How I Beat Writers Block

Classic writers block takes two forms: 

1. Getting up to a certain point then not being able to continue. You've written long and hard, and suddenly, at the end of the sentence, you can't think of what comes next. It doesn't matter how hard you try, the villain won't pick up the gun and the heroine stays home in her pajamas. After hours of staring at the screen, you decide maybe you'd make a good chef (writing is for pale bookworms and nervous journalists with big glasses, after all), so you buy a cookbook from Amazon and start googling french cooking terms. 
    
2. Nothing to say. You've sat down to write, and you've written forty-five first sentences—and you don't like any of them. None of them catch on, each one more flaccid than the last, and every time you come up with something maybe even a little good, the burst of inspiration dies out like a shooting star landing in the ocean. Dead. Completely. Sunken to the dark seaweed-y depths to live with bottom dwellers and pale fish with large eyes. You get it.

I don't know of any diehard methods to beat writers block, but I can tell you what I do: Write. About writers block. I write about how I despise it, how it makes me feel worthless and miserable, how it robs me of all inspiration and love for writing that usually comes so naturally. I write about how frustrating it is to want to say something and not be able to, like the boy who wants to ask the pretty girl to dance but he just... can't... get... the... words... out... there... Pretty soon, I've written a paragraph. If I'm feeling particularly spiteful (which is rare—I may have ditzy spells, but I'm not vindictive by nature), I'll have a page. Suddenly (while my brain was learning french and my fingers were flying with wrathful vengeance against something so small and obnoxious), the heroine has put on her super-suit, the villain is holding up a bank, and the shooting star is resurrected in blazing glory.

It may not work for everyone—but it's better than staring at the screen in doleful misery. 

Maybe it will work for you.

Writing Through Writers Block

Writing about how writing through writers block is all good and well when the tank is full and the brain is buzzing—enter writers block, and writing is impossible. None of the ideas take root for longer than a sentence, and every sentence looks flat and colorless. Grinding out one sentence after the next feels like punishment for a crime you didn't want to commit, and the longer you spend laboring over words, the less you can think of to say. It's a vicious cycle. Most good writers say that the best way to break writers block is to write through it. I've said it myself, on days when I wasn't experiencing the dread sensation. But days like today, it's difficult to take that advice. Terribly difficult. It feels like every word on the page is awful. And it doesn't make sense, and the jokes aren't funny, and the witty insights that are usually so good just sound like I tried too hard.

But, even though writing through writers block is so hard, and so awful, there is good news. It doesn't last forever. And you can always edit.

Because maybe tomorrow, when your brain isn't slogging under the weight of ill-clarity, and you look at your work again, you'll see that it wasn't as terribly awful as you thought, and without that word that's clogging things up over there, and that other phrase that's in the way there, it could be really not too bad, maybe might even be good!

When Life Gets Writer's Block

Every author has a system of dealing with writer's block. Some push through it, writing every word that comes to mind, regardless of sense or structure. Others stop working, taking the block as a sign to mean that it's likely that nothing important is going to be written at that moment. Many have cards that they look at when they're out of ideas that are full of, well, ideas. Writers block is the woe of every author—the mind-numbing sensation that nothing you write is going to mean anything, and none of your ideas are good. Sometimes it lasts for only a moment, sometimes it lasts for weeks; and though there are some solutions that pull the mind from the painful arena of inactivity, there's nothing that positively works every time.

Sometimes life gets writers block. You're living along at a good steady rate, doing your thing, and suddenly the looming cloud of painful bewilderment moves in, numbing all your emotions. Nothing makes it better. There is no medicinal solution that works. You're doing all the right things, but it doesn't fix the problem. You just have to keep living.

And sometimes, you just have to keep writing, and remember the reason that you love to write. Because, outside of writers block, there is writing; and the words are flying out of your brain faster than you can put them on paper.

And miracle of miracles, you like them.