On Writing When You Feel You Can't

“I don’t know what to write.”

You've got a deadline looming and the cursor just blinks. Mockingly.

Ah, the dreaded creative block.

Days when your usual flow feels like trudging through mud. Days when every word seems to be as awkward as squeezing into clothes two sizes too small. Days when you sit at your desk, but feel like a stranger to your profession.

I say days, but it can last for months, and we don’t talk about it enough. Between all the #GrindNeverStops posts and the ROI chest-thumping, there’s not much room for “Hey, this job is really hard sometimes and my brain feels like a wrung-out sponge.” 

We take inspiration for granted, but it isn’t infinite. Create every day, day after day, month after month, year after year, and eventually, even the deepest wells dry up.

Because that’s what writer’s block actually is.

Creative fatigue.

It’s funny how “I don’t know what to write” often feels like “I don’t know how to write.” But the block isn’t a reflection of your ability. It isn’t inadequacy or failure. It’s human. It’s your mind telling you it needs to recharge. To refill the tank.

George R. R. Martin, with possibly the world’s most famous case of creative block, spoke for every writer who’s ever stared at a blank Google Doc:

“Writing is hard. I mean, I sit there and work at it. Boy, there are days where I get up and say ‘Where the hell did my talent go? Look at this crap that I’m producing here. This is terrible. Look, I wrote this yesterday. I hate this, I hate this.’ And I can see a scene in my head, and when I try to get it down in words on paper, the words are clunky, the scene is not coming across right. So frustrating.”

If one of our generation’s greatest writers feels that way, then you can cut yourself some slack.

You are not alone. You never have been. But unlike him, most of us don’t have the luxury of ignoring deadlines.

It won’t happen if you’re just staring at a blank Word document, willing it to offer answers.

No amount of staring at a screen has ever produced any. The blank page only stares back.

So what do you do?

You could step away. Take a walk. Go for a drive. Pack your bags and travel halfway around the world. Or just let the mind wander instead. Watch people at the mall. Maybe read some weird threads from r/AITA.

You could look at the best stuff you’ve ever written. Remind yourself that you’ve done this before. And you will do it again. 

You could try starting in the middle and working backwards from there. 

You could try setting a timer for 25 minutes on your phone and just doing the word vomit thing until something clicks. 

That’s how you break the block. You work at it. You take it by the jaws and pry it open. 

To all my fellow copywriters out there staring at blank screens: I see you. I've been you. I'll be you again someday.

But we'll keep writing. Because that's what we do.

Not because it’s our job. Because it’s who we are. 

Keep writing, my fellow warriors of the word.