Befriending Writer’s Block
Suffering from writer’s block is misery. Whether it is the result or the process of writing that we care about, writer’s block keeps us from achieving it. And that feels terrible.
But what if writer’s block, haunting as it is, offers an opportunity?

I’m not saying it’s not hard. It is. Even though there are countless guides on how to deal with it, and I’m sure that at least the writer has benefited from their approach. Just as there are countless people who’ve never experienced it telling us that it’s all in our heads (of course it is1) and that we should just write again to get rid of it (for sure). Advice like that feels a lot like being told to just be happy again while suffering from depression. What I would like to offer is a different perspective.
Think of the ordeal the hero has to go through to get what they want by growing to deserve it. What if we have to overcome writer’s block to grow as writers?
At least that is what I have come to understand as I have worked through my block. This is not an advice on how to get rid of writer’s block. There are countless guides out there, and in the end, the only one who can help you is yourself. Instead, it is an invitation to not feel quite as bad while you’re struggling to do so.
This is what happened to me (your story and reason for being blocked will probably be different from mine, but the journey is the same):
After many years of believing myself immune (and being one of those ignorant and sometimes detestable people who tell others to “just write again”), I suddenly began to wonder what others would think of my writing. It felt like an emergency stop from full speed. I started to consider what people would want to hear from me and what kind of story would be more likely to be published.
I had always written for myself. I had wanted my books to be published because I loved them and wanted to share that love, but I wrote for the sheer joy of writing. Until writing for myself was not enough any more (or so I thought). It did not get me published.
So I stopped.
That’s not entirely true, of course. I picked up writing again and again, only to put it down with ever-increasing feelings of anxiety. I wrote a whole book (and got stuck in the second part), drifting between the joy that had always filled me when I was writing and a newfound anxiety that kept pushing the joy away, as if Inside Out 2 was being staged in my brain.
I had become conscious of my writing. Like a child that suddenly perceives its surroundings and has to struggle to reorient itself between its own inner world and the new world outside, to become a person and a part of society. I had been a naive writer. Consciousness took both my naivety and my writing.
But consciousness is a good thing. There is nothing wrong with naive writing that makes for an enjoyable read. But there is so much more power in writing consciously. It’s the difference between an avid swimmer who can do the distance and a professional who has adapted the techniques to their own body and glides effortlessly through the water.
Accepting writer’s block as a challenge did not magically eliminate it. Nothing did. It was hard work, setbacks and grid. But it transformed writer’s block from a ghostly, haunting nothingness into a challenge that I could work to overcome. A challenge that was worth overcoming because it would not only bring back the joy, but help me achieve what I needed to find a new balance2.
I found the confidence to write for myself again, for the sheer joy of it, knowing that what I write may not be published or liked, but that it is exactly what I need to write at this very moment.
I was once told that those who never fall off a horse’s back are not true riders. We may all be thrown or blocked for different reasons. But it’s a comforting thought to me that overcoming writer’s block makes us true writers.
Image generated by DALL·E.