What I Learned From Writer’s Block

The unseen writing blocks that came my way and how I overcame them to finish telling my story

Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash

The first time I experienced writer’s block was when I wanted to write a story about a fly. So, naturally, I decided to work on a script I was meaning to start instead. Then I had it again, and rather than writing my script, I thought it would be a good time to start writing a letter to my pen-pal I had ignored for a couple months. Not surprisingly, writer’s block struck again, so I just went back to the fly story, but instead of writing it, I started drawing it and the whole thing turned more into a comic book than a novella. This trend only happened once, or twice more. Maybe thirty-four more times at most, but the point is…you get the point.

Writer’s block is a bitch.

My first ever attempt at writing fiction.

Interestingly, in each of the aforementioned cases, I experienced a different kind of block. I plan to explore these types and discuss the methods I used to overcome them.

A short intro and literature review

There are loads of stories out there about writer’s block, some claiming to be scientific, and some being scientific and in fact very interesting. I particularly like the latter article, because it offers an understandable introduction to the neuroscience behind writer’s block. Nonetheless, I find that in most cases, such articles focus more on the creative side of writer’s block (or lack thereof), coined as “creation block” as opposed to the frequently occurring fear and perfectionism that prevents writers to…well…write.

Obviously none of those assumptions are wrong, as each case of writer’s block is distinct; however, I find that writer’s block is so commonly reserved as a synonym for the “creation block” mentioned above, that writers’ difficulty in the act of writing is negated, including those with a plethora of ideas who somehow still won’t write.

The danger with this misconception is that those with ideas who cannot write resort to believing that they are simply not meant to be writers.

“Oh you’ve got writer’s block? Don’t worry you’ll get over it at some point and you’ll find the inspiration to write about some idea. Wait, you already know what to write about? And you know what happens in your story? Like mostly everything? Then why can’t you just write it down? You’re a writer, aren’t you?”

I plan to dispel this notion by drawing attention to my own experiences that encompass the many hidden, yet prevalent blocks in our writing.

Fly Story & the too-many-ideas block

In the first case, I wanted to write a story about a fly — don’t ask, I might consider producing the finished comic book, but for now, just go with it. Naturally, I had many ideas about the way I could approach this: the characters that possess qualities of flies, their perspective, how they compare to other dipterous insects, the universe, and of course, the plot. My head was booming with ideas, so I was adamant about not writing until I spent enough time brainstorming, and at least come up with a plot. Eventually, I did, so I started writing.

It’s important to note that this was my first time taking writing seriously, having a clear goal to complete a novella or at least a short story. The first thing I learned from this experience?

Writing is fucking hard.

My appreciation for literature grew in every attempted line — attempted line, mind you, because for the lines I did write, it wouldn’t amount to much. My problem was that I wanted it to be perfect. Every line needed to be poetry. And every line seemed to be pretty good; only that there weren’t many at my rate. I had realised the story, yet found myself incapable of telling it justly. At least not in words. How could I translate all my ideas into written perfection, I wondered, before debating whether writing was really for me. My efforts proving fruitless, led me to shift away from the novella idea and onto the screen, where I started writing a script for another idea I had been brainstorming for a while.

Script & the too-much-planning block

Brainstorming may be an understatement for the process I went through before starting to write…spoiler: that never really happened. I had read countless books on screenwriting, from the superficial, commercially-oriented texts like Blake Snyder’s Save the Cat! to one of my personal favourites, and a book I highly recommend to anyone who is interested in creating stories, Robert McKee’s Story.

Regardless how entertaining I found these books, I had reached the point where I was tired of hearing about how others write stories and just wanted to start writing my own already.

I decided to use one of the methods discussed in many of the screenwriting books I’d read, which involved storyboarding the piece, and laying out cards that represent each scene for every act. I was proud to produce enough scenes, or rather ideas for scenes that I managed to almost fill my whole storyboard. It was only until later that I understood something important about writing on writing:

It’s one thing being able to fit in most great stories into the structure of a storyboard; it’s another to assume that they can be created using the same structure.

I used post-it notes to stick on my white wall for my storyboard. The board starts with 4 Acts for each row, with at least 7 scenes (sticky notes) in each act — though it was recommended to have at least 10 scenes. You can also see some apparent plot holes, a missing final act and lack of a substantive subplot (blue sticky).

I’m not implying storyboarding isn’t for everyone, but it didn’t take long to discover that this process was definitely not for me. Worse, I caught myself using my planning as a form of procrastination. No different from watching countless YouTube video-interviews of your favourite authors to draw inspiration from them — let’s cut the crap: you’re procrastinating. I know because I fall into the same trap too.

But this disillusionment came only after I started writing this article; what I noticed then was that I had spent so much time trying to plan my whole story out, with certain expectations for every part that I barely wrote a few pages before losing interest in the thing altogether. I was simply dried out.

Writer’s block was inevitable after I felt like I had no more ideas to input, not ignoring the fact that my ideas thus far weren’t that great either. This reminded me of something Stephen King said about writing ideas down, arguing that the act effectively immortalizes bad ideas. After this incident, I learned that I’m definitely the type of writer that prefers brainstorming inside my head, holding onto only the best ideas I keep thinking about.

Letter & the no-purpose block

In short, I had no solid purpose of writing that letter, other than the pressure of having to reply. I had no idea what to write about.

I felt the last couple of months were fruitless, with no real story to tell. I had failed in school, failed in my personal life and the expectations I had about my future prospects were shattered. I thought perhaps the best way I could express myself was not by explaining what happened in my life, but instead what I was doing when I avoided my life: writing. Daydreaming, storytelling, character-building, plot-twisting…just…thinking. About life and far beyond it.

It was at that point that I went back to the fly story.

The first time I finished a story from start the very finish. These are a few randomly selected excerpts from the story. There are few things that make you feel as proud as when writing those last two words.

I already had a story to tell, but now I had a mission with a deadline to post my story to my pen-pal. It’s not that I sat down and finished it in a night, but at least I got into a steady rhythm to produce enough everyday. A handful of cards and doodles later, I had officially written my first story. Right up to that wonderful two-syllabled bell that rings louder than an Orthodox Church in a Greek wedding: THE END. That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship I had with writing (and probably the end of my pen-pal friendship…yeah, I never heard back from her again…)

If this experience taught me anything, it’s that I was made to tell stories. No matter if they appeared in the form of a poem, book, script or drawing, I love thinking of the lives of others and putting all the possibilities out there. There was no way I was going to stop believing in my ability to tell stories simply because I sometimes faced trouble finding the means to tell them.

Western script & the unexplainable block

My most recent encounter with cock-block er… I mean writer’s block was just a couple weeks ago when I started writing my first Western screenplay. I know, I know… what more could I possibly add to this genre, right? Well, I’ll tell you: a lot. So I opened a new document, selected my Courier font, and set my laptop to make a sound every time I pressed a key to replicate the feeling of a typewriter — hey, if it helps, it helps.

Next, I sat that there, waiting. Waiting for…what? I didn’t know. What I did know was that every time I wanted to write something new, the beginning would always be the hardest; so I told myself, Fuck it, if your story’s so good, if this is gonna be the next best Western the world’s gonna see, then fucking tell me what you see already! And that’s exactly what I did.

I started writing everything I saw, and writing down every detail in the purest sense, paying no attention to structure, format, style, or anything that would prevent me from immediately writing down my story as I told it to myself. There was no filter, and no editing involved, which brings me to my next point: don’t read it. Trust me, it’s dog shit. And you’re wasting time. I’m embarrassed for sharing an excerpt of my first draft, but it’s just the first draft. It hardly makes sense, and seems irrelevant to the story; but what matters is that it got me to put words on paper, and my story was no longer lost in the fjords of my mind.

An excerpt from the beginning of my script’s very first draft.

I ended up spending less time thinking about my writing and more time thinking about my story, and that’s exactly why a first draft exists. A strong motivation for getting it on paper was the thought that writing it and not writing it was the difference between the world ever knowing about this story and…not. Steven Pressfield’s The War of Art was a great read that has persistently resonated in the back of my mind every time I hold up writing or procrastinate. I’m not sure why I care, or why I think it matters, but the idea that the world won’t ever get to hear my story if I don’t write it down really bugs me. So just get it on paper and edit later.

Of course, starting is one thing; finishing is another… I have a confession. The reason I’m writing this article right now is because I’m experiencing writer’s block once again, and have yet to finish my Western. I started writing it and consistently spent time on it for about a week before leaving for a planned trip. Upon my return, I found myself incapable of reviving the momentum that was previously so vigorous.

I couldn’t explain it. I still knew what I wanted to write about but never restricted myself to a concrete storyboard, I still thought the story was engaging and interesting enough to tell, I had already written a satisfactory amount for the time limit I was given, and I even wrote many things on the side to keep my writing muscles active, yet I could not face my screen to continue telling my story.

Maybe that was the problem. It wasn’t my story anymore. Before starting my script, I had spent an exhausting amount of time with my characters, building rapport and learning about their past. And now, all of a sudden, after a week’s absence, I expected them to come to me and spill their darkest secrets before catching up first. Deep characters require investment.

Honestly, this theory only occurred to me as I write this article, which leads me to my next insight that I’ll let Charles Bukowski say,

Writing about a writer’s block is better than not writing at all.

I was skeptical when I first heard this quote, since I equated writing about anything else as another form of procrastination. And perhaps it is, albeit good writing practice. In any case, I find that delving deep into my writer’s block to uncover what prevents me from telling a story is worth a try. Because if I don’t tell my story, no one else ever will.

Summary

Let’s go over the different types of writer’s block I’ve encountered, so that you may find some solace:

1. The first case dealt with too many ideas. It’s great that you’ve found an area of interest you’re willing to write about; and brainstorming always helps. But try to keep your thoughts organized so that you don’t get overwhelmed with thoughts that prevent you from writing, including the thought that it’s got to be perfect. On the other hand, don’t start writing unless you’ve grasped a good starting point so that you’ve got a lead to follow through your draft. Organize your thoughts.
2. The second case essentially takes 1’s advice, and gives it steroids. Don’t overdo the whole organization tip. Keep your process in balance, but always relative to your natural writing process. What’s your process? Easy. It’s the environment you set yourself in at your most productive writing sessions. Everyone’s process is different, so there’s clearly a grey area here, but the best advice I can give you is to at least have a plan of where to start, without restricting yourself to expectations you may have before writing. After all, writing is a journey, and you best take advantage of those bursts of unexpected inspiration. This is what leads to authentic and more personal storytelling. Respect your writing process.
3. In the third case, there was a lack of purpose. Some write to express themselves, while others write to express something important to them. Whatever you’re writing, make sure there’s a reason behind it, and if you can’t find one, then either create a reason, or scrap it altogether — there’s no point otherwise. Write with purpose.
4. In the last case, I didn’t give myself the opportunity to rebuild my relationship with my writing. Whether you’re a published author or high-school blogger, your writing requires investment. That could mean investing in life to break away from expectations and gain inspiration, or invest in time to develop already blooming ideas. On a side note, don’t fall into the naive idea, thinking you can’t write. You can. You just choose not to invest in a specific piece, and that’s okay. But in the meantime, try writing about something else, including your writer’s block, and you just might unlock the source of your problem. Invest in your writing.

Writing isn’t for everyone. I have some friends who can’t write a Thank-you email without my providing thorough consultation and a written first draft. Writing is for you, however. I know this, because the fact that you’ve felt pressured enough into reading this after wanting to write, and facing some hidden obstacle is evidence enough that you care about your writing. It’s evidence enough that you are destined to be a writer. I’m not saying that it’ll get easier, but I will say that it does happen…to everyone. And if I can give you one last piece of advice, it’s that you should never let anyone, including yourself, convince you that you’re not meant to be a writer.

You are a writer.