People who become lifelong writers are aware of the rituals that help them move ideas in their heads to words on the page. The gap between forming ideas and starting the writing process—drafting, revising, and editing—can be overwhelming. Getting into the right frame of mind helps students write well and enjoy the experience.

Let’s first establish what composing means. Composing is the process of externalizing ideas that are inside our heads. While my focus is writing, composition can take many forms. For example, I compose holiday table centerpieces, the design of my native garden, or the line I ski down a bump run at Mammoth.

Of course, the rituals I use before writing an essay are different from those I use before skiing Dave’s Run. For big pieces, my writing rituals might take days as I refine my ideas before starting the rough draft. On the other hand, when I ski a black diamond, my composing process takes seconds. I arrive at the top of the slope, decide where my first 3 or 4 turns will be, point my skis down the slope, and go. If I linger too long, I psyche myself out and become tentative.

Even though skiing and writing are different, my brain is doing the same thing regardless of the end result. I’m demonstrating an idea that’s inside my head by externalizing it in a finished piece of writing, or getting down a ski run without a wipeout. In both cases, my personal rituals help me execute my plan and enjoy the process.

In The Creative Habit, Twyla Tharp says, “rituals of preparation…arm us with confidence and self-reliance.” That’s powerful. Over the years, I’ve noticed that confident kids are more likely to write well because they take risks and try new ways of writing. Self-reliant kids are more likely to begin writing without waiting for me to nudge them along. Students who initiate their own writing often become adults who continue writing for a lifetime.

One of the best ways I can help kids grow confidence and self-reliance is by helping them become aware of rituals that support their composition process. That means I need to be transparent about my writing process so they can see what it looks like with their own eyes.

Before I give you a glimpse of my writing rituals, I want to mention two important ideas. First, everyone’s writing rituals are unique. I’m sharing what works for me, but I am not suggesting that my rituals are the right way for you. Second, don’t get hyper-focused about your rituals. At some point, you need to get words on the page. As Twyla Tharp says, “It’s better to be ready to go than to wait until you are perfectly ready.”

As you will see, I chose to represent my process graphically instead of using a list or paragraphs. Since the real significance of many of my writing rituals aren’t obvious, it felt appropriate to do a visual representation of what’s usually invisible.

For example, one of my rituals is washing dishes before I settle down to write. To the casual observer (sometimes myself included!), it might look like I’m just washing dishes. However, doing a regular task that can be accomplished while I’m on autopilot gives my mind an opportunity to wander, ponder, and sort through the ideas in my piece. I’m standing instead of sitting. My hands are moving and immersed in hot water instead of clicking away at a keyboard. Change of location and activity helps.

Rearranging knick-knacks on my desk is another example of a ritual that has nothing to do with writing, but helps me get started. It’s a way to feel neat and organized during the early stages of writing which are usually chaotic. In addition, a neat desk is a cue that reminds me I’m about to settle down and write.

As you review my composition process, I hope it inspires you to think about the rituals that help you with your creative projects.

Since we’re talking about our composing process, I thought it might be helpful to see the rough draft sketch that led to the image you see above. Note that the rough draft doesn’t include a step about reading my piece aloud (which is #10 in the graphic above). It’s a ritual that helps me hear the rhythm of my writing. By reading my writing aloud (to no audience—it’s just me), the piece tells me where it needs revision and editing whenever I stumble over words.

I find it interesting that one of my most essential routines didn’t even make it into the original draft, but that’s what happens when our minds are doing high level thinking. We leave out important details because our brains are working overtime. That’s why multiple drafts and washing dishes are an important part of my composing process.

As teachers, I think it’s essential to show students what our composing process looks like. Final drafts are great, but the early drafts are what really make an impact. It shows kids that writing is a messy activity and that’s ok. It’s part of the process. It’s not a bad thing. It’s what leads to better writing. Here is an example of my handwritten edits on an early version of this blog post.

And here is an example of my daughter’s edits (plus my scribbly notes) when I asked her for feedback.

Oh, I love messy early drafts. I love scribbling all over them. I love it when I’m surprised by clear thinking that grows out of chaos. I love it when I show drafts to students and their eyes get wide. “Oh, that’s what a rough draft looks like!”

So what’s your composing process?

I’m curious. Have you ever been asked that question? So often, teachers don’t address how students enter into and sustain the writing process.

To answer this question for yourself, I encourage you to think about a type of creative expression you enjoy and do well. What are the rituals you follow before and during the activity? Would your experience be different if you didn’t have any rituals?

Then, observe your kids. Notice what they do before playing in a soccer game, baking cupcakes, or building a Lego creation. Often, without anyone’s prompting, you’ll notice they are following preferred rituals that help them enjoy their creative experiences.

I wish it would be natural to have a parent/child conversation that goes something like, “It seems like you are proud of your story. Why? What did you do to make the process work for you? Did you have enough time? Do you have a favorite writing spot in our house? A favorite pen? Let’s remember this for your next writing piece, too.”

Or, even when writing doesn’t go well, you could still make it into a learning opportunity by saying, “It seems like you did not enjoy writing this story. Why? What didn’t work for you? Did you run out of time? Where and when were you writing? For next time, let’s change things up a bit. What do you think would make the writing experience better for you?”

Maybe in an ideal world, but conversations like that don’t usually happen between parents and kids. They just want us to enjoy their creations without dissecting how they were made. I know if I had talked like that to my daughter, she would have run for the hills.

However, it is a conversation that classroom teachers should be having with their students.

You might think young kids don’t have the ability to do such high level thinking. Some might not, but exposing them to the concept of paying attention to their composing process primes the pump for when they are ready.

The best way for you to help your kids discover their personal composing process is by sharing yours. Don’t make it into an event, but just share the rituals that work for you when you’re doing something creative and the energy in the room feels right. We all know kids are sponges and hopefully your example will inspire them to consider the rituals that might work for them in the future.

I hope you and your children enjoy discovering writing rituals that help all of you get words on the page. I think it’s an essential part of becoming a lifelong writer. Rituals help your creations soar. That’s something to celebrate when you decide your piece is finished and ready for the world to read.