Writer’s Block

Ah, writer’s block—my old frenemy. If you’re reading this, chances are you’ve been there too: staring at a blinking cursor so long it feels like it’s searing straight through your soul. Meanwhile, my characters, whom I usually can’t get to shut up, have all piled into Stevie Rae’s Cocktail Lounge (aka the mental dive bar inside my brain) and are refusing to clock in for their shifts.

It’s always the same. They’re loud as a carnival barker at a midnight freak show when I don’t want them yammering away. But the second I want them to earn their keep on the page? Crickets. They’re in the lounge, sipping margaritas and giving me the finger.

So, what’s a poor author to do when her imaginary friends go on strike? Let me tell you what this author does—maybe it’ll help you corral your unruly crew, too.

Rule Number One: Show Up, Even if They Don’t

First and foremost, I carve out a sacred block of time every single day to write—whether the muse is whispering sweet nothings or ghosting me entirely. My husband knows this block of time is non-negotiable. He’s a smart man; he values his life.

During my writing time, I shut off the world. Phone? Face down. Notifications? Off. Door? Closed. And then… I stare at that blinking cursor. Sometimes the magic happens right away. Sometimes it doesn’t happen at all. The point is, I show up. Because plot bunnies are stubborn little monsters, but they’re also predictable: if you ignore them long enough, they party; if you sit there long enough, they get curious and come out to see what you’re up to.

Rule Number Two: Embrace the Sprint

When the words really refuse to come, I break out one of my favorite tricks: the writing sprint.

A writing sprint is exactly what it sounds like. I set a timer—ten, fifteen minutes, tops. Then I write like my keyboard is on fire. It doesn’t have to be good. It doesn’t even have to make sense. I might describe the exact shade of lint on my carpet, list my grocery needs, or babble about how much I hate writer’s block.

Sometimes I rope in a friend to sprint with me (misery loves company, after all). We set our timers, yell “GO!” in unison, and race our keyboards until the alarm drags us back to reality. There’s something about knowing you’re not alone in the slog that makes it a little more bearable—and sometimes, even fun.

Rule Number Three: Write Blind

If the sprint doesn’t do the trick, I pull out my secret weapon: blind writing.

Yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like. I toss a towel, blanket, or even a hoodie over my monitor so I can’t see a blessed thing. Then, I write. And write. And write. No backspacing, no second-guessing, no stopping to fix typos or check if that sentence even makes grammatical sense.

This trick works wonders on my stubborn plot bunnies. They know I can’t police them mid-sentence. So they get bold. They spill secrets. They monologue. They throw out plot twists I didn’t even know were coming. And when I finally peel the blanket off the screen? Pure, unfiltered chaos. Usually riddled with typos that make me look like I typed with my elbows. But hidden in that mess are gems—snippets of dialogue, raw emotion, honest thoughts from the characters that I couldn’t have forced out any other way.

It’s like solving a drunken word puzzle: what on earth did I mean when I typed “he stabbed the pineapple with betrayal”? Was that supposed to be “he stabbed the pirate”? Who knows! But it’s fun, and more often than not, it cracks the block wide open.

Rule Number Four: Never, Ever Stop for Too Long

This one’s maybe the most important—and the hardest-earned lesson of my writing life: don’t stop. Ever.

I did. I let writer’s block win once upon a time. What started as a dry spell turned into a drought that lasted years. I let the blank page scare me into silence. And oh, do I regret it. Because guess what? Writer’s block doesn’t get smaller when you hide from it—it gets bigger. Hungrier. Scarier.

So now, even when the words come out crooked and tangled and embarrassing, I keep writing. Some days it’s a sprint. Some days it’s blind writing. Some days it’s a stubborn stand-off between me and the cursor. But every word—good, bad, or just plain nonsense—is a reminder that this is who I am: a writer. A maker of stories. A herder of plot bunnies who refuse to be herded.

In Summary, Dear Writer-Friend…

If you’re battling writer’s block right now, here’s my pep talk:

• Show up for your stories, even when they don’t show up for you.

• Sprint your heart out, alone or with a buddy.

• Write blind and laugh at the chaos later.

• And above all: keep going. Don’t let the block win.

Your characters will eventually wander out of that cocktail lounge to see what you’re up to. And when they do? You’ll be there—cursor blinking, fingers ready, and nowhere for the plot bunnies to hide.

Now, go forth and conquer that blank page. I’ll be here, wrestling my stubborn buggers right alongside you.