How I Write: Notes, Fountain Pens, and Letting It Rip

I don’t sit down with an outline or a master plan. Usually, I sit down with a cup of coffee, a clear head, and no idea what I’m going to write about.

My day starts with a little exercise and some reading. I’m more of a physical person than a write-a-thousand-words-before-breakfast person. After lunch, I’ll put in a couple of hours. My goal is four vignettes a day, five days a week. I usually get there.

Sometimes a story takes off and keeps going—like the one I called “Bowling Alley Upstairs,” about living beneath wooden floors and the small children who seemed to be running a bowling alley above me. When that happens, I follow the arc until it’s time to stop.

The stories often start in one of my notebooks. I use unlined journals, which suit me perfectly. I don’t want a lot of structure on the page. I write with fountain pens because I like the sound and feel of them. You hear the pen, you feel it move, and see the words appear.

Writing becomes something tangible.

I keep notes about all kinds of things: a place from my childhood nobody can remember, a difficult moment from work, a repair in an old building. Some are organized under headings; others are just things I want to remember. Later, I type them into the computer and see where they might go.

Reading is part of that process. I mark passages with tabs, then sometimes spend a day or a weekend collecting quotes and ideas on the computer. I ask myself: Is this relevant? Can I use it? Is there something here I can build on?

I don’t always know what a passage will become. Sometimes a detail in a book—a stubborn outboard motor, say—gets me thinking about a machine with a personality of its own. That’s a story waiting to happen.

I write vignettes, not novels, and I like the freedom that gives me. I can start with a memory, follow it, and let it be as short or long as it needs to be. The shape often shows itself as I go.

Writing about my life wasn’t always the plan. A friend once pointed out that not many finance guys have also spent years painting, hanging sheetrock, and renovating buildings. That made me think there might be a story worth telling.

After my stroke, I started to feel as if I were playing with house money. I wanted to make the most of the time I have—to keep working, to be creative, and to have fun with the writing.

I’m fortunate to have an editor who asks the deeper questions. I try to answer them honestly, but I also want the humor in there. Life can be both difficult and funny at the same time. I hope the stories make readers laugh, think, or recognize something of themselves—and that one day my kids might read them and say, “That was Dad.”