My Writing Process

If there is one question I get asked frequently it's this: At exactly what point does a formal system become powerful enough for Gödel’s First Incompleteness Theorem to apply, and how would you rigorously demonstrate that threshold?

My answer is always same: I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm more of a Wikipedia guy.

Another question I get is: What is your writing process?

At this, I always smile and nod. So, you want to be a writer, I think to myself. You fool.

All writers employ some process to their craft. And make no mistake, you will need a process of your own. The good news is there are so many behaviors you can simply steal from other writers. After all, what is writing without stealing a few ideas? As a published author who has sold literally dozens of books, I feel qualified to offer my unique and highly personalized process that I culled from the ideas of other, more successful writers.

You might want to write this down.

I begin, as all serious writers do, by not writing.

First, I make coffee. Not just any coffee, though! This is artisanal, small-batch, ethically conflicted coffee, brewed in a device that looks like it could also detect alien life. While it drips, I stare out the window and think about themes. Not specific themes. Just themes in general. Big ones. Love. Death. The way the neighbor’s dog seems to judge me. I pour the coffee down the sink because I remember I don't drink coffee. After grabbing a Diet Coke and granola bar (healthy choices power the brain!), I head to my writing space.

I open my laptop and immediately check my email, because what if there’s something urgent? There is not. But there is a 20% off coupon for a place I’ve never heard of, which feels important to explore. I click through. Fifteen minutes pass. This is part of the process. I think about themes again. Open my journal and write things like:

• What is death?

• What is meaning?

• What is this spot on my neck?

• At exactly what point DOES a formal system become powerful enough for Gödel’s First Incompleteness Theorem to apply?

  
  

Now, finally, I open the document. I type a sentence. It’s bad. I delete it. I type another sentence. This one is worse, but in a more confident way. I keep it. Momentum is key.

At this point, I decide I need to understand my characters better. I create an entirely new document titled “Character Backstories (Definitive).” I spend forty minutes determining that my protagonist once owned a ferret named Carl who taught him the meaning of loss. I Google "best names for ferret" and "punny names for ferrets*." None of this will appear in the story, but essential nonetheless.

Back to the draft.

I reread the one sentence I kept. It no longer makes sense. I adjust a comma. Then another. Suddenly I’m deep in an internet forum about the Oxford comma. I become engrossed in a thread about them. Factions are formed. Lines are drawn. People call each other names like "elitist," "grammar fascist," "arrogant ass," and "dirty pooderhead." That was me. I called someone a dirty pooderhead. They had it coming and they know what they did.

Time for a break.

I walk around the house, narrating my life as if it’s already a bestselling novel. “He opened the refrigerator with the quiet desperation of a man who had already seen too much, knew too much, and argued too much about Oxford commas."

I return to the computer, invigorated. I write three more sentences. They are passable. Possibly even good. I don’t trust them. I save the document with a new name: “Draft_Final_v7_RealFinal.” Then I reward myself for a hard day’s work by doing absolutely anything else.

Tomorrow, I will begin again.

*The best names for ferrets are Ferret Fawcett (female) and Ferry Styles (male)