I find there is a difference between creative and other kinds of writing, like short run opinion pieces for the press. In the latter, by keeping to a regular timetable, you can be quite productive without making too many silly mistakes. Over the years on this basis, I’ve managed to write well close to a million words, some under my name, others not.

The final product would involve a revision of the first draft but without too much agonising – except on special occasions – about stylistic niceties. When we all still worked with typewriters to churn out copy, I would usually type straight onto the page, make some changes to the text by hand and send it immediately to the editor for publication. The personal computer has provided a greater opportunity to be finicky about the end product but I’m not convinced that the quality of the final text of my opinion pieces at least, improved much as a result.

Creative writing is a different ball game (and perhaps I should add to it, thesis writing). Basically it’s a question of content. In my view, you must have a good story first and you must be convinced it’s good. After that, you must decide how to write it, which is a hard, complex decision. Then you must set out with the project, that is actually writing it. (I’m using the second personal singular when I mean the first person.) Here comes the most difficult moment: launching the writing project. You doodle with one or two openings, but then must proceed.

In my experience, it’s counterproductive to waste time waiting for inspiration. When the basic decisions about theme and method have been taken, when one is convinced that the story makes sense from a potential reader’s point of view, then one must launch the writing part of the project. And arrange to follow up by writing regularly and constantly.

Giving way to the temptation to rearrange over and over again an unfinished draft, or tackling writer’s block by going for a short holiday (which turns out to be longer than planned), are not good ideas. One must just plough through, even writing gibberish for a while, till a flow of acceptable writing re-emerges. Later on, one can cut or correct the gibberish or rewrite it... when the first draft of the text has been finalised. Any other way of operating will quite likely leave one with an unfinished project.

However, when the writing flow is well established, what could also happen is that the characters and situations take over and threaten to change or subvert the “plot”/story line that is explicit or implicit in the project. The decision one has to face here is whether to assert the God-like faculty of insisting on going through with the project as originally scheduled, or to let the characters and situations do their own thing. If one really believes in the project the decision is obvious, even if it will create writing complications for the rest of the work. One chooses the second option. Again, I’m using the third (im)personal singular here, when I should be meaning the first person.

As the first draft builds up, I find it important to pace the writing flow on a mechanical basis, by checking out how many words are being written per week, per month, often per day. I used to think this too mechanical and was a bit ashamed of it but now realise it’s a standard procedure followed by most writers. It helps to benchmark what you’re doing and to structure your first draft in ways that might lead to a good balance between the different parts of the project.

The best moment comes when the first draft is finished. You know that there’s lots more effort to go till the end, but the basic platform for the work at hand is now there. In my case, the system is to write everything again through a second and then a third final draft. It used to be much clearer in the days of the typewriter, for you had the physical paper output that showed three separate drafts. The computer makes it easy to blur drafts. So I keep the original text on a separate file and start correcting it through a saved copy which becomes the second draft. It is not such a satisfactory procedure, especially when you come to the third draft. However, to be fair, the computer can keep up with one’s ideas much quicker than the typewriter could, even with very fast touch typing.

At some stage, one must decide that the job is over. For it is possible to go on correcting and changing, especially at third draft level. The decision comes easier when over the horizon, one can see a new writing project approaching. Still, as you face the printed page that features the project, now well and truly completed, two big worries onload. First it is clear that here, there and everywhere, words and sentences could have been better chosen, or put into a better sequence. That realisation is mortifying. Secondly, the worry is that after all, the story or whatever that the project has delivered, is not as entertaining as you thought it would be when writing it.

You have to learn to live with these worries even while planning a new project. (... now why have I mashed the pronominal substantives so much in the preceding text? – I really don’t know but will leave the script the way it is.)