ADHD & Writing: The Realities Of Being a Neurospicy Writer
- Bair Klos
- Apr 3
- 7 min read
ADHD & Writing: What It’s Like Being a Neurospicy Writer
If you’re a writer with ADHD (or any other flavor of neurospiciness), you know the rollercoaster: writing with ADHD is sometimes like trying to herd caffeinated cats in a thunderstorm—chaotic, unpredictable, often messy, but also wildly creative, deeply intuitive, and sometimes… shockingly brilliant. Ideas strike like lightning at 2AM, but your ability to finish that paragraph from yesterday? Vanished. You feel everything deeply, you get obsessed with characters that won’t leave you alone, and your desk is a chaotic graveyard of notebooks, pens, and half-finished story outlines. (Definitely not calling myself out here…)
If you're a neurospicy writer, you're not alone. As a person with ADHD, I've had first hand experience of being that writer who is a midnight idea hoarder, a chronic over-researcher, a “starts ten projects but finishes one” writer. I have felt the spectrum of abundant magic and absolute mayhem of being a neurodivergent writer. Before I ever knew I was neurodivergent, I often got frustrated at my lack of consistency with projects, constantly starting new ones, and feeling like there was something wrong with me…
Which is why I wanted to come on here today and talk about the realities of being a writer with ADHD—the highs, the lows, the creative superpowers, and the executive dysfunction dragons that we neurospicy writers battle on the daily.
Table Of Contents |
The Beautiful, Brilliant Chaos of the Neurospicy Brain
ADHD brains are wired differently, which means our creative process doesn’t always follow the traditional route. We often have vivid imaginations, emotional depth, and a wellspring of ideas that seem to appear out of nowhere. But we’re also battling executive dysfunction, time blindness, and the occasional inability to start—or stop—working.
Hyperfixation: A Superpower & An Arch-Nemesis
Hyperfixation can feel like being struck by creative lightning. Suddenly you’re writing 8,000 words in a single sitting, fully immersed in your world, typing like crazy like a rainstorm against a tin roof. It’s magical. It's enthralling. It's unstoppable. Until… it's not.
When hyperfixation fades, it can leave behind guilt, self-doubt, and a half-finished project. That doesn’t mean you’re lazy—it means your dopamine buffet ran out. The key thing I've learned is to ride the waves and pick up where I've left off with kindness (not shame), and incorporate some kind of awareness that I'm spending so many attention tokens. That way, when I reflect on my progress and analyze the pace I've been going at to see if it is sustainable, I don't get burned out. Which means some of you may have to get real with yourself about whether or not your word goal is actually manageable or not.
Executive Dysfunction & Time Blindness
Ahhh, executive dysfunction… The bane of my existence. The thing I struggle with the most in all aspects of my life, especially writing. It sucks. You want to write. You plan to write. You sit down to write. And yet… you’ve been staring at a blinking cursor for 45 minutes because your brain hit pause. Or better yet, to avoid the writing you know you should be doing, all the chores you've been putting off for three weeks, miraculously get done in two hours instead of five.
Executive dysfunction isn’t about laziness—it’s a neurological hiccup in task initiation. Paired with time blindness ("What do you mean it’s already 5AM and I've somehow pulled an all-nighter!?"), it can make deadlines feel impossible.
That's why you have to find what works for you. Find the systems that hack your biology, whether it's timers, body doubling, ambient noise, or micro-deadlines, they can all help bridge the gap between wanting to write and actually writing. Remember to be realistic and gentle with yourself—you’re building a system that works for your brain, not someone else’s.
Story Planning & the Pantser Life
Outlining? We barely know her. ADHD writers often lean into pantsing (discovery writing), thriving on spontaneity, emotional intuition, and surprise. While traditional plot structures may feel confining, creating loose scaffolding—like broad story beats or scene cards—can give your brain enough freedom to play without getting totally lost in the weeds.
Rejection Sensitivity & Sharing Your Work
Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria (RSD) is real—👋🏻 hi, I have it, it's a bitch—and brutal. The fear of judgment can make sharing your work with beta readers, critique partners, or even close friends feel like stepping off a cliff. You might second-guess every line, spiral from a single piece of feedback, or ghost your own writing group for weeks.
Validation helps, but so does practice. Start small. Share with someone safe. Remind yourself that feedback isn’t a referendum on your worth—it’s a tool for growth.
Neurodivergent Strengths in Worldbuilding
Your brain connects dots other people don’t even see. That makes you a phenomenal worldbuilder. ADHD writers often create immersive, intricate worlds full of depth and originality. Your curiosity, your capacity to deep-dive into research, your ability to link themes across seemingly unrelated topics—all of this makes your storytelling stand out.
But the strengths don’t stop at worldbuilding. ADHD writers also tend to write characters with incredible emotional nuance, tapping into empathy and sensitivity to craft stories that resonate deeply. Dialogue can feel sharper, more natural, more alive, because our minds are constantly observing, processing, and mimicking the way people actually speak.
We also excel at voice. Neurodivergent writers often have a distinctive narrative tone—quirky, sharp, poetic, or brutally honest—that makes their work feel original and memorable. Our brains may jump tracks faster than a speeding train, but that often results in unique metaphors, unusual connections, and surprising twists.
And let’s not forget: ADHD writers are masters of adaptation. We know how to pivot. If a scene stalls, we change it. If a new idea hits, we find a way to weave it in. Our flexibility is a gift, and our creativity refuses to be boxed in.
Lean into that. Build the worlds only you can build. Tell the stories only you can tell.
Editing, Burnout, & Project Hopping
Editing when the hyperfixation fades can feel like dragging yourself through mud. Suddenly the story isn’t shiny anymore, and a new idea—fresh, exciting, full of dopamine—is calling.
This doesn’t mean you’re flaky. It means your brain is chasing novelty because it’s low on stimulation. Try rotating projects, breaking edits into tiny chunks, or gamifying the revision process. Sometimes, just rereading your work can reignite that spark.
But also? It’s okay to take a break. Rest is part of the process too.
Too Many Ideas, Not Enough Time
ADHD writers are idea factories. You’re constantly bombarded by inspiration—shiny concepts, new characters, entire plots that arrive fully formed during your morning shower. But too many ideas can be paralyzing. You start five stories and finish none.
Try keeping a dedicated “idea graveyard” or a Notion doc full of cool-but-not-now ideas. This way, you’re not letting them go—you’re just saving them for later. When you find the one that won’t let you go, stick with it. Remind yourself that focus doesn’t mean killing creativity—it just means choosing one thread to follow at a time.
Writing at 2AM Because That’s When the Magic Hits
For many ADHD writers, the hours between 2 AM and 4 AM are when the stars align, and suddenly, you’re a literary genius. While this isn’t always practical for long-term sustainability (hi, sleep deprivation), don’t discount your body’s natural rhythm. If night writing works for you, lean into it—just be mindful of burnout.
If you can’t write during traditional hours, carve out your own sacred time. Creativity isn’t a 9-5 job.
You’re Not Broken—You’re Just Built Differently
Here’s the thing: neurodivergent writers don’t need to be “fixed.” You’re not behind. You’re not doing it wrong. You’re navigating a creative process that wasn’t designed with your brain in mind—and yet, here you are, still writing. Still dreaming. Still telling stories. Go you!
The way you think, feel, and create is valid. The magic is real—even if it doesn’t always look like other people’s magic.
Concluding Thoughts: Embrace the Chaos, Honor the Magic
Being a neurospicy writer comes with its own special brand of highs and lows—but if there’s one truth I hope you walk away with, it’s this: you are not alone, and your creative process is valid. You may write out of order, skip drafts, forget to eat while hyperfocusing, or cry over line edits—and still, you are a writer.
You deserve grace, flexibility, and creative joy. Build systems that support your unique brain, and don’t let the traditional rules of writing shame you into thinking you’re doing it wrong. You’re not. You’re doing it your way, and that is freaking awesome.
“The word creativity is closely linked to the word genius, since both words have the root meaning ‘to give birth.’ Essentially, creativity designates the capacity to give birth to new ways of looking at things.” — Thomas Armstrong, Awakening Genius in the Classroom.
Happy writing!
—Bair✍︎
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