The ADHD plot twist: making sense of ADHD as a writer

This is something of a confession. Something I’ve never shared publicly. I’ve hesitated to say it even privately. Slightly embarrassed, I suppose. 

However, having gone on a bit of a journey with this, it feels like a good time to write about it. 

This time last year, I got diagnosed with ADHD. I know. It sometimes seems that everyone is getting a diagnosis. 

Mine came after one of my children got a diagnosis (both now have one). 

This post is for anyone, writer or otherwise working in this industry, who’s also neurodivergent, or anyone who’s ever felt like their brain doesn’t quite follow the usual rules.

The shock diagnosis I never expected

The ADHD was a complete surprise. At least to me. I’d never considered it before. But when one of my children was diagnosed, my wife encouraged me to get assessed too.

Being honest, I resisted. I pushed back hard. That’s classic behaviour.

Eventually, after weeks of denial, I took an online test and booked an appointment. Got the diagnosis.

It all made sense.

Looking back: the signs I missed

There were signs, of course. I struggled to focus from school onwards. I was the kid who messed around, the daydreamer. Countless detentions. But I still managed to make it through school and university, and I procrastinated endlessly, putting things off and learning to wing it.

That mostly worked. Until it didn’t.

I worked as a journalist, which suited me. Fast-paced deadlines, constant pressure, perfect. But I struggled with organisation, time management, and staying on track.

Despite that, I wrote a novel in college. Then two more in my twenties. One nearly got published. I had agents. But looking back now, I’m not sure how I did it. I was all over the place.

In relationships, I was impulsive and repetitive, jumping into things, then losing interest when the initial rush wore off. I was constantly seeking the rush of endorphins. I just didn't know it.

In day-to-day life, I constantly put things off. Holidays, packing, and admin — all last minute. Still, I coped because I could focus when it mattered.

But things changed. I got older. I had a family. And suddenly, there was just so much more to do. Like so much. More people, more plates to spin. That’s when I started to really notice it. That something wasn’t just hard; it was much harder than it should be.

What changed after the diagnosis

The diagnosis came. But acceptance took time. I wasn’t sure how to feel. Neurodivergence felt like a label I wasn’t ready for.

But slowly, I got there. Eight months on, I’ve made peace with it. I started taking medication, too, cautiously, working up from a low dose. Higher doses felt like speed. But once I found the right level, I could focus more easily, especially on things I usually avoided.

I was curious about how it would affect my writing. It didn’t harm it. It helped. I could see my work more clearly. It made editing my latest work-in-progress feel possible.

I also started taking TikTok seriously, and started this blog. The name (Tangled Prose) came from an insight into my writing and how my mind works. It is a tangle of prose.  

How it affects my writing

I’m a work in progress, just like my novel. But I’ve realised this: ADHD doesn’t stop you from writing. In some ways, it’s part of what makes you a writer.

ADHD can be a superpower. It gives you hyperfocus when something really excites you. I’ve taken two weeks off work just to write for nine hours a day. I used to write entire chapters on the tube, totally oblivious to the noise and chaos around me. That’s the upside.

But there are challenges:

• Distraction: Doomscrolling is the enemy. I have to fight hard to avoid it.

• Planning: I’m not a natural planner, but I make myself outline before I write.

• Procrastination: I tell myself I need perfect writing conditions, but I’m learning that’s not true.

Three writing strategies that help me

1. Do something every day: even if it’s just 150 words. Progress is progress.

2. Write everywhere: I switch it up: cafés, home, libraries. New environments help.

3. Reading about writing: craft books gives me focus and structure when needed.

Final thoughts: work in progress, not perfection

I’ve learned this isn’t something I’ll fix — it’s something I’ll work with. ADHD is part of who I am. And that’s okay.

If this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. ADHD doesn’t cancel out creativity — it just changes how you access it. And once you understand that, you can stop fighting yourself and start writing again.

The novelist Agatha Christie once said, "I work much better with a deadline. I always write my last chapter first.”

For those with ADHD, structure can help, but so can flexibility. Sometimes the trick is just getting started.

Or as Steven Pressfield put it: "Start before you’re ready.”

I’d love to hear your story, especially if you balance writing or creativity and neurodivergence.