The Write Habits...

 Anthony Trollope wrote for three hours every morning before going to his job at the post office

William Faulkner wrote As I Lay Dying in the afternoons before clocking in on the night shift as a supervisor at a university power plant.

Joseph Heller churned out magazine advertising by day and wrote Catch-22 in the evenings, sitting at the kitchen table in his Manhattan apartment. “I spent two or three hours a night on it for eight years,” he said. “I gave up once and started watching television with my wife. Television drove me back to Catch-22.”

Charles Ives

The composer Charles Ives was an insurance company Chief executive by day and devoted evenings and weekends to his scores.

Wallace Stevens, an insurance lawyer, scribbled scraps of verse at the office and had his secretary type them up. “I find that having a job is one of the best things in the world that could happen to me,” 

René Descartes liked to sleep until midmorning, then linger in bed, thinking and writing, until 11 a.m. or so. Voltaire also spent the morning in bed, reading and dictating new work to one of his secretaries.


Marcel Proust wrote exclusively in bed, lying with his body almost completely horizontal and his head propped up by two pillows.  “After ten pages I am shattered,” he wrote.

William Styron would sleep until noon, then read and think in bed for another hour or so before lunch with his wife at 1:30. (He didn’t begin writing until around 4 in the afternoon.) Patricia Highsmith also eased herself into work mode by sitting in bed, "surrounded by cigarettes, ashtray, matches, a mug of coffee, a doughnut and an accompanying saucer of sugar." 

Edith Wharton wrote in bed in the mornings, as did Edith Sitwell, who said, “All women should have a day a week in bed." Sitwell would sometimes stay there all morning and through the afternoon—until finally, she said, “I am honestly so tired that all I can do is to lie on my bed with my mouth open.”

Somerset Maugham got a head start on his morning writing session by thinking of his first two sentences while soaking in the tub. The composer Benjamin Britten bookended his work sessions with baths—a cold one in the morning and a hot one in the evening. 

While working on his scripts, Woody Allen uses the shower as a creative stimulant. 

“The shower is particularly good in cold weather. This sounds so silly, but I’ll be working dressed as I am and I’ll want to get into the shower for a creative stint. So I’ll take off some of my clothes and make myself an English muffin or something and try to give myself a little chill so I want to get in the shower. I’ll stand there with steaming hot water coming down for thirty minutes, forty-five minutes, just thinking out ideas and working on plot. Then I get out and dry myself and dress and then flop down on the bed and think there.”

Bathing was essential to Beethoven's creative process as well. He liked to stand at his washstand and pour pitchers of water on his hands, bellowing up and down the scale or humming loudly to himself, then pacing about the room and pausing to jot down ideas.

Benjamin Franklin, by contrast, preferred a daily “air bath.” In his time, baths in cold water were considered a tonic, but Franklin believed the cold was too much of a shock to the system. "I have found it much more agreeable to my constitution to bathe in another element, I mean cold air," he wrote in a letter. "With this view I rise early almost every morning, and sit in my chamber without any clothes whatever, half an hour or an hour, according to the season, either reading or writing."

After lunch, Victor Hugo embarked on a two-hour walk or performed a series of strenuous exercises on the beach. Hugo would "run until sweat breaks out, strip naked, jump off a rock into the waves, then lie down in the sun to dry."

Franz Kafka devoted 10 minutes to a series of swings, stretches, and body-weight exercises that he performed naked at the window; he did an additional 10 minutes after he had finished writing. P. G. Wodehouse employed a similar regimen, performing a series of 12 callisthenic exercises every morning after waking.

But the most extreme example is the French composer Erik Satie, who each morning would walk from his home in a Paris suburb to the city's Montmartre district, a distance of about 6 miles. There he would visit friends, work on his compositions in cafés, eat dinner, and go out drinking—often missing the last train home, in which case he would walk back again, slipping into bed just before sunrise (and then getting up and walking back a few hours later). The scholar Roger Shattuck once proposed that Satie’s unique sense of musical beat, and his appreciation of “the possibility of variation within repetition,” could be traced to this “endless walking back and forth across the same landscape day after day.”

Updike

 William Faulkner: "I write when the spirit moves me, and the spirit moves me every day." George Balanchine: "My muse must come to me on union time." Chuck Close: "Inspiration is for amateurs. The rest of us just show up and get to work." John Updike: "I’ve never believed that one should wait until one is inspired because I think that the pleasures of not writing are so great that if you ever start indulging them you will never write again." George Gershwin said that if he waited for inspiration, he would compose at most three songs a year.

Just about all the above was collected from the book:
Daily Rituals:  How Artists Work by Mason Currey.  
The rest was from hyperlinks too numerous to recall and if I had better work habits, I'd go back search for them.  But I don't.