I stared at the blank screen for twenty minutes this morning before I finally admitted it: I was blocked. Again.
Not the “I don’t know what happens next” kind of blocked. Not even the “this scene feels wrong” kind. This was the soul-deep, brain-fog, “why do I even write?” kind of block that makes you question your entire calling.
If you’ve been there, you know. And if you haven’t been there yet, friend, buckle up—because writer’s block is as inevitable as coffee stains on your favorite writing shirt.
But here’s what I’ve learned after years of wrestling with creative resistance: not all writer’s block is created equal. And the solution that works for one type might make another type infinitely worse.
So let’s talk about the different faces of writer’s block, the tools that actually help (not just the ones that sound good on Instagram), and how to know when to push through versus when to step back and rest.
The Three Types of Writer’s Block
The Plot Problem Block
You know your characters. You know the general direction. But you have absolutely no idea what happens next, or the scene you’re writing feels fundamentally broken, and you can’t figure out why.
This isn’t a creativity problem—it’s a structural problem. Your story has a plot hole, a character motivation issue, or a logic gap that your subconscious mind is refusing to write past. Your creative instincts are trying to tell you something is wrong with the architecture of your story, and until you fix it, you’re stuck.
Breaking Through the Plot Wall
I’ll be honest—I don’t often hit this type of block because I’m a heavy plotter. I outline extensively before I even begin drafting, so by the time I sit down to write the actual scenes, most of the structural issues have been worked out. But I recognize that not everyone works this way, and even plotters don’t all plot to the same depth.
If you’re a plotter who works with a skeleton outline, you may need to step back and flesh it out more to resolve the plot problem. Add more detail to the scenes that aren’t working. Dig deeper into character motivations. Map out the cause-and-effect chain more thoroughly. Sometimes what feels like writer’s block is actually under-planning, and giving yourself permission to return to the outline can solve it.
And if you’re a pantser? I know this feels like betrayal. But sometimes you need to zoom out and see the skeleton of your story to find where the bone is broken. You don’t have to outline the whole book—just the section that’s giving you trouble.
Talking it out can also work miracles. Explain your plot to someone—or to your cat, or to your voice recorder. The act of verbalizing often reveals the problem. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been mid-explanation to my husband when I suddenly stop and say, “Oh. Wait. That doesn’t make sense at all.”
Another strategy is to ask “What if?” twenty times. Write down twenty different directions the story could go. Most will be terrible. One might be brilliant. Several will help you realize what you DON’T want, which clarifies what you DO want. And sometimes reading your genre can reset your story instincts—a few chapters of a favorite author can remind you of the rhythm and conventions you’ve temporarily forgotten.
When to Push, When to Rest
If you have a deadline or if avoiding the problem is making the block worse, push through. Sometimes you have to write a terrible scene just to get to the other side of it. But if you’ve been staring at the same problem for days and you’re going in circles, step away for 24-48 hours. Your subconscious needs space to work.
The Perfectionism Block
Every sentence you write feels wrong. You delete more than you keep. You rewrite the first chapter seventeen times instead of moving forward. Nothing is ever good enough.
Your internal editor has hijacked your creative process. You’re trying to write and edit simultaneously, which is like trying to drive with one foot on the gas and one on the brake. Perfectionism isn’t about the quality of your work—it’s about fear. Fear that you’re not good enough, that your story doesn’t matter, that you’ll be judged and found lacking. This is the block I most intentionally try to be aware of and avoid, though it still creeps in at times.
Fighting the Perfectionism Monster
Timed sprints with no editing allowed are my go-to weapon here. Set a timer for 15-25 minutes. Write without stopping, without backspacing, without rereading. It will feel terrible. Do it anyway. The goal isn’t to write well—it’s to write at all.
Give yourself explicit permission to write the “ugly draft.” Tell yourself, “This is the version no one will ever see.” It takes the pressure off. Sometimes I’ll even change my medium—if I normally type, I’ll handwrite. If I normally write at my desk, I’ll write on my phone in a coffee shop. Breaking the pattern can break the perfectionism loop.
When I’m really stuck in perfectionism, I focus on dialogue only. Just the conversation between characters—no description, no tags, just the words they say. It’s less pressure because dialogue feels more forgiving somehow, and it often gets me unstuck enough to add the rest later.
And I repeat this like a mantra: You can’t edit a blank page. A messy draft is infinitely better than no draft.
When to Push, When to Rest
Push through almost always. Perfectionism is a liar, and the only way to defeat it is to write anyway. The breakthrough happens on the other side of the resistance. The one exception is when perfectionism is actually masking burnout, or when you’ve been grinding so hard that you’ve lost all joy in writing. Sometimes, the perfectionism is your brain’s way of saying, “I need a break.”
The Empty Tank Block
You sit down to write and... nothing. Not writer’s block in the “I don’t know what to write” sense, but in the “I have no creative energy whatsoever” sense. It’s not about the story—it’s about you.
You’re depleted. Creatively, emotionally, physically, or spiritually (or any combination of these). And here’s the truth: depletion rarely comes in just one form. When you’re running on empty, it’s usually multiple types hitting at once, which makes the tank even harder to refill. You’ve been pouring out without filling back up, and now the well is dry. This is the block that no amount of discipline or technique can fix because it’s not a craft problem—it’s a capacity problem.
This is where I normally find myself. Between my author career, publishing books and writing on Substack, serving in an apartment ministry in our community and starting a mom’s ministry at our church, and taking care of my husband and our three boys, it doesn’t take much for my tank to be depleted. Life is full and good, but full nonetheless.
Refilling the Creative Well
When I recognize this block in myself, the first thing I do is consume instead of create. I fill the creative well by reading books (especially outside my genre), watching movies, visiting a museum, taking a nature walk, and listening to music. I let myself be inspired without the pressure to produce.
I also check my physical needs. Am I sleeping enough? Eating regularly? Moving my body? Drinking water? Creative energy requires physical energy. You can’t write from an empty vessel. And I examine my emotional state honestly. Am I carrying stress, grief, anxiety, or depression? Those things take energy—energy that would otherwise fuel my creativity. Sometimes I need to address the life issue before I can address the writing issue.
As Christians, we’re called to rest. Sometimes writer’s block is God’s way of saying, “You need to stop striving and just be still with Me for a while.” Practicing Sabbath rest isn’t laziness—it’s obedience. And when I can’t handle writing a novel, I do something easy and creative instead. Write a poem. Journal. Doodle. Make a playlist for my characters. Color in an adult coloring book. Let myself play without pressure.
When to Push, When to Rest
Almost never push through this one. This type of block isn’t about discipline—it’s about depletion. Pushing through will only make it worse and potentially lead to burnout. Take the break. Rest is not laziness; it’s stewardship. You can’t write from an empty tank, and trying to do so will only damage your relationship with writing.
The Practical Tools I Actually Use
Beyond understanding the type of block I’m facing, I have a toolkit of specific strategies I return to again and again. These aren’t Instagram-worthy productivity hacks—they’re the unglamorous, practical things that actually work.
The “Write Anything” Practice is simple: Open a fresh document and write about anything except your stuck project. Write about your day, your frustrations, your grocery list, your fears about writing. Often, after 10-15 minutes of this, the creative faucet turns back on, and you can return to your project.
The Scene Skip reminds me that I don’t have to write in order. If I’m stuck on a scene, I put a note like [SCENE: They argue about the secret] and move on to the next scene I’m excited about. I can come back and fill in the gap later.
The Interview involves interviewing my character as if they’re sitting across from me. I ask them what they want, what they’re afraid of, what they’re not telling me. Sometimes the block is because I don’t know my character well enough yet, and this conversation reveals what’s missing.
The Timer Trick works because I tell myself I only have to write for 10 minutes. That’s it. When the timer goes off, I can stop guilt-free. Nine times out of ten, I keep writing because starting is the hardest part.
The Sensory Reset means changing my environment entirely. Different room, different coffee shop, different music, different time of day. Sometimes my brain just needs a pattern interrupt.
And finally, The Prayer Pause—when I stop trying to force it and pray instead. I ask God to give me the words, to show me the story, to help me steward this creative gift well. Sometimes the block is spiritual, and the breakthrough requires surrender.
The Wisdom of Discernment
Knowing when to push versus when to rest is the hardest discernment for any writer. I still get it wrong sometimes. But here’s what I’ve learned through years of trial and error.
Signs You Should Push Through
Push through when the resistance feels like fear or perfectionism, when you have a deadline and the stakes are real, or when avoiding the work is making you feel worse. Push when you know what to write but don’t feel like writing it, when the block is about discipline rather than depletion, or when you’re in a season where writing is your primary focus.
Signs You Need to Rest
Rest when the resistance feels like exhaustion or emptiness, when you’ve been grinding without breaks for weeks or months, or when physical or mental health issues are present. Rest when life circumstances are demanding all your energy, when you’ve lost all joy in writing (not just this project), when your creativity is depleted and you need to refill the well, or when God is clearly calling you to a season of rest.
The wisdom is in knowing the difference. And sometimes, you only know in hindsight. That’s okay. Give yourself grace.
My Current Reality
I’ll be honest: I’m writing this article on a day when I’m experiencing the Empty Tank Block myself.
Between finishing The Salty Pages Collection, completing my Christmas romantic comedy Blue Stone Christmas, launching my Substack, building business systems for multiple income streams, and just... you know, life... I’ve been running on fumes creatively.
So this morning, when I sat down to work on my next novel and felt nothing, I recognized it. Empty tank. I’m not going to push through this one. Instead, I’m giving myself permission to write this article (which is easier and more energizing right now), take a long walk this afternoon, and read a novel tonight that has nothing to do with my genre.
Tomorrow, I’ll check back in with my creative energy. If it’s still empty, I’ll rest another day. If the tank has started to fill, I’ll write.
This is what sustainable creativity looks like for me—and it’s taken years to get here. Years of pushing through when I should have rested, years of resting when I should have pushed, years of learning the difference.
Your Turn
So, friend, which type of block are you facing right now?
Is it a plot problem that needs problem-solving? A perfectionism trap that needs defiance? Or an empty tank that needs rest and refilling?
Take a minute to diagnose it honestly. Then choose one tool from this article and try it today.
And remember: Writer’s block isn’t a sign that you’re not a “real writer” or that you’ve lost your gift. It’s just a signal—a message from your brain, your body, or your spirit that something needs attention.
Listen to the signal. Respond with wisdom. And keep writing when you can, resting when you must.
The words will come. They always do.
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