I write like I speak (with parenthetical asides—and emphasis). I never outline; either I have a framework in mind, or I start writing and see where I end up. I edit and revise as I go—once I finish a paragraph, it's done, unless something I write (or don't write) later on prompts me to go back and touch things up. I agonize over sentence structure and word choice; I even rewrite sentences if the words and spaces aren't arranged in a manner that's visually appealing to me. I read and reread what I've written, sometimes spending more time double-checking my work than writing work to double-check. I'm a perfectionist, and that makes writing a very slow process.
That doesn't mean my writing is perfect. I'm long-winded. I'm not always satisfied that I've accurately represented the truth, my memories, or my opinions. I get weary when I spend too long on one thing, and I get sloppy when I hold myself to a deadline. I focus too much on the negative, if only because it's so much easier to articulate than the positive.
I look back at my earliest writings for GameFAQs, Exfanding Your Horizons, and GameCola, and I can see how much I've grown and changed as a writer. I think of the writing assignments I had in elementary school—some of which are preserved for posterity in a box in the closet—and I realize the goofy little kid I used to be never really grew up; he just got a bigger vocabulary. Forever constant, yet never the same; that's me.