![\"Desk](\"https:\/\/blogger.googleusercontent.com\/img\/b\/R29vZ2xl\/AVvXsEgLIayXaZDTBV34ba1CkAPi595t_peQwDY6b8QbJ7cHY0vGhOH0SabLzbrWmuWUBMElx0NXIRiMZDRN__qaIk5L55z8iObSeSOqRMic0Ql7B7Wrgksl2OFzii8eACiAwivK1V4eutdDqwG5sgXNNareFF7v8SCIjzpcSqgTY-IpPopNsiceuTG7KGJiLaI\/s1592\/winter%20work%20desk.jpg\" "\\"Work")
<\/a><\/div>\nI taught writing for two decades, for middle school through PhD students. You might assume I have my writing process down. <\/span>RIGHT?<\/span><\/p>\n Maniacal laughter \u2013 face plants in crumpled paper.<\/span>><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Teaching taught me so much, like how unique everyone’s process is. I also learned that sometimes it’s easier to be kind to other writers than to oneself. I honestly would prefer to write a quippy post about process hacks (I love me some rainbow sticky notes!). But what has saved me this year is revising how I <\/span>think and feel<\/span> about my creative process. <\/span><\/p>\n When I worked with struggling readers, I used to start the school year by having a volunteer come to the front of the class. I asked them to repeat negative statements about our situation such as, I don’t want to do this. This is pointless,<\/i> and so on. I had them raise their arm from their side. I’d try to press it down — and down went their arm. Easy. Then I had the students repeat affirming phrases about the task and themselves. I can do this! I’m strong! <\/i>Suddenly their strength manifested. Even when I pushed hard, they held ther arms firm. I wanted students to discover the power of their own self-talk and belief. A power that still surprises me.<\/span><\/p>\n (Fellow Language Arts teacher Karen Ernst and me in 2000, on the last day of school. By this day, many of our students had discovered that they could do more than they thought!)<\/p>\n It’s funny. I used to encourage my students to think about how their brains naturally work in order to figure out their writing process. Were they list people? Did they need to freewrite to find out what they think. Were they more visual, auditory, kinesthetic, concrete or abstract, and so on. There was no right or wrong answer. How could they work with <\/i>their brains, not against them? For which parts of their writing would they need support — because we all need help.\u00a0<\/p>\n Author Mary Logue talks about considering how we do other tasks, maybe at home or work, and how that might give us insights into our creative process. Do we need external deadlines? Do we need silence or visual reminders?\u00a0As<\/span> <\/span>Lee Wind recently pointed out<\/span><\/a>, the secret is not learning how others work but how we<\/i> work. Yes! Good! Smart! <\/span><\/p>\n But in my weaker moments, I’m embarrassed by my early drafts. I berate myself. I feel ashamed at how ridiculous, how messy, how longwinded my work is. Who puts in that many details? What even IS my process? I have a thousand process hacks, and they definitely help, but at a certain point, everything falls apart. Who writes like this?! <\/span><\/p>\n Me, apparently. <\/span><\/p>\n Outstretched arm drops.><\/span><\/p>\n This spring my process — and my self-talk — were put to the test. Yes, there were tears. But there was also an unexpected discovery. It brought me back to the truths I once offered my young student writers all those years ago. As always, they are still teaching me.<\/p>\n <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n This March, we were at the dinner table when i couldn’t hold back the sobs. I had been struggling for weeks to craft an op-ed in response to the U.S. Supreme Court case <\/span>Mahmoud v. Taylor<\/a><\/span>, which names my picture book <\/a><\/span>Love, Violet<\/a><\/span>, along with eight other LGBTQ+ picture books<\/a>. The clock was ticking down to the oral arguments. Would I miss my chance to speak? The strain of dredging up old experiences of growing up queer and religious was draining my reserves. I\u2019m chronically ill, so most days I\u2019m also managing shifting symptoms and brain fog. I couldn’t wait for a better health season. This op-ed to be done now! How could I condense a complex experience into 750 words? Every revision sprawled longer. I started over, over and over. <\/span>This essay was getting WORSE. My process was a nightmare.<\/span><\/p>\n Cue sobbing><\/span><\/p>\n After listening, my spouse gently pointed out that despair was part of my process.<\/span><\/p>\n What?! Unhelpful! Try again, dear wife!<\/i><\/span><\/p>\n Except\u2026 she was right. <\/span><\/p>\n At some point, my projects always fall apart. As do I.<\/b> Maybe I can\u2019t find the structure or focus. I’m asked to cut something meticulously crafted or to abandon my approach. At some point, everything feels impossible. <\/span><\/p>\n Yet realizing this is my “normal” process reminded me of something else I knew in my bones but didn’t want to admit:<\/span><\/p>\n My best epiphanies follow despair. After \u201cgiving up,\u201d I wake up the next day with a fresh fierceness to solve problems. After the collapse of hope, I’m suddenly open to extreme revision. Maybe it\u2019s a survival instinct: Am I really going to let this project die? <\/i>Maybe for me, testing the stakes of actually quitting forces me to do what it takes to make a project work.<\/span><\/p>\n Apparently, this is my process. <\/span><\/p>\n Realizing that despair isn\u2019t the end <\/i>but a means <\/i>has truly helped me. <\/span>Isn\u2019t that what stories teach us, too? That as bad as things get… there is hope?<\/span><\/p>\n That op-ed that had me in tears somehow ended up published in<\/span> <\/span>U.S. News and World Report<\/span><\/a>\u00a0<\/i>(video intro<\/a>) the night before the Supreme Court oral arguments \u2013 just in time. I have no idea how I got from mess to focus to the right voice. And maybe that isn’t helpful… except to know that it happened. It was <\/i>possible when it felt like it wasn’t. That’s something.<\/span><\/p>\n Here’s the most important part of the story — the part that I hope would make my students proud. After that impossible op-ed, there was one more topic I dearly wanted to write about before the Supreme Court announced their decision in June or July. Clock resumes ticking.> This idea was complex. I had tried to write an op-ed bout it a years ago. It was about justice. It felt urgent. But as is my way, that first attempt became so tangled with sprawling sentences and too many ideas… I gave up in despair. <\/span><\/p>\n Could I do it now?<\/span><\/p>\n This time, I began differently, with the same determination — but also with grace, with acceptance of my I began with raw scribbles. I scratched out points on scraps of paper. I laid them out. My teaching friend Karen (pictured above) and I used to call this stage notecard solitaire. I looked for groupings, a possible order. Slowly and painfully, I let myself write everything I wanted to say in a 7,000-word draft. <\/i><\/span>Ridiculous! Who writes this long?!<\/span> The familiar thoughts rose like shrieking vampires from my nightmares. <\/span><\/p>\n [Sidebar: You might enjoy this song about killing the vampires of doubt <\/span>(with<\/span> swearing)<\/span>: <\/span>https:\/\/scbwi.blogspot.com\/2025\/06\/pointless-joy-returning-to-heart-in-our.html<\/a>\u00a0]<\/p>\n This time, instead of berating myself, instead of abandoning hope, I chanted: <\/span>This is my process, This is my process. This is\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n This time, I didn\u2019t cry. There were a thousand deep sighs. There were wretched drafts that kind people reviewed to help me find my way. This is my process. This is possible. This is… <\/i><\/span><\/p>\n How that essay transitioned from an unreadable franken-draft to the 3,600-word essay that is now on submission\u2026 I have no idea. Except that I understood that the nightmare was wasn’t the ending. It was the means.<\/span><\/p>\n I wish I could reveal your perfect process, offer you the exact right tips. Your proces might change with each project or with time. There are so many resources on process here at SCBWI and at Kidlit 411 (Here are some that have<\/span> <\/span>worked for me<\/span><\/a>). But what has helped me most is accepting that my nightmarish process is mine — and it can work. Somehow that takes the fear out of it, at least a little. <\/span><\/p>\n What makes our work shine is the particular weirdness of our brains. Only we can create what we create. Criticizing our own brains and processes is a waste of energy. Not every project will work… but many projects <\/span>can <\/span>work if we embrace our unique way of being in the world. <\/span><\/p>\n Even our nightmares have their uses. <\/span><\/p>\n And isn\u2019t that kind of like life? Just when everything feels unbearable, impossible\u2026 the morning comes?<\/span><\/p>\n I’m wish you faith for the nightmares, and joy for the journey.<\/span><\/p>\n XO Charlotte<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n
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<\/span><\/p>\nterrible<\/strike> unique process. I WOULD NOT PANIC. No matter how tangled my drafts became, I would persist, step by step, breath by breath, because recently, my nightmarish process had worked. <\/span><\/p>\n<\/a><\/div>\n