it has to pick today. She reached in her pocket, pulled her cell out and hit the speed dial for the lieutenant. After several rings he answered.
“I’m going to be a little late this morning, Frank. My car decided to die on me this morning. I’ll try to get in as soon as possible, at least as soon as I can get a tow out here and get it to the shop.”
“Okay, I’ll let your partner know. You going to be able to get a ride in?”
“I’ll figure something out and call you as soon as I’m on my way,” she said as she hung up and walked back to the house.
Once inside, she pulled out a phone book and found the number for a garage, called it and got a recording. She hung up and walked into the kitchen and sat down. Well this day is going to turn out to be crap. It figures the place doesn’t open until seven-thirty, and then I’ll probably be lucky to get a tow out here by eight. Crap.
The tow truck arrived shortly after eight, by which time Kelli was livid. Rather than give the driver a hard time, as it wasn’t really his fault, she decided to wait inside while he hooked the car up. She stood by the front door, sipping on a cup of coffee as the driver went about his business. Once he had all of the chains in their proper places, he walked back to the driver side, just behind the cab, and started to lift the vehicle up.
As the nose of the car slowly lifted, Kelli spotted something on the undercarriage that looked out of place. She stepped onto the porch and tried to get the man’s attention, waving at him to stop, but he was too busy watching the car. She headed for the truck, calling out to the driver.
“Stop lifting it up,” she shouted, as she ran toward the truck.
Seconds later there was a huge explosion and Kelli found herself knocked to the ground, a loud ringing in her ears. She tried to stand, but her head was spinning and she found it difficult to get her bearings. After two more attempts, she finally gave in and lay there, trying to clear her head.
Neighbors were now out of their homes, running toward her house and the now blazing car. Someone was standing over her, asking if she was okay, and then things went black.
When I sit down to write in a noisy environment, I’m able to tune out the distractions, which I know seems counterintuitive. Why put myself in that position in the first place? Believe me, I’ve tried to sit in a library and write, and got nowhere fast. I don’t know if it’s the absence of noise or the absence of life, all I know is that when I sit down to write, I need those distractions. By the way, I’m writing this at the day job.
So tell me, how do you write, what is your process?