It's all cobblers

Creative encouragement for ADHD writers

Always good to get whatever’s bothering you off your chest first, right*? “Advice” like that just raises my hackles precisely because there’s some truth to it, and so there’s something I should be clear about upfront.

I’ve never finished writing the first draft of a book.

(I mean, in a similar vein apparently I started this Substack in January 2022 but I digress, already, jeez.)

Writing for a living was my dream long before I veered into a Masters and a job in publishing, almost by accident, before jumping to the other side of the desk. I vividly remember burning my ‘stories’ I’d written in primary school, when I had my post-Leaving Certificate bonfire. Even then, imposter syndrome loomed large.

There are so many folders of half-written projects in my office it’s bordering on being classed as a fire risk. For years I’ve been in critique groups and beta-read other people’s manuscripts. In the years since getting a diagnosis myself, I’ve moved into helping writers with ADHD to get their words done. All the time - ok, most of that time - still writing, still starting projects.

Most of my friends are writers. I’ve had encouragement and support, been privileged to do all kinds of further education, and have new ideas doing zoomies in my brain every night, the instant I close my eyes to go to sleep. And yet, no book, which is something that bothers me. All. The. Time. Even though nobody is out there eagerly awaiting a book from me. No deadlines. Nothing under contract. Zero commitment.

The reasons I’m where I am are complex and they’re partly to do with a lifetime of masking, confidence issues (anyone who knows me IRL and thinks I’m an extrovert, let me introduce you to the concept of “impulsivity”) and a million squillon other things.

Or, perhaps it’s really simple. This post hit hard. Wanting to be a writer versus actually writing feels horribly relevant. So what’s kept me stuck?

For starters, “ADHD I want to be amazing at this, or I’m not doing it” syndrome, a first cousin of Imposter Syndrome.

It took me a really long time - and I’m still processing - about how as a writer to move a book through its many stages. Even though I knew better, I still wanted the rough draft, the clay, the snippets and fragments, to come out well formed. Ok, perfect. Decent prose, emotional resonance, story progression. An actual fairytale in motion. Less of a cobbler painstakingly fixing something to make it functional, than a cordwainer creating artistry.

Yeah, that’s not how it works.

Well-meaning friends tell me that they couldn’t imagine starting without a detailed outline which is solid and respectable advice. For my brain, an outline means I’ve already told the story once, why on earth would I want to do that again.

Getting deep into writing - sometimes in that glorious rush of hyperfocus - is great fun but also strangely vertical: the word count goes up and builds the levels of possibility for the narrative exponentially but what I need is horizontal progression, to take the story from a premise and a world into a conclusion. “We started here, and this is where we ended up. Make of it what you will, it’s yours now.” I live for that feeling when the walls fall away and you’re so deeply immersed in your world, but it hasn’t resulted in something to share.

But I reckon I’m not alone. I think there are lots of other ND folk who really want to write a book but they’re stumbling somehow - getting it started, or getting it finished, confused by advice that tells them to write every day or produce three pages of longhand every morning, keep everything in their head or put every thought on to index cards, wing it or have it all figured out before they start (hint: nobody has it all figured out).

For me, accountability really helps, whether that’s telling someone what I’m going to do, or having someone sit with me while I finish that task.

So I wondered whether some people out there might need that too.

Because I can’t tell you the precise combination to unlock that book that’s inside your beautiful brain but I can share what I’m doing, as I try to do the same.

So, are you neurodivergent and wanting to write to The End?

Could we figure out how to do it together?

I’m going to update here weekly - well, that’s the plan - on where I am and I’m inviting anyone who’s interested to come along on the journey.

This is terrifying for me, by the way, because it’s such public accountability and also means there’s something else on my TO DO list which is “baring my soul and my failures to the world”. Except it doesn’t have to be a failure, by any measure. This sounds incredibly sappy but writing is balm for me and I’ll keep doing it even if nobody is reading. But if you are, and this hits, and you want to join in, then HURRAH!!!

Oh god. Really terrifying.

Comment below, or join me in Notes and cheer me on or tell me your own tiny writing goal for this week. (I’m clearly mining for dopamine, this is all new and exciting, and no I don’t quite understand how it works. Onwards!)

*Eat the frog type advice doesn’t work for ADHD brains. Here’s your permission slip to NOT screw up your day by starting it with something horrible. Unless that’s exercise, which is a whole other conversation.