How do writers write materials? The question of spontaneity vs. order, of instincts vs. principles is central to this discussion. In her chapter addressing the subject Hadfield ¹ describes how she sees these two sides of the materials-writing coin as being in conflict with each other, with the academics advocating for one approach on one side and the writers describing their processes as something entirely different on the other:

These accounts of the materials-writing process set up a tension between the ‘messy’, ‘recursive’, ‘spontaneous’, ‘ad-hoc’, ‘intuitive’ and possibly ‘atheoretical’ process that the writers describe, and a process which is linear, involving orderly progression through checklists, governed by a system of frameworks and principles, which appears to be advocated by theorists.

It is an opposition between both the nature of the process or ‘how it unfurls’ and what goes on behind the scenes. For the perspective of the theoretician, she cites frameworks put forward by Rajan (1995), Penaflorida (1995), Jolly & Bolitho (2008) and notes that the problem which unites them is the lack of specificity as to where ideas come from and how exactly one should go about writing the materials themselves. Mishan & Timmis ² look at more recent literature (St Louis et al. 2010; Prowse 2011; Tomlinson 2013) but note that the frameworks put forward here refer in the main to mediated materials writing – that is, cases in which ‘various intermediaries such as editors and government officials may influence the final form of the materials’. Although the extent of my materials-writing is unlikely to expand beyond the unmediated – produced by me, consumed by my learners – there is much to be gained from understanding the process of professional materials-creation. This is a process which is far from clean cut. In contrast to the structured orderliness described in the frameworks mentioned above, Hadfield summarises self-reports from professional materials writers which point overwhelmingly to the importance of the role of experience-based intuition. Prowse ³ comes to similar conclusions following his investigations into the processes of practising ELT authors.

So, as a novice, whose advice should I be following? Should I pick a framework and set about a linear progression through it, as Tomlinson would advocate? Or should I listen to the voices of those who have successfully written materials and follow my instincts and intuition for what feels right? In her conclusions, Hadfield emphasises the importance of dialogue with the imagined audience and notes that the questions arising from such dialogue are often remarkably similar to the frameworks theorists advocate for in their desire to impose what Tomlinson ⁴ calls ‘consistency and coherence’ on the process of materials design. Hadfield’s chapter concludes with a reformulation of her original statement of tension between academics and writers – having documented her own writing process, she can attest to the existence of a ‘tacit framework’:

I would suggest that other materials writers, in common with me, have such frameworks in place, even if they have never stated them in print, and that the fact that they have not explicitly articulated these frameworks or principles does not mean that they do not exist and do not inform their writing.

So it doesn’t have to be an either / or choice. Spontaneity can exist side by side with order in the process of materials writing, although the latter is often a ‘tacit framework’ which Hadfield ⁵  conceives of as an ‘internalised system’. She sees a particular benefit in explicating these for novices in materials writing. I have already made explicit the principles which I intend would underpin any materials I create, in Misham & Timmis terminology this is my ‘statement of beliefs’. The next stage is to decide upon a relevant framework for the design of my materials.

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