Often I am asked—as all writers are asked—what is my process.

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I think we all want published writers to give us their secret to success.

First of all, to preface this. Yes, I do get writers block. No, I don’t write every day. Yes, there are periods, sometimes months and months, when I don’t write at all. I never ever recommend this. Writers who don’t write are unhappy people.

I am going to admit here that upon publishing my sixth novel, I still don’t have a regimented process. I still feel panicked before I sit down to write. Sometimes, I think I will never write another book again and feel awful. Eventually, I get back to work. I find a way that works for me and for a little while I am happy. And then circumstances changes and I have to come up with a brand new way to work.

I thought I might share how Hot Air came to be written and how I am now working on a new novel and how very different these experiences are.

There are periods, sometimes months and months, when I don’t write at all. I never ever recommend this. Writers who don’t write are unhappy people.

Hot Air began with a short story. I read a wonderful newsletter called Emily Writes Back and in one of her emails, Emily offered writers prompts. It may seem random, and it is random, but she had a writers prompt that said something like: “have an air balloon come crashing down on a first date.” I hadn’t been writing for several months when I came across this prompt and it somehow clicked in my brain.  I wrote a short story. It was titled “First Date.” This story was rejected by the New Yorker. For the record, all of my short stories have been rejected by the New Yorker.

A year later, I was invited to come write in a friend’s house. Two, sometimes three days a week, a small group of writers came to her house. We wrote in the morning and then we ordered lunch. It was so fun. We often ordered sushi lunch specials from a Japanese restaurant and I put that Japanese restaurant in Hot Air.  For the record, I am going to say that sushi lunch specials might help you write your novel. Maybe writing is a reward in itself, but sushi after writing is good too. As is coffee and chocolate.

Writers, please remember to reward yourself.

I wrote most of a first draft of Hot Air with this lovely writers group. Because I had do something until we ordered the sushi, and so with time to kill, I made myself write.

Then summer came around. The writing in a wonderful house with lovely writers came to an end. Summer vacation. Kids without daycare. Somehow in the fall, our group did not resume. Once again, I had to get a new process.

There is always a new process. Believe this.

In my case, a woman I sometimes played tennis with contacted me because her husband was looking for an accountability partner. Would I be interested? Um. Would I?

I didn’t know him; this was like a writers blind date. But because writing is still hard for me, I said yes. I didn’t meet the husband of my tennis friend in person. Instead, we had a phone call and he shared with me his process.  Agree on a time early in the morning, and then every day, at this time, text each other, say good morning, and then write for half an hour. After half an hour, send a brief text. How are you doing? Keep going? Yes? No? And we would do this for a couple of hours. I almost always signed off first. I don’t really write for a long time.

This worked too. It was amazingly great even. To be accountable, to write every day, to get the writing done first thing in the morning. This worked for about three months, and then, it didn’t. There were too many mornings where I had to do other things: take my cat to the vet, take my mother to the doctor, swim laps.  I would wake up and not be able to write and also not want to admit to it. So when my accountability partner texted Ready, I would text back, Yes, ready!

You don’t actually have to tell anybody your process like I am doing here, but if it’s a little strange and unstructured, you are not alone.

When that began to feel silly, I bowed out. I went back to being a cafe writer. I had written all of Very Nice in cafes. But something has changed over the years. Music at cafes has gotten so loud. I can no longer block it out with my noise cancelling headphones. I am no longer a café writer.

And then once, and yes this is crazy, I got an idea, at night, while taking a bath, and so I wrote for a couple of hours AT NIGHT, after my daughter went to sleep. I never write at night, but for a short period of time, that is what I did.

I am writing this essay in the small restaurant inside of Watchung Booksellers on a Sunday morning. Once a week, writers can pay ten dollars and sit in this empty restaurant and work. Honestly, I started coming because I have a friend who writes then. After, we go out for coffee. This morning, I left my house, tired, hair tangled, unhappy. And then, I wrote this essay and then went with my friend for coffee.

My message to anyone who has read to the end of this essay: Please be kind to yourself. Know that works one day, will not work the next. Don’t punish yourself. Have accountability partners, sign up for Jami Attenberg’s 1000 Word marathons, share your writing with your friends, take your computer to cafes. Write at your kitchen table or sitting on your living room couch if that is the room where your cats are sleeping. Mainly, be kind to yourself.  You don’t actually have to tell anybody your process like I am doing here, but if it’s a little strange and unstructured, you are not alone.

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Hot Air by Marcy Dermansky is available from Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House, LLC.