Writer’s Block is an excuse.
Admit it. You use the term when you’d rather be doing something else: Napping, watching sports highlights, painting your nails, seeing what that person you knew five years ago for one month is up to on Facebook, or falling into the black hole of Netflix suggestions.
“I’m suffering major writer’s block,” you say to whoever will listen and be in awe because, well, you’re a writer. Or you say it to yourself to make you seem like more of a writer. Because that makes sense?
Whatever the reason, stop it.
And write some more.
It doesn’t have to be great. It doesn’t even have to be good. Think the 10,000 words Stephen King wrote last Tuesday were good? Maybe they were. Maybe they were dog shit. But he wrote them. And he’s Stephen King. And always has been.
See: It’s about forming a habit. The act of sitting down and writing words is the habit you need. Who cares if the words are horrible? You’re writing. You’re doing what you want to do.
I have thirty-three drafts here on Medium. I have forty-one notebooks of incomplete short stories, plans for novels, and societal observations attempting to be essays. I have two novels waiting on my Macbook to be edited and self-published. And I have a moleskin notebook of horrible poetry.
I’m writing this right now because I have a personal goal: Post something to Medium every day for the next month.
Writing this wasn’t my first choice. But the first choice just wasn’t panning out. Not because of Writer’s Block. But because my mind — for whatever reason I don’t want to sort out at the moment — wasn’t there. But I still need to write.
So: Here I am.
You should take the same approach.
I’m not a good writer.
And the world needs more of them.