I’ve been thinking a lot recently about how ADHD (attention deficit hyperactivity disorder) affects me and my writing. After having been formally diagnosed in November at the tender age of [redacted] I’ve felt like a missing part of me has slotted into place. Of course, everyone has some struggles with organisation, but for me it’s like my brain has a bunch of locked doors in it that I have to break down before I can even begin a task. And as soon as I get through one, it closes behind me and I forget the very reason I needed access. Fun, right?
Pretty much everyone with neurodiversity (or sparkly edges, as we call them in our household) has extra struggles. Some of those are intrinsic to us, but others make life artificially harder because of societal and capitalistic pressures - does anyone really need to sit still in a three-hour meeting that should have been an email? And as I’ve examined myself and my behaviours more closely, I’ve realised that almost unthinkingly I’ve surrounded myself with people who relate to those sparkly edges - either through their own struggles, or by having people close to them who have a multitude of sparkles. And meeting new people is such fun when you realise you’ve hit fifteen different topics in half an hour, and haven’t even exchanged names yet. It’s also perhaps not surprising that many of those with a neurodiversity gravitate toward creative outlets: a space where individualistic tendencies are celebrated rather than smothered.
Looking at the world differently is, arguably, an advantage when it comes to writing fantasy. It’s easy to see the injustice that weighs heavily in our own world, and convert this to tensions and changes in an alternate plane. Ideas flow freely for me, and jotting down half formed thoughts often build into entire stories overnight. Sometimes literally - I’ve written before about my tendency to have very vivid dreams, and there’s no doubt that the tensions in those nightmares spill onto the page. But all those thousands of ideas have to be tamed eventually: pulled into plotlines and character growth; written in a coherent flow that draws in readers; plotholes to be isolated and filled in with the same building materials as the rest of the tale.
For me the hardest part is actually carving out the time to write when my headspace suits the temperament needed. I often prefer writing when I first awaken - but with two young kids bouncing around and having to get them ready for the day, it’s rare that I’m able to take advantage of the early hours (and please don’t suggest getting up before them, they’re already up around 5am, particularly unaligned with my preferred hours!). One dear friend jokingly suggested that I could pull a Doris Lessing and leave them behind entirely, but I love them and my life with them far too much to ever consider it. Nonetheless, when I’m in one of my beloved hyperfocus moments, in full flow of writing, only to have my youngest climb onto my lap and start hitting the keyboard at random - or as he bills it, working - I do wish there was a way to tame my own mind, and teach it that it should work at the times I need it to, rather than at random intervals.
Guilt, for me, is a key element of my ADHD. Guilt strikes as frequently as inspiration: when I steal away to write when the boys are at home; when I waste hours down a particularly fascinating rabbithole of information rather than getting words on the page; when I decide to redecorate the bathroom instead of finishing off those interminable edits. I’ve done a lot of work on myself since my diagnosis to embrace the good in ADHD: the big-picture thinking, creativity, and random pieces of knowledge that make writing so enjoyable for me. But still, I can’t help wondering what it would be like to not have to battle my own mind every single day. Would I still have those creative edges, or would my work be bland and flat? Or would I have never come to the literary world at all?
If you’re interested in learning more about ADHD in adults, there’s some introductory information on this website. If you think you might have ADHD I’ve found Extra Focus particularly helpful for hints and tips, and I recommend the book How to Keep House While Drowning for an attempt to reset negative thinking around organisational matters.
This has long been a problem for me as well, and though I don't have children (yet?) Life begins for me at 6am sharp. The guilt is especially relatable. The contents vary, but inevitably something close to, "Is writing really the most important thing I could be doing when I haven't talked to my parents in a week or finished grading my student's papers?" is always going through my mind. It never feels like there's a good time,- or even a not-so-great time to write.
All of which to say, thank you for sharing. It's nice to know other people struggle with this too.
On a separate and perhaps somewhat private note, are you medicated for ADHD, and if so, do you find it helpful to your process? (No need to respond if that is too personal a question).