When the pose is chosen, I refine it down to its essence during an initial period of "no-painting" during which I sit in meditation and see the model in more-and-more detail and, simultaneously, in less-and-less detail. As a whole, all at once. It is only when I feel the impulse to move begin to course through my hands themselves as they rest in my lap, that I know it is time to pick up a brush. (Sometimes that's a long time. Imagine what the poor model is thinking!)
Once I have a vision and tapped into an energy source, the paintings themselves come off in short order in one burst of playful energy after another, always learning from the last pieces, but also always starting fresh with the next one.
"The nature of the soft brush and ink does not permit correcting, changing, or retracing a stroke...the hand has to be sure, and coordination of heart and hand is essential...Brushwork is thus the direct expression of the mind in action. Its function is to make visible the invisible."
"The Way of Chinese Painting", by Mai-mai Sze, Random House, NY, 1959. (pp 116-117).