Yesterday, a young writer I'm mentoring told me she's never hated writing so much. She's in the middle of writing a book and her once-fun “hobby” has become her nemesis. At each keystroke, writer's block is threatening to stop her from writing her book for good.
Photo by Drew Coffman (creative commons). Modified by The Write Practice.
Why We Suffer From Writer's Block
There are a handful of reasons why writers struggle with writer's block: perfectionism, procrastination, and fear of failure.
However, one of the causes that most writers don't think about—until it hits them in the face—is apathy.
People often begin writing a book so they can have the ultimate bragging rights.
“Oh yeah, you're a hot-shot litigator? Well, I'm an author! You have a Tesla. I wrote a book! Smell the pages and burn with envy!”
Unfortunately, bragging rights only work as a motivator for so long, and when things start to get tough, as they often do around chapter four, you need to find something more meaningful to motivate you.
Writers Must Have Meaning
Most people have heard of Sigmund Freud, the famous psychologist, but Viktor Frankl, a student of Freud and fellow Austrian psychologist, is nearly as influential, if not as well known.
Frankl Jewish, and during World War II, he was captured by the Nazis and taken to Auschwitz, where he was assigned to work on a suicide watch. Can you imagine trying to convince an inmate at a concentration camp not to kill themselves, perhaps someone whose whole family had already been executed?
However, Frankl was extraordinarily successful, and he discovered that even in the worst situations, even in the greatest suffering, people are capable of experiencing moments of joy, you could even call it bliss, if they have one, necessary thing.
The secret was Meaning.
“In some ways suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a meaning, such as the meaning of a sacrifice,” wrote Victor Frankl, in Man's Search for Meaning.
Writing Lessons from Psychology
To my friend who was struggling to write her book, I told her something that's probably obvious to you. No one said writing a book would be easy. In fact, the writing process almost necessitates mental and emotional suffering.
However, writing should never be meaningless. And if it is, then there's a problem.
How do you find the meaning in writing? The best way I've found is to imagine who you're writing for.
Are you writing for yourself?
- for bragging rights
- for the money
- for your own sense of self-importance
If you are, then you'll likely find yourself struck with writer's block and feeling apathetic about your writing.
Or are you writing for others?
- for your readers
- to bring someone hope, healing, peace
- to share who you are (warts and all) with the world
So? Who are you writing for? Feel free to share in the comments section.
Here's the Trick to Break Writer's Block
My advice to the writer who was struggling with writer's block was to close her eyes and imagine her ideal reader, perhaps someone who was dealing with similar issues that she was writing about.
Imagine how your reader might feel as they read your story, I told her. Imagine them realizing for the first time that they aren't alone. Imagine how their life could be changed by your book.
Then, when you write, try to write directly to that person. As you write each sentence, think about how you can write it in such a way as to create a deep connection with them.
Some writers even tape a picture to the side of their computer monitor so that when they get blocked, they can always look and see the reason their writing and hopefully be re-invigorated.
What If Your Writing Could Be Sacrificial
The reason why this works to free you from writer's block is that it helps you focus on your reader's needs, not your own pain.
What if it wasn't about making your own name, about gaining bragging rights or making yourself feel important? What if the purpose behind it was sacrificial?
Perhaps next time you're hit with writer's block and experience the suffering side of writing, that feeling of frustration and confusion that often happens when we try to put words to our thoughts and experiences, perhaps you can realize that you're not doing it for yourself.
You're doing it for someone else.
Perhaps that will change your suffering into something much more meaningful, into sacrifice.
Who do you write for? Why is writing meaningful to you? Share in the comments section.
PRACTICE
Close your eyes and imagine your ideal reader picking up your book. Imagine how they feel reading it, like someone finally understands them. Imagine the deep sense of connection they feel with you, with the world.
Then, open your eyes and write. Write that paragraph that will change their life.
Write for fifteen minutes. When you're finished, post your practice in the comments section. And if you post, please be sure to connect with a couple of other writers by giving them feedback in the comments.
Happy writing!
I think I write because it always inspires me reading other writer’s creative usage of words. I don’t know why but I always feel a feeling of “tingled?” whenever I read creative descriptions & phrases.
I write so that one day I can create the same feeling in others, my readers, hopefully, though I have a long way to go. Hopefully, somebody feels inspired and be more positive reading my writings.
These days we’re constantly bombarded by plethora of negative news from all directions, and hopefully my writings as well as others can help to bring a positive light into people’s life & brighten up their day.
Tingled! Great word!
I took your practice exercise and followed as instructed. This is personal, hard to share, but very true. I don’t like to be vulnerable in my postings, but I guess that is necessary to be effective? Please forgive lack of proof reading, if I read it again before posting I will most likely lose courage to post!
Who am I writing to, and what are they reading and thinking and feeling as I write?
Right now I’m writing to the me deep inside. The one that runs in shame over who I am
and where I’ve been and what I’ve done
As I read, the me deep inside hears kind loving words of acceptance and
encouragement and above all care and being cared for and cared about and
protected. Believed in. worthy and able and capable.
I hear the words and replace the shame and guilt and confusion and fears with
grace and acceptance and adequacy, clarity. As the words are heard by me and as they sink in and take root and are believed the me deep inside releases and lets go
of the shame and fear and need to hide. I have that “aha” moment in
time where I realize that I am not my environment and I am not a pile of dirt
from the past and that I am not the sum total of every foolish and shameful act
I ever committed or mistake I made and that no matter what anyone else may
think of me they don’t get to define me or decide who I am or even judge what I
have done in such a negative way.
The poor decisions don’t define me, the core of who I am is not set by others
opinions or observations, but by me. now. with love and grace.
I, the me so deep in the core, am set free from being defined by others, by fears, by
the past.
Until I truly hear these words, until I truly set myself free by my writing, I can not
expect to have an impact on others.
Thanks for having the courage to post this Linda! I read this and was reminded of my own inner self. The self that tells me I’ll never be good enough, that my past mistakes will never allow me to follow my dreams and my heart. At some point, we as writers and humans need to concur our own insecurities and become who we want to who we dream to. Thanks for this wonderful piece. 🙂 Keep writing! You ARE a writer!
Great realizations, Linda! I think you could go even deeper, though. This may feel very vulnerable, but from the readers’ perspective it’s a little vague. Proud of you for pushing through and sharing it though!
Vague? really? Thank you for telling the truth and pointing that out. It is vague because I really fear what the reaction would be if I wrote the truth as it happened. Does anybody really want to read that? This is my food for writers block. Stare at the computer wanting to write words that I am afraid to write, unable to write other words until I write the words I am afraid to write… (insert repetitive cycle here).
(and here)
I hear you, and I think that’s very normal. I’ve coach writers before who were abused by family members, and I know how much of a struggle it is for them to tell their story. They’ve found, though, that telling the story can be incredibly freeing. Also, while you can always just write the story without sharing it, I think you’d be surprised at how supportive and encouraging readers will be if you do decide to share.
This is an awesome post, Joe. Thank you so much.
Well, isn’t writing all about empathizing with our fellow beings? I mean, what would it hold to write about things that don’t touch on others’ perceptions of being worthy to live and to endorse their feelings in such a world as full of meaningless contradictions and paradoxes?
I think that’s what many writers would agree with me to call ‘the art of narrating and writing’: to bring light to people’s life by telling them how different everything would be by simply re-positioning themselves in other points of view than the ones they have already experimented with. Though, for inspiring myself when struggling with writer’s block, I usually try to use what you mentioned, that there are people who would be deeply connected to what i have to share. This surely fuels my creativity engine.
Interesting that you said the writer’s job is to bring light people’s life. A fried recently shared this quote from Victor Frankl which touches on this whole subject, “He who would give light, must endure burning.”
You just aced it with this profound quote.
Thanks! Apparently though, the friend misquoted it. It’s actually, “What is to give light must endure burning.” I like the misquote better, though!
as all your posts this one was very helpful and is a good reminder of why we write..currently my book is something that I am truly passionate about and I hope won’t be a ‘writer’s block’ type novel…for it is what I call a warning and wake up book, which I have a passion about which has unusual characters to tell the story, but, in all the books that I’ve started…(hopefully will finish now that I’m retired) I have run into this problem and your advice is very timely…thank you.I also enjoy your scrivener blurbs especially on the character and setting plot pages…I still haven’t been able to find that template that has those pages..but I’ve made some up…the scrivener program is awesome
Glad you’re having such a great experience writing your book, Sequoia. May it continue!
Well this hit home like nothing else. I’ve been writing for a competition and have been hit with the greatest block of writing to ever block a writer. I couldn’t understand why because everything else I’ve written just clopped along real nicely. Then I realized. Those other stories I wrote were written for my friends, for this teeny tiny little writer’s group I started, whereas my reasons for entering the competition were more dubious. Primarily I (wanted) needed the money and the chance to say that I’d written something for a contest that actually did well. So I suppose that means I know what I’ll be writing now, and I won’t even worry about the competition and just write from the heart.
There you go! And since I’ve been sharing all these Victor Frankl nuggets of wisdom, here’s one more apt quote for your situation, “Don’t aim at success. The more you aim at it and make it a target, the more you are going to miss it. For success, like happiness, cannot be pursued; it must ensue, and it only does so as the unintended side effect of one’s personal dedication to a cause greater than oneself or as the by-product of one’s surrender to a person other than oneself. Happiness must happen, and the same holds for success: you have to let it happen by not caring about it. I want you to listen to what your conscience commands you to do and go on to carry it out to the best of your knowledge. Then you will live to see that in the long-run—in the long-run, I say!—success will follow you precisely because you had forgotten to think about it.”
This is beyond helpful, Joe. I first was introduced to Viktor Frankl in Psych 101 40 years ago – eek! His writing grabbed my attention from the first page – I believe his work speaks so well because of his life experiences – he understands the soul of man.
This is what I’m learning as I age – our stories have meaning, especially for the next generation. We gain a life experience that deepens over time and those of older generations have much to pass on – whether we believe it or not.
How often do we ask an elderly grandparent – or parent – about their life and they reply, “Oh, it’s not very interesting.” I tend to fall in this trap myself, realizing I, too, am keeping unintended secrets from my kids, etc. It’s more than what is lived, but what is thought and experienced through those hard times and everyday times.
As I witness a young family member sitting by her mother’s side as she slips from this life to the next, I understand her sorrow because I’ve “been there.” Walking with her in this journey tells a story of my own pain of losing a parent.
As I hold my young grandchild, I remember vividly the days when her mother was that tender age. It is here I can pour into this little life memories of her heritage in a family rich with love and grace passed down through the generations.
And, what about the adventures and failures that make us who we are? Our stories are endless.
It is a privilege to be the story teller.
So beautiful! I loved reading this. Thank you for sharing, Sandi!
Its only fair enough, since I posted a comment on another’s work, to post my practice. So here it is. I hope you like it.
Life wasn’t meant to be easy. Things happen, lifes changed and sometimes they are taken from us. Though I have never had a loved one taken from my life, I am met with the inexpressible horror of them leaving. I’ve been struck with dreams where they die right in front of me and I am unable to do anything about it.
I’ve woken up crying after such dreams, unable to get over my deep sadness. I don’t know if I’ll be ready for it when one of my family members dies. I know it will happen, but nothing can prepare me for that. It’s been said that I worry about every little thing and I’m sure that that is right.
It does me no good to worry but I do and it causes me unneeded stress. As you can imagine, this gives doubt a fair chance at stopping me. Whispered thoughts of “Even if you do get published, what if nobody reads it?” ah yes the ‘what if…’ question i know all too well.
I know there are people like me who worry about the unknown. We tend to over analyze every little thing. Everything MUST be perfect. Its overcoming this side of me that I am able to write. usually, when I am struck with writers doubt, it happens when I over analyze my writing.
This being said, I’m not even going to read over this piece after i’m done. Were I to do so I might change it beyond recognition for my own style. Well this is my fifteen minutes and I sign off. To every worry-wart like myself, I say ‘Trust yourself, you can do this,”
Miriam, this was fantastic. I totally got what you said because ‘worrying is like praying for something you don’t want’. This definitely makes me trust me more.
I’m glad I helped you Parsinegar. Worrying is indeed what you said “worrying is like praying for something you don’t want.” Thanks for commenting!
Great practice here, Miriam! It’s very easy to identify with and also encouraging.
Thanks for the comment Joy!
Miriam, I did the same thing. Post without reading. I’m still trying to figure out if we are incredibly brave in doing this, or not courageous enough to read and then post! So, lets call ourselves brave, OK?
You do such a great job of expressing your worry over things that might happen, of fears based in the unknown. I feel your fears just reading your words.
My fears are more over facing the things that have occurred, over what happens when they are brought from the corners of my memory and out into the light to be examined. What happens when I write the abusers names on the paper? It is not a fear of what might happen, but of saying “this did happen”.
OK, about your fear of loss of someone close to you. The way this life works is that sooner or later we all lose someone close to us. We can hate it and fear it and try to hide from it, but we just can’t change it.
The thing is, Miriam, none of us is ready for it until it happens. The strength to get through, the strength to go on is only gained when the loss happens. It is gained when we make the decision that we are still alive and will continue to live and we will work to honor the person we lost by becoming a better and stronger person.
My daughter died when she was 5yrs old. 30 plus years ago. I still remember sitting in the sun rays coming through the glass wall, looking at the tiny white coffin centered in front of the room. I wanted to die, right there, on the spot. There was no strength to carry on, I was not the kind of person to handle this.
I did not want to be the kind of person to handle this. Someone was singing and people were crying and I felt every eye in the room on me, sisters and brothers and nieces and nephews and friends and extended family all looking between me and my precious Holly. And you know what? I chose, right then and there, that I was and would be the kind of person to handle it. I would be strong. I would live and honor her by giving to others, to be strength for others. I would not dishonor her by falling apart or being bitter or any other negative thing.
Then the strength came. You will have it too, when you need it, not before you need it. Right now, love those that are around you, don’t take them for granted, but please believe that when you need it, if you choose it, you will have the strength to live on and to help others. We are never ready, ever, before we need it, we become ready when we need it.
Thank you for your words Linda. I hear the experience in them and will definitely take them into mind. I agree with one line in particular “We are never ready, ever, before we need it, we become ready when we need it,” this can relate to a lot of things and I thank you, once again, for your words.
I’ll try not to worry to much about the unknown, which will take work on my part but its a work in progress. I wish you well on your writing endeavors.
Thank you for a great article. Definitely got me thinking. I’ve read lots of various articles on how to get past writer’s block, and I’ve never seen this little mind trick before. Will definitely try the next time I’m stuck!
You’re welcome, Lee. Thanks for reading. Hope it works for you!
Have you seen my writer?
Been sitting here looking for her
Been putting up with her mood slide
and swing
Been waiting for her to come out,
‘been waiting.
Does she hide in the rain?
She likes that it washes all her pain.
Or maybe in the cloud?
And pretend she’s one of the crowd.
Sometimes, she forgets
At rare times, she gives up
Most of the times, she’s brave
Today, she’s a mess.
So she went away, miles away
Where I can’t be and stay
She walked all alone, backpacked
her musing
I wish she rather went to a class
—of storytelling.
I don’t understand her, why can’t she
Be a normal, selfless entity?
Why do I need to follow her flow?
Why can’t she just put on a good
show?
She is my dream, my hope, my
prayer
I begged, bribed, and battered her
To come back and write in my soul
Her thoughts, her feelings, her all.
Then I learned.
To ask the right questions:
What are our heart’s intentions?
How can I listen to the stories
of our heart
And translate them into words so we
can serve through this art?
I pray she comes back soon, or
tomorrow—if she needs more
time.
Just like what an angel told me,
“She’ll come out when she’s ready.”
So I guess I’d scribble some kind of
anything, at least, for the
meantime.
I really enjoyed this, Darlene. I hope it was cathartic!
Wow. Such true words. Thank you for this post. I’m definitely going to consider how to apply that trick for my WIP.
Great!
“Zarleaf, my father, General Azfall, was not who you think
he was…he—
“ I know. I know, young one.” His eyes were weary, but he
smiled in kindness.
“ You don’t need to say,” he continued. “ Life is not what
it always seems. And still, if I warned you before, you would not have agreed
with me.”
The boy stifled a sob, but he could not stop the tears from
swimming down his cheeks, glistening by the warm candle light.
Carefully, very carefully, the old man laid his hand on the
boy’s shoulder, still keeping that sad, yet uplifting smile.
For hours, they shared that emotion. That emotion of never
fully understanding everything in this world. Time and time again, the old,
wise man have seen this. The long and wild life he lived that gave him his name
as the Great Wise Zarleaf have revealed much to his mind. He understood that
though it is wrong to brew in sadness of the way the world was, he knew that it
is not wrong or shameful to not see something coming. We were all young once.
That was what that made Zarleaf different from the aged ones.
After the tears stopped coming, the boy looked up to the man,
waiting.
Zarleaf stood in great height and stature. “Where is
Starstone?”
“Oh, Wise man if I only knew. I haven’t seen her for years.
Father..that man separated us.”
“ Then, we will find her, your sister. Though the world
cycles in life and death, in birth and destruction, family, you will always
find.”
“ But, how will we find her?” he questioned with great
doubt. It was a doubt not of the impossibility of finding her, but of not being
able to move on, to move beyond realization and the heavy thud of grief.
“ We will find her. How? Obviously, with intellect,
speediness, and magic. Now, the question is how will you first find yourself to
find her? With steady, still strength,
with love mighty enough to awaken the incorrigible, and with gentle and
embracing compassion to those around you, you will move on. No matter how many
times you fall, your heart’s still beating. Be strong.”
Gathering his things on his desk, his hat, crystal necklace,
and other potions and medicines, he stopped by the door and turned with a set
determination and sparked look, challenging something.
“ So, young boy, you ready for that painstaking trip, you
begged me for when you were a toddler. I hope you still remember what I said
afterwards.”
A smile flickered on the boy’s face, and quickly dissipated.
“ ‘A quest is nothing fun or exciting. It’s nothing like in
fairy tales or children’s stories, spoken with grandeur and spectacular heroism.
A quest is overbearing sweat, sweat not selectively from laborious ordeals but
mostly from running for your lives, and bloody tears for the lack of a soft
bread at morning and a feathery, warm bed at night, at times, an impossible
feat, only the mad dabble in, but one
worth it to the end.’”
“Well, then, your answer?”
“ It never was about the fame was it?” he said while
remembering his imaginary games as a child of defeating dragons and monsters to
receive cheers and acknowledgement after.
“ Of course not.”
“ I’m going,” he answered, wiping away his tears. He knew he
could not as easily wipe away what happened and what emotions still lingered,
for he did not know for how long will last, but he knew with a budding
suspicion that this quest will take him way farther than from where he began. Not only by distance, but by his heart.
This is really good, Carolyn. I particularly liked this line, “We will find her. How? Obviously, with intellect, speediness, and magic. Now, the question is how will you first find yourself to find her?” Great job! Did you have a particular reader in mind as you wrote this?
Thank you! Yes, I was targeting teens who may have to deal with the world and people around them in a whole new perspective, especially after emerging from childhood.
I admit that I write for myself. I feel like writing is the best way to express feelings of frustration and sadness. I usually keep stuff like that in a journal, never opening it to anyone else. My stories have the same purpose: extensions of how I feel about life events and ways to escape reality. It never occurred to me that there could be someone who needs my story.
In the end, I guess I am motivated by the ideals of fame and prosperity. But I know that shouldn’t be the reason why. I have stories to tell, and I need to share them with others, no matter if I’m famous.
Me too. I hadn’t really thought about the future reader either. I write to express the things that for me are the most difficult. But it does get me thinking.
it’s difficult for me to verbally express myself, especially about certain subjects. I have a journal to address those subjects, but I keep it to myself. Our stories were not meant to be kept to ourselves. I think fear is a big motivator for keeping my stories locked away. I need to overcome that fear and realize I have something good to share.
Yes exactly. Fear does stop people from telling their stories. I think journaling is probably a really great way to start that though.
I try some other strategies to break writer’s block, with 1 that’s kinda like cheating. http://joshspilker.com/9-tips-to-beat-writers-block-including-1-that-feels-like-cheating/
When I first started writing it was for me, I’ll admit it, but at the same time it came with a feeling of awe. The first person to ever read a short story I wrote was my 7th grade teacher and when she called me to her desk she asked if I had really wrote what I had turned in. …Of course I did…. At the time I was nervous but then she told me that she really liked it and asked me some questions about it. That’s when it started, my love affair with writing.
I’ve never been good a placing a comma or “proper” English — I grew up in a rural place with country folk so my speech was a bit off (still is!) — but I felt proud that I had given my teacher something that she had enjoyed reading. I wanted to see if I could do it again. I suppose part of it was for the reader all along but since then writing has gotten me through the toughest part of my life (so far!) and now…. Now I’ve gone a year without writing, whether that is writer’s block or what I’m not sure. I want to write and have tried to but the words don’t come. So maybe I’ve lost my meaning to writing, I don’t know. But I still think that it would be nice to inspire a person to live their dreams with my writing, or help them escape a tough situation, know that they aren’t alone in their suffering or tough time. However, I still want to do it partly for me as well. Show myself that I can do this, that I can finish one story and then two and so on, have that since of pride, even if for a few seconds, and be able to say “I did this, this came from me from nothing and is now here.”
So where would I lie? Maybe somewhere in between writing for myself and for the reader, whomever he or she or they may be.
I didn’t want it to end, I didn’t want to lose it. I was afraid honestly. Afraid to lose everything I hoped for, afraid that I would lose what mattered most to me. I didn’t want it to go, the feeling of freedom, the feeling of being careless. But, even if they’re your, you can’t control them. Emotions. I had finally found the perfect emotion, one where I could just drop all my problems into a pit of lava, and watch them burn. But, they must of been mean and cold, because the magma spit them out, right back into my arms, where I fell. And no one helped me up. But it took awhile for them to reach me again. Even if it felt like only a couple of minutes, it took them a long time to finally come back. And I really didn’t want to lose that feeling of relief. I fell apart when they came back. And no one cared. Until, one day, I realized that it wasn’t a story, there was no prince coming to take me away. So, I decided I had enough. I decided I wanted to fly. And I did. For the longest time, before reality hit me again. And then, I pushed back harder. Harder than before. Harder than anyone could of pushed. I wasn’t going to let it end. I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want to lose it. Fear took over. Fear made me stronger, stronger than ever before. Everything did. I pushed back, and then, I saw the stars.
I always and only wrote for my sister. Growing up, she was the great storyteller. This was my way of giving back and share in the world-building experience. We spent hours creating imaginary friends, and when I discovered the magical world of words, it was a new way to create the same fun we always had. Now writing became a challenge. We set boundaries and guidelines for each other to see who could finish first. Sometimes she won, other times I did. It was always fresh and exciting.
The day I lost that love for writing was the day we were separated by divorce. Sure, I still saw my sister, but it wasn’t the same. We couldn’t stay up late whispering in the dark. We couldn’t spend hours locked in our room. We couldn’t walk the Old Woods spinning conspiracies. But through this experience, I found a new audience. I found the healing of writing. The sweet escape. I write for the audience that wants to explore a world where anything can happen and happy endings still exist.
I liked this article except for one thing: the title. This is no “trick,” but rather an essential component (perhaps the most important!) for staying connected to your writing and driven to accomplish it. In fact, we could argue this is true with all of life.
I’m sorry love. The pain wasn’t worth it. They never cared and they never will. All that blood was wasted for nothing. I wish I could have showed you that sooner. Because now you are reading this letter and the tears are evident and I am afraid for you.
Yes I said it. I am afraid for you my darling. More afraid than I have ever been. Because I am no longer around to keep you where you are needed. And you do not want to be there. Even though it has been the place you once longed for.