I begin a writing session by setting the scene both physically and digitally. My first step is to collect the material items I need to surround myself with in order to feel settled enough to think. In this case, I need my laptop, a notepad, several differently colored pens, a journal, and my water bottle. Then I set up my digital space. Choosing some good writing music and opening the documents I need to get started. In this case, I begin with the description of the assignment I'm working on, which is a research statement. At this point, I also turned my notepad in order to process my ideas about this assignment, an medium that I see as more concrete and tactile. This toggling between print and screen is indicative of my writing process more generally. I started relying on this strategy at the beginning of my graduate career. And since then, I have found that this kind of shettling between material and immaterial has become essential for me to organize complex thoughts. Certain thoughts require paper, others require screen, and sometimes I need to translate a thought on paper to the screen in order to really flush it out. I also start to collect ideas from other things I've written or notes I've stored on my computer. In this case, I first go to some notes I took during a conference I've just attended, as well as a response I wrote for class the week before. Collecting these idea resources helps me continue to create my writing environment. At this point, I decided I need some kind of visual to process how I was thinking about my research interests. Because of moments like this, I see my writing process itself as highly multimodal and embodied. To create one document, I rely on digital notes, handwritten notes, color, and visuals, as well as the inanimate objects that I surround myself with during my writing session. Eventually, I get to a point where I feel like I have an idea I can work with, the little seed that will grow into the finished paper. But just because this particular writing session is done doesn't mean that my writing process is complete. I take the main idea I've gotten to and let it hang out in my mind while I do other tasks around the house, like letting the dogs out, spraying down the stove, making a brief note about the assignment I was working on before I forget about it, then bringing the dogs back in, vacuuming, dishes, etc. They seemingly mundane tasks look like they have nothing to do with writing, but I'm still processing my ideas, playing with the thought I reached earlier. I see these kinetic embodied moments as doing some important non-writing work for my writing process, and eventually I'm ready to return to my draft, set a new writing environment for myself, and continue my recursive multimodal embodied experience of writing.