How to Fight Writer's Block with Other People's Creativity

Writing is an escape.

There’s nothing more rewarding than seeing single words become sentences that sing a melody and those melodies become symphonies. Writers have a gift. The gift of stringing words together that, on their own, mean absolutely nothing.

Enter writer's bock.

The bane of our existence. The wall that appears out of nowhere to halt your progress. It's as though you are straining to hear the last tendrils of an oboe's cry after a melodic symphony and someone in the percussion sections trips and like the flip of a switch the beginnings of a Philip Sousa march begin pulling you out of the trance you had been under.

I was 46,825 words into my novel when I got writers’ block and I was devastated. As of right now, I’m still stuck, and not for lack of trying. I’ve done it all. Taken a hike, slept on it, asked for help from a friend but nothing seems to help.

Like so many before me writer's block often led to the great pit of time wasting distractions. Among the long list such as cleaning, eating, writing anything but what you're meant to be writing is the distraction of social media. A few months ago I fell into this deep pit and I fell hard. I ended up on social media for more hours than I care to admit.

There’s a new trend going around in the writer/social media world where people are posting videos about trying to get you to read their favorite books based on aesthetics of the book. The video then rolls through a number of pictures that showcase the feeling, colors, and overall aesthetic of the story. It was fascinating to watch and I have to say, I was even convinced to read some of the recommendations.

Then I had a thought. What if I found a video, showcasing a place or feeling, and write about it.

I became obsessed. I would see an Instagram Reel and immediately feel the pull to write. I have notes on my phone, notebooks, computer, even my hand about these small moments in time that needed to have their story told. It’s where the inspiration for Shattered Glass came from.

I saw this reel from @juliiathompson and knew I had to figure out the story of the girl standing in the water. She had a tale to tell and I just needed to know what it was.

I now have a collection of hundreds of saved posts and reels from Instagram that I have felt drawn to use as part of my storytelling. I don't claim this as a brand new tactic for writing or even want to, but I believe that we when, as creatives, connect our crafts we can build something so much better than we could have ever imagined.

Feel free to use the practice anyway you like, but this is how I have been using it and how it's led to so many moments of enlightenment and passion for storytelling that for a while I thought might have been gone forever.

I've set up my practice with a few simple steps that I think you might find helpful.

Set a time limit. Don't use this as an excuse to leave your empty page empty for hours and instead spend that time to scower the internet for the perfect video or picture. Do not abuse this practice! Give yourself anywhere between five to twenty minutes to find something that pulls you in. If you find something faster than that stop. Stop and start writing.

Here's a few examples:

The sun began to descend behind the distant mountain that plunged into the sea in the west. Slowly, as if strained by the movement, the sky above the rolling waves began to change. First, the bright gold of the sun bled into the sky crashing into orange and fading the internal blue into a hue of purple. As the sun continued its decent the sky above me blushed in pinks and rose colors before the tip of the sun touched the horizon.

“These skies will miss the touch of your face.”

I closed my eyes at the sound of his voice. My burning heart mirrored the sky before me but nothing would describe the resentment that settled in my heart for him. Even my father had pleaded. Yet, Kubal just stood there watching me be sold away. I could not see his shadow, but I felt the heat of his body press into mine.

I didn't dare move closer and it took every ounce of focus I possessed not to lurch forward and snatch the crystal from its case right then and there. The stone was placed expertly in the center of the high-rise apartment so that at the right moment when the sun was rising and falling the rays would illuminate the stone, showcasing its inner beauty. The cracks loosed images that danced on the walls in stunning patters not even the most skilled artists could recreate. The crystal was a treasure from the earth itself.

"Ah, I see you have excellent taste," he purred into my ear. The man was too close, his body pressed against mine. I wanted to scream, but forced myself to stay still and listen. "I found that beauty during my travels through the city of Limpul. It was a great discovery for me."

I was grateful then that he could not see my face. I had worked hard that night to keep my expression from divulging more than I wanted it too, but when he talked about the crystal as though he found it instead of stealing it from the cold hands of my father's body I knew every inch of my face displayed my disgust.

With roots that went deeper than the water around me, the red trees sprung up all around. I could see my reflection in the quiet still water with only the slow dip of my paddle and the smooth glide of my flat boat to disturb the peaceful, sacred forest. My silver hair had been pulled loosely atop my head and the tendrils fell in waves to my waist on top of my ceremonial robes. The Arden has always been a place where no one was allowed to go save for two occasions. The first, was in the event of the death of the Imelda leader, it allowed for one priestess to travel to receive the anointment of the new leader of the tribe. The second, was when the pull of the sun was upon the hearts of the priestesses and the called needed to be answered.

In that moment I was traveling through the sacred Arden for neither of those reasons. It was for that reason I did not believe I would make it out alive.

I had been chosen. Chosen to die.

This 'pull' might be anywhere from hearing dialogue in your head to feeling like you know what the person is thinking in the video or picture. It might even just be a desire to tell their story or practice describing a scene that you see. There might be a quote that's used as the audio for a video or a picture that makes you pause. Anything can call to you. Whatever it is, let it guide you and don't keep searching for something better, you can find something different tomorrow.

Once you found your muse for the day, start writing and don't stop. I like to split my screen to watch the video over and over, or take a screenshot of it so you have it close and can refer back to it.

Allow your creativity to be fueled by those around you. I heard once that you should only write about what you know. If we only wrote about what we knew there would be no undiscovered worlds or moments in time that break us when we read them. We have access to the world that we don't know. Let yourself be carried by those worlds and write. Never just write about what you know, allow the world you know to take you to places no one has ever been before.