One of my favorite quotes is, "I'd rather learn to play the piano than have a clean piano." My husband, I suspect, would rather have a clean piano. He is tidy. Very tidy. I veer more toward a bit messy.
Okay, sometimes I veer toward very messy. If I'm creating something—a casserole, a song, a book, a costume, a brochure, a play, whatever—I make a mess. I'll have piles of paper or vegetables or sequins, stacks of notes, a tape recorder, music, glue, colored pens, recipe books, glitter, paint, etc. My brain works that way, grabbing loose ends of this and that, tying them together, physically or mentally. Being ordered and neat is alien to my process of creating.
Because of this, I become rather frustrated with those who insist that students should outline before they create anything in writing. Intellectually, it seems like a good idea. But in reality, for me and probably for many students, it doesn't work.
What does work is what a professor once told me was most valuable in the writing process—outlining after you write. Yes! That works perfectly for me. It helps me see that my work does have an appropriate organization or, if not, it helps me see how I can correct it.
We're all different, though. My tidy husband is creative in a different way. Instead of songs or books or plays, he creates systems that make machines and robots and production lines work. And he does it neatly. For all I know, he even outlines first.
Opposites do attract, after all.