Dealing With Writer’s Block
What Three Crippling Thoughts of Writer’s Block Taught Me
It has been nearly ten months since my last Medium article, and I have accumulated 16 drafts on my Stories page. With an abundance of story ideas and a bunch of half-written articles, I reflect on 2020 and ask myself, what happened?
My first few articles of 2020 did reasonably well on Medium, and as a beginner on this platform, it encouraged me to keep pushing forward with my ideas. However, when the stress of COVID-19 came, I found this newfound anxiety to be crippling my creativity.
This became my first encounter with writer’s block. A phenomenon that is defined as a “psychological inhibition preventing a writer from proceeding with a piece.” And from a basic google search, it seems like writer’s block is a fairly common dilemma. The term first appeared in the 19th century when a poet named Samuel Taylor Coleridge described an “indefinite, indescribable terror” at not being able to write.
Having something in common with a famous poet sounds cool, but it didn’t give me much comfort. My head was spinning with three intrusive thoughts that created fear, self-criticism, and doubt.
1. “You aren’t credible enough”
This line was repeated in my mind every month and prevented me from publishing all of my drafts. The topics that interest me have to do with psychology, and I was terrified of missing a crucial piece of information in my articles. How can I show credibility if I miss something?
I’ve come to recognize that this line of thinking is deeply tied to my desire for perfectionism. So I had to practice a technique called radical acceptance. This means accepting what I have written and what I have missed as objectively as possible. For example, I would say, “I forgot to talk about this point,” instead of, “I forgot to talk about this point, therefore I’m not a credible writer.” The former statement states what happened, whereas the latter attaches my reaction to what happened. With radical acceptance, I practice being mindful of my subjective reactions because those reactions only elongate the tension that arises from a forgotten piece of information.
2. “What are you trying to sound like?”
This thought kept me from finding my voice. When I am not thinking about an article for Medium, I am writing academic papers that generally rip personal experiences out of the writing process. I became stuck with uncertain thoughts about how I want to be perceived. Do I become unprofessional the second I bleed personal stories into my writing? Do I sound stupid? Where are all my sources?
This line of thinking entrapped me into stigmas, and I was fighting to stay in my comfort zone. I am in the process of earning a Doctorate in psychology, so what doctor writes personal sounding articles? Do I even know how to make my personal voice heard? To help get through this tension, I had to do some reflection. I recognized that my perception of what a doctor should sound like was tied to how society perceives them and that I needed to get comfortable being uncomfortable if I want to make strides in my writing. I accepted that writing about personal experiences does not mean I will be any less of a psychologist and it’s okay to not cite a million sources at the end of my paper.
3. “Is this even worth it?”
To paint a better picture, the last article I wrote was my second most popular piece. I received over 300 views, with a large portion stemming from Facebook shares. Now my top story received over 500 views and earned $20. So I thought I would land around $10 when the life cycle of my most recent article ended. Unfortunately, the article ended its run with only ten cents in earnings.
So I sat in front of my Home Screen, inundated with Medium articles describing their success at making a thousand dollars or more on this platform, and there I was, with 10 cents. It didn’t feel fair, and I was exhausted after putting a decent amount of effort into my writing. This question of whether writing more content was worth it or not plagued all my outlines. I wanted to take on larger mental health topics, but would it be worth 10 cents?
Behind this part of my writer’s block was a question of values. I had to sit down and set my intentions. Am I writing to make some money, or am I writing because I enjoy it? This time around, I’m going to avoid those wonderful thousand dollar success stories and stick to writing about the things I love. If I make ten more cents, I’ll enjoy a candy bar the next time I see a vending machine.
All in all, writer’s block sucks. There is no other way to say it; you feel inadequate and unhappy. Throw this on top of a rather traumatic 2020, and it can be hard to snap out of it. However, with the right mix of reflection, self-compassion, and a lot of patience, you’ll eventually pull yourself out of this indefinite, indescribable terror.
