Writer’s Block Isn’t Real

“I’m not blocked. I’m just overwhelmed, tired, scared, distracted, perfectionistic, doubting, or stubborn. Or all of the above.”

There. I said it. Writer’s block? It’s not some mysterious creative plague sent by the muses to punish us. It’s just a name we slap onto a pile of other very real feelings.

And you know what? That actually makes it less scary.

When I used to say I had writer’s block, it felt like a dead end. Like I had to wait it out, maybe light a candle and whisper to the writing gods, hoping the words would return. But eventually, I realised I wasn’t blocked. I was just avoiding. Or exhausted. Or, let’s be real, spending too much time comparing myself to other writers on social media.

So if you’re stuck, let’s look at what might really be going on — and what to do about it.

😩 Burnout in Disguise

Sometimes, what we call “block” is actually just burnout. You’ve been pouring and pouring until your creative well is dry. And then you wonder why the words don’t come.

Rest is not optional. It’s part of the process. And yet we treat rest like a reward for productivity, not a requirement for it. So take a break. Read. Nap. Touch grass. Watch something terrible and shamelessly enjoyable. Let your brain reset.

You are not a machine. Even the most magical quills run out of ink.

😬 Perfectionism Paralysis

Ah yes, my old nemesis. Sometimes I’m not blocked — I’m just terrified that what I write won’t be good enough.

Sound familiar? You sit down to write and immediately feel the pressure to create something brilliant. Every sentence feels wrong. Every idea feels stupid. You delete more than you type.

Here’s the truth: first drafts are supposed to be bad. Like, really bad. I’ve written entire chapters that made me want to bury my laptop under a pile of laundry and pretend it never happened. But here’s the thing — those awful pages? They gave me something to work with. And that’s everything.

So lower the bar. No, seriously. Set it on the floor. Let yourself write garbage. Then make it better later.

🧠 Mental Clutter

Sometimes, you’re not blocked — you’re distracted. Life is loud. Bills are due. Your inbox is overflowing. Your cat is vomiting on the carpet.

If your brain is full, your creativity has no room to breathe. So brain-dump your thoughts. Write a list. Journal. Meditate, if you’re into that sort of thing. Or go for a walk without your phone and let your mind wander. You’d be surprised how many plot holes get solved on a walk around the block.

Mental clutter can’t be outwritten. It has to be cleared.

🤷 Fear of Finishing (Or Starting)

This one sneaks up on me a lot. I’ll be working on a draft, making great progress, and then suddenly… nothing. I stall. I avoid. I reorganise my desk three times.

Turns out, finishing is scary. Starting is scary. Because once it’s done, someone might read it. And what if it’s not good? What if I poured myself into it and people hate it? Or worse — ignore it?

Fear of vulnerability masquerades as procrastination. So give yourself permission to be afraid. But write anyway.

✏️ What Actually Helps

• Timers. Set one for 15 minutes and just write anything. Even nonsense. Especially nonsense.
• Change of scenery. Write somewhere new. Different coffee shop, different playlist, different notebook.
• Write badly on purpose. Seriously. Tell yourself, “I’m going to write the worst paragraph in history.” You’ll end up laughing — and writing.
• Talk it out. Sometimes I talk to myself like a deranged plot therapist: “Okay, so why is the prince afraid of the forest again?”
• Read something amazing. Not to compare — but to be reminded why you wanted to do this in the first place.

Writer’s block isn’t a curse. It’s a symptom. A signal. Your brain trying to tell you something.

Maybe it’s tired. Maybe it’s scared. Maybe it just really wants a snack.

But whatever the cause, the cure isn’t waiting for divine inspiration. It’s curiosity. Compassion. And the stubborn belief that your words matter, even when they don’t feel magical yet.

Now go write something messy.