I was the first to answer, simply by dint of me being sat at one end and I made the classic mistake of trying to make a general statement about writing. There is no one kind of writer any more than there is one kind of writing. But my answer went pretty much as follows...
I said that I am - and always have been - a bit suspicious of writers who say they work every day except Christmas Day and write 2000 or 3000 or whatever, every day. Personally I can't see how that works. It certainly wouldn't work for me. I can't promise myself that I will write a certain number of words on a given day, neither would I want to force myself to write that number simple because it was my 'goal'.
When I say I am suspicious of this, it isn't that I don't think a writer can write 2000 or 3000 good words in a day. It is perfectly possible to write 6000 good words in a day. It's not even that I doubt that this could be done every day - which I do doubt - it is that writing large amounts of words is only part of the job of a writer.
Writing lots of words is a big part, don't get me wrong, and when you have publishing deadlines you need to keep that word count up or you quickly get into trouble. When I am writing a book I set myself deadlines and usually hit them, but I don't set myself a daily target.
But I don't see where editing fits in. Or planning? Or dreaming. Or living? On one hand I have the undisciplined's admiration for the disciplined, but on the other I simply don't understand it. One writer said they wrote 5000 words every day. Every day? That's 1,300,000 words a year on a five day week. Really? That's a lot of words for a writer of children's books, even allowing for over-writing.
The writing of fiction - for me anyway - is a messy pulling together of persistent imaginings - things that refuse to go away and demand to be put into words. I am not talking about waiting for these things to come unbidden - I have a mortgage to pay and don't have the luxury of waiting passively for my characters and plots to turn up.
I was looking through my computer once looking for any ideas I might have forgotten. I say a document headed 'Head floating up through clouded water.' Intrigued, I opened it up to find that it simply said, 'Head floating up through clouded water.' That is how most of my ideas come to me. They emerge out of the fog. They demand my attention. They follow me about. They nag me.
I write like I draw and paint. I do a little bit. I pace around for a while. I pounce on it again and do some more. I pace around a bit more. I rarely have a rigid framework to work within. It is normally a set of unconnected images and scenes that I have to find a home for. When I am caught up in a book I can write for hours, but when I am trying to make sense of a book I can write next to nothing.
As in so much with writing, there is no 'right' and 'wrong'. It is all about the result and finding a way that suits your temperament and the books you wish to write.
When asked about their working day, writers tend to fall into two camps - as we did here - between those who have an amount of time they set aside to write and hope they will write a reasonable amount, and those who have a specific word count in mind. Often it is a mix between the two - Anthony McGowan said that he feels bad if he doesn't write at least 1000 words and I'm the same.
But I would be lying if I said that I don't feel bad regularly. If not often.
The important thing for me is to write something - even if it is just a few lines in my notebook - and to keep alive that fragile sense that I might actually write something really good. . .