Today’s guest post is by author and freelance editor Sarah Chauncey.
If you were to pick an animal that represents the ADHD brain, you might think of squirrels, continually darting their eyes to assess any change in their environment. Or puppies, with their boundless energy, always chasing a new ball and looking for a new human hand to offer pets.
You probably wouldn’t think of lions, those kings and queens of the savannah, yet lions have many things in common with ADHDers. This connection might point to the role played by those with neurodivergent brains in ancient hunter-gatherer tribes, but I digress (did I mention I’m AuDHD?).
While every brain is as unique as a fingerprint, here are some features common to both ADHD writers and lions:
- Lions may appear to be surveying their territory, but they actually take in the entire landscape at once. Similarly, ADHD brains perceive systems holistically, rather than the predictive processing of neurotypical brains.
- Once lions notice something that interests them, they lock in and hyperfocus. The ADHD brain, too, locks in on a particular topic and hyperfocuses on a project or idea.
- Lions are fast: They can run 50mph (81kph). ADHD brains also work superfast, especially when we’re in hyperfocus mode.
- Lions rest up to 20 hours a day. This way, they conserve energy for the next burst. Similarly, ADHD brains need rest after a hyperfocus burst.
- Lions don’t move through the world in straight lines. Whether following the escape path of their prey or strolling the grassland, their movement is nonlinear. So are ADHD brains.
ADHDers, of course, aren’t apex predators, and lions don’t write books. While the metaphor is far from perfect, many of us are on hunts of our own: finishing the manuscript, self-publishing or securing an agent and being signed to a trade book deal, getting excellent reviews, winning awards, having a streaming series based on our book, accepting the Emmy…
But first, we have to finish the thing.
We get tripped up in writing, because in this cultural moment, the majority of books geared toward a broad audience, published by a trade publisher, are linear stories, maybe with dual timelines or flashbacks, but not experimentally nonlinear. Nonlinear storytelling is absolutely possible as an advanced technique, but that’s not what I’m talking about here.
Over the past 18 years as a developmental editor and writing coach, I’ve noticed certain patterns among my clients with ADHD.
Why neurotypical writing advice doesn’t always land for ADHDers
Our culture is designed around neurotypical (NT) norms, which are linear, often repetition-based, and confusing to ADHDers. The most common advice for NTs is to sit down, day after day, and consistently produce a certain number of words, even if the writing is crappy. That doesn’t work for most ADHD brains.
We’re designed for cyclical output (hyperfocus/rest), not the slow-and-steady approach commonly advised. Many of us also have very low frustration tolerance; if we sit in a chair and can’t write, we’re likely to get annoyed and frustrated, which further blocks our ability to write.
When ADHD writers don’t honor their nonlinear writing process, it can result in a scattered manuscript that doesn’t tell one clear story; it’s hard for readers, both neurotypical and neurodivergent, to follow. As readers, most of us—regardless of neurotype—want to read fast-paced, tight writing.
The challenge for many ADHD writers is how to take nonlinear perception and create a linear(ish) story.
Seeing the whole savannah
The ADHD brain perceives systems the way a lion perceives the savannah: everything, everywhere, all at once. Most of this is subconscious.
Not every detail we notice is going to belong in our books. Over the past two decades, I’ve noticed that ADHD writers come up with exceptional specificity, which is a significant writing strength. Sometimes there’s too much specificity, though, or too much detail.
This results in scenes and chapters where the reader can’t understand the hierarchy of what’s important, because the author isn’t clear about what’s most important. Sentences, paragraphs and scenes run longer than necessary (what editors call “loose” writing), which slows the pace to a crawl and can lead to reader boredom.
Stay in the flow by using bursts
Like lions, when ADHD brains notice something that piques our interest, we mentally latch onto it, often for days, weeks or longer. When we’re in flow, we can write thousands of words a day. Our theme song is Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now.” We lock in and GO.
Flow feels amazing, yet the volume and velocity of ideas can be a challenge for ADHD writers, especially when words come faster than we can write or type. I often recommend dictation for clients with ADHD, and I sometimes use it myself.
Integration, rest and replenishment
Just as a lion needs to rest after a hunt, ADHD writers need to rest and replenish after a hyperfocus burst. This isn’t laziness. We live in a culture that devalues rest, yet consider:
- Muscles grow during the rest following a workout, not when we’re lifting weights.
- The brain consolidates and integrates what it has learned during sleep, not while sitting in the classroom.
- During rest, body and mind can replenish for the next hyperfocus sprint. If you’d like to dive deeper, I’ve written about the benefit of intentional breaks for writers.
Without sufficient rest, our writing become more puppy than lion: the narrative leaps all over the place, the voice becomes inconsistent, and the reader gets tangled up in the story.
Coming into stillness
Writers with ADHD brains need to ground before we begin writing. That doesn’t necessarily mean rest or sleep. More often, I ask clients what brings them a sense of mental quietude. Again, this will look different for each person, because every brain is different, and each of us has different preferences. Here are some that work for my clients (and me):
- Meditation
- Spending time in nature
- Going for a walk
- Playing with a dog, cat or other animal (no lions, please)
In a busy world, carving out even a few minutes to meditate or go for a short walk can yield great benefits in writing. The important thing is to get offline completely.
If possible, find something that gives you a sense of awe and wonder. Awe quiets the mind, and a quiet(er) mind lets you hear your own creative ideas.
Even if you only have, say, 30 minutes before you pick up the kids from school, use the first 10 minutes to allow your mind and body to settle. You’ll write more in the remaining 20 minutes than if you force yourself to sit for 30.
Listen to your inner rhythms
Although 50mph is fast, lions’ prey, like gazelles and wildebeests, are equally fast if not faster. In addition, lions’ daytime vision isn’t as strong as their vision at dawn and dusk. Add in the brutal heat of the midday savannah, that gazelles are more alert during the day, and it makes more sense for lions to hunt in the cooler hours when prey is sleeping.
We, too, have to be selective about when we focus. If we’re exhausted, or pushing ourselves because someone else told us we have to, we’re less likely to slide into a flow state. The exception, of course, are deadlines. As I often say: Can’t stand ’em, can’t finish anything without ’em.
Like lions, ADHD brains have enormous power. Speaking from experience, it’s easy for that power to become scattered, leading to endless drafts and having trouble seeing which parts of the story are essential. This leads to lack of response from agents or, for self-publishers, readers not finishing the book.
Although I firmly believe that divergent brains are a feature of our species, not a bug, the current writing and publishing paradigms can make us feel like we’re not doing it right. By learning to embrace the nonlinear nature of the ADHD brain, you can learn to write with more ease and less frustration.
Sarah Chauncey is a contributor to Writers Digest, a developmental editor and writing coach, as well as the author of P.S. I Love You More Than Tuna. She helps clients bring their best book forward using a variety of storytelling techniques from 30+ years of experience in fiction, nonfiction, screenwriting, theatre and corporate storytelling for companies including NASA and Intel.
Excellent article. I was only diagnosed – by the UK’s National Health Service, who will very kindly pay for the ADHD meds until I die – in my fifties/recently. The only thing omitted here, I think, is music. I’m unusually musical, having played in most of London’s orchestras as a professional cellist, and have learned since my diagnosis that classical music (and even brown noise) is hugely beneficial for ADHDers.
In other words, I was self-medicating, by playing cello, for decades before my ADHD diagnosis. I remember one trip to the beach with my family, as a teen, when I felt that I simply couldn’t cope without my cello… and even now, I find it very hard to write my novels without music in the background (baroque is best, though brown noise is better than nothing). Hope this is helpful to some fellow authors with ADHD! AM
Meanwhile, I’m the exact opposite! I love music but I cannot do auditory stimulation during writing time. I can do brown noise specifically, a fan, or nothing. Music inherently distracts me (though it can help set the mood for a scene ahead of time). It’s so fascinating how our brains can function so similarly and yet so differently!
Taylor, I’m the same. I love music and totally agree about the vibe, but it’s too distracting (even classical) when I’m writing. I use Brain Sync brainwave sounds (ocean waves calibrated to different frequencies), and that helps.
Thanks, Alice! It sounds like music gave you the ability to focus, or dopamine hits, that you didn’t have, which is an adaptive skill. Many neurodivergent people self-medicate, but often (speaking for myself) not as skillfully.
I don’t know about skillfully, but I’ve very often put down my cello thinking of something entirely unrelated, as if something literary has been released by the music.
“The challenge for many ADHD writers is how to take nonlinear perception and create a linear(ish) story.” So true. Evidenced by the sheer number of asides in my notes when I’m plotting, the constant digressions to develop a thread I just thought of while plotting another… I will literally write a whole other book before I finish the one I’m working on.
Same here, Camilla! I sense that’s from the nonlinear nature of our brains. NTs write one story, then another, while we might write three at once. It’s a different way of working, but (IME) it only becomes frustrating if we hold ourselves to NT norms. At the end, we still have three (or more) stories!
Totally get this. You’ve described all the systems I’ve put into place for myself, all the “rules” I break.
I’m glad this spoke to you, Lea, and I’m not surprised it overlaps with how you’ve adapted organically.
Excellent analogy! So true, too. I like the idea of grounding before writing. Similarly I have to clear my writing desk of clutter, yesterday’s notes, empty tea cups, etc. before I can concentrate. It’s like prep work.
I’ve gotten in the habit of going upstairs to my room shortly after breakfast and checking my email, and it has paid off. I usually can’t wait to get up there.
Hi Linda, that sounds like you’ve got some great ways of working with your brain and getting it ‘prepped’ to write!
Instinct made me read your article, Sarah, and I’m so so glad I did! My 2-3 decades of developmental editing experiences suddenly make more sense — I assigned no brain-types to my authors, but have learned that each person experiences their own unique obstacles and fast lanes when creating. It’s really fascinating to me, always has been, but you just put it squarely into a factual reality.
Recently, I discovered that my three oldest friends are ADHD — makes me wonder if I should be tested, eh?
I will say that my favorite story to edit is one where the author has allowed themselves to explore some of the side-line threads that can be a bear to write, but a blessing to read.
Thanks for this wonderful piece and for sharing it! The discovery is my Easter egg discovery, eh? :O))
Thank you, Maria! (And Happy Belated Easter–glad to be the egg you found 🙂 ) No two brains are identical, and I’m not trying to pigeonhole writers by any means. Because I’m “out” about my neurodivergence, I have many clients self-disclose to me, and I started to see these patterns. Your friends sound awesome! It can be helpful (and a relief) to understand why we are the way we are, but that decision is for each individual to make.
THANK YOU so much for this article! If I could, I’d hug you. At 48, I’ve finally been diagnosed with ADHD. Growing up in the southern part of the US, I was constantly told to “behave” and to act “like a lady” — meaning sit down, don’t move, and, above all, be quiet. Your article perfectly describes how I’ve felt, but never been able to articulate, about the world around me. It also paints a great picture as to why my writing can be sporadic. It feels wonderful to know 1) I am not alone, and 2) I can turn this into an advantage instead of a weakness.
Thank you right back! I was identified as ADHD in my 40s, and although I grew up in a different region, I can relate to many of the challenges you describe. You can absolutely turn this into a strength!
this is an interesting read. I’m looking forward to your class to dig in deeper. I know I can write, I just really take an inefficient bursty circuitous approach.
Thank you, Lauri. I find that when I honor my nonlinear creativity, I can write more once I do sit down, and it often requires less revision (still lots, but less) than if I’d forced myself to sit at a computer for several hours.
Thank you for this fun article . . . fun to have the lion analogy. I like how it flowed which made it easy to read. I appreciate the information. By the way, I did play with a lion cub in my childhood! My mother had a cub as a mascot for the bar she owned!
I’m glad it spoke to you, Marlene. And WOW, playing with a lion cub sounds so cool!