Okay, let’s be blunt. I don’t believe in Writer’s Block.
It’s a myth that came into existence in the 40s. A way to elevate writers into magical creatures who must suffer for their art. It’s only through mental anguish before the artist can truly make something of value.
I politely disagree.
Mechanics don’t get Mechanic’s Block, or teachers Teacher’s Block, or moms Parenting Block.
You show up, do the work, and push through.
But let’s say you’ve visited WebMD and self-diagnosed yourself with WB. You’re experiencing sweating, nausea, vomiting, dry mouth, and an aversion to social interaction because of this so-called WB.
For whatever reason the words just don’t seem to fall from the brain, to the fingers, and onto the page. It feels like pushing a snowball up a hill, in the middle of winter, in your shorts, while wearing ankle weights. No ideas, no passion, nothing, nada, an empty void of writer hell.
It happens, sort of.
So what do we do?