4 Ways to Beat Writer’s Block
Writer’s Block looks different for different writers. For some, it’s surfing the internet while you should be writing. For others, it’s staring at your blinking cursor on a blank word doc and feeling agonizingly stuck. And for many, it means not even sitting down to write in the first place.
A lot of us buy in to the idea of writer’s block. We share funny memes and pie charts, and lament to our writer friends about how awful it is.
It doesn’t have to be this way. In fact, it’s possible to never get writer’s block again — and with the tips below, I’ll explain how. But first, I’d like you to understand what writer’s block is. And no, it’s not perfectionism. No, it’s not laziness. No, it’s not an internet addiction.
Writer’s block is fear.
Writer’s block is the question: What if it’s not good enough? This can take many forms:
· What if it’s not commercial enough to sell to a publisher?
· What if my agent hates it?
· What if it’s too cliched, melodramatic, or uninteresting?
· What if this new plot trajectory goes up in flames and I have to throw out 10 thousand words?
· What if my mom disowns me after reading this sex scene?
· What if I never realize my writerly dreams because everything I write is hot garbage?
Have you ever seen a comedian push through when someone is heckling them? Either they begin to stumble, falter, and turn red in the face — or they speak to the heckler directly, crack a joke, and move on.
Writer’s block = you heckling yourself. It’s you telling yourself that your writing is hot garbage: coffee grounds, banana peels, moldy leftovers, sitting out in the sun. Writer’s block is giving in to your fear that your writing isn’t good enough.
That you aren’t good enough.
So, let me set the record straight: your first draft probably is hot garbage. Not because you’re especially untalented, but because you’re normal. Because all first drafts are bad. All of them. So congratulations! You’re right on track.
That said, let me set another record straight: just because your first draft sucks doesn’t mean you suck. And it doesn’t mean that your book will suck.
Let me repeat myself: Writer’s block is fear. Your perfectionism toward your first draft is fear. Your internet fixation, your blank stare, your avoidance of your desk, your obsession with fixing every little typo of freshly-written language…this is you giving in to your fears.
This, too, is normal.
You’re afraid because you care. You want your writing to be great. You want your publisher and agent to swoon when they read it. You want it to be fresh, surprising, emotive, and unputdownable. You want your mom to be proud. This is because this writing thing matters to you. It matters so much. Which means you care so hard.
But let’s be real: you can’t realize your writerly dreams without writing something. And you really shouldn’t be thinking about publishers, your agent, your mom, innocuous typos, or your own personal stratospheric expectations when you’re writing the first draft. Because none of that matters when you’re drafting.
What matters when you’re drafting is discovery. Your first draft is about discovering who your characters truly are and what their journeys are truly about. And you can’t discover these things if you keep getting in your own way and demanding it be perfect.
You can either be the comedian who gets all flushed in the face and fumbles off the stage, or you can stare down your inner heckler, give her a big grin, flip her the bird, and prove her wrong.
So. How do we get unstuck? Here are my key takeaways:
1. Understand that the only thing a first draft has to do is exist. I always tell my students: you can’t edit a blank page.
2. Don’t show anyone your first draft. I’m serious. This will give you the freedom to write as poorly as you want, to follow every impulse, take every risk, and make every mistake — without anyone to witness it. A good author friend of mine named Lindsay Schopher says that if writing a novel is like carving a marble sculpture, then the first draft is simply retrieving a chunk of marble off a mountain and hauling it back to your workshop. The subsequent revision drafts are where the true work begins. So: Get it down. Type “the end.” Get it in your workshop before you worry about making it “good.”
3. Abide by the one sentence rule. If you’re having trouble getting started — feeling distracted, or discouraged, or uninspired, I have a word count rule for you: write one sentence. Every time you sit down to write. Just one sentence. I find that it’s hard to write just one, but it’s the first one that’s always the hardest. And at the end of the day, if all you’ve written is one bad sentence, it’s at least better than having written none at all.
4. Try an exercise:
I have three exercises that I use to get un-stuck:
The first one is a character exercise from the great Donald Maass called “Third Level Emotions.” This is a great exercise if you’re feeling like you can’t quite define who your character is or how they’re feeling in a given scene.
Basically, take the scene that you’re feeling stuck on and write down how your character is feeling. Perhaps they’re feeling angry. Now, identify another emotion they’re feeling, deeper down. Perhaps they’re angry, but they also feel betrayed. Now, identify a third emotion. Perhaps they’re feeling angry, and betrayed, but also jealous. Now we’re getting somewhere! Take that third emotion and explore it in your scene. Don’t explain it — SHOW it. You can read the whole exercise in Donald Maass’s craft book The Emotional Craft of Fiction. I highly recommend this book to anyone who wants to deepen their character’s inner lives.
The second exercise is all about raising stakes. If you’re feeling stuck because of a plot-related blockage, this is a great way to give yourself a leg up.
Take any scene you’re struggling with and ask yourself: What is my character hoping to achieve in this moment? The scene might relate directly to your character’s primary goal in the whole story — such as the climactic scene of the book — or something smaller — such as a tangential goal to help them along their greater journey.
The important thing is to identify WHAT IS MY CHARACTER TRYING TO ACCOMPLISH? They could be a non-cook trying to create a beautiful culinary spread to impress an important dinner guest. They could be trying to dismantle a bomb. Whatever it is, it should be important to your character.
I find that with this exercise, what the character wants to accomplish right now is always the missing piece that’s making me feel stuck in a stagnant scene. My character is a bit aimless, just going around doing things without any real urgency. But let’s go one step further.
You’ll notice in my examples above that not only does the character want to accomplish something, they also have a strong reason why they can’t fail. That non-cook trying to impress a dinner guest? They want to impress them for a reason. Why? Maybe they’re up for a promotion and they’re entertaining their boss. Maybe it’s their first time meeting their partner’s parents. You’ll also notice that there’s a time constraint — the guests are arriving soon, and maybe the cooking isn’t going as well as your character hoped. Maybe something is burning.
My point is: once you have identified what your character is trying to accomplish, it’s important to also identify what will happen if they fail. Looming failures are your stakes. Raising the stakes is the act of ramping up that sense of impending failure.
It’s an important dinner. Now the food is burnt. Or the food is ruined. And the guests are arriving any minute. And if they aren’t impressed by this dinner, your character could lose that promotion or fail to get their partner’s parents’ blessing.
This exercise is about identifying what your character is trying to accomplish while clarifying what will happen if they fail. These are two essential building blocks to any great scene — and I promise you, if you’re feeling stuck in a stagnant scene, this is a great way to beef up the intensity.
The third exercise is actually a mindfulness technique that I use on my characters. It’s perfect for when you feel like you can’t envision your story. It’s called the 54321 Grounding Technique and it’s a perfect 5-senses exercise that’ll help you feel more grounded in your character’s world.
The basic exercise is to list 5 things you see, 4 things you hear, 3 things you physically feel, 2 things you smell, and 1 thing you taste in your given surroundings. To apply this to your story’s setting, you have to see your setting through your viewpoint character’s senses.
In a forest, a lumberjack is going to notice very different things than a hairstylist. In a city, a bike messenger is going to notice very different things than a historian. Make sure your 54321 observations fit your character’s sensibilities.
Now, once you’ve identified your character’s observations, apply them to your scene via your character’s emotions and judgements. Don’t just list 5 things the viewpoint character sees — have your character emotionally respond to these sensory observations and judge them per their profession, back story, current mood, and more.
A rainstorm can be gloomy or romantic depending on the characters and circumstances.
So, to repeat the key takeaways for getting un-stuck:
1. Understand that the only thing a first draft has to do is exist.
2. Allow your first draft to be shitty by resolving NOT to show anyone your work until you’ve fully revised it in draft two or beyond.
3. Abide by the one sentence rule.
4. Do an exercise to get yourself unstuck.
5. Bonus: Keep in mind that writers’ block, perfectionism, and procrastination all come from a place of fear. Be brave!
And remember: You are enough. Your words matter. So quit heckling yourself and WRITE.
This article has been adapted from an episode of The Write Inspiration podcast, hosted by Nicole J. Persun.
