When the Words Won’t Come

I sit at my computer, fiddling with the typeface. I capitalize a word, delete it, and then write it again. I jump onto another website — just for research — and then jump back.

There is nothing on my screen but a blank page.

Sometimes in art, as in life, there are times when those things that once seemed easy become incredibly difficult. The tasks that once felt like breathing become more like drowning — like sucking in air through a lung full of water.

Sometimes writing is hard.

And sometimes the words won’t come.

This is my deepest fear as a writer — and I’m sure I’m not the only one. How can I be? There are millions of people in this world, each one unique, and yet I’m sure I’m not the first (or the last) person on earth to feel that familiar tingle of fear when my fingers touch the keyboard.

But why does this happen? For me — and I can only speak for myself — the answer is multilayered and complex. There is the burnout, of course. I’ve spent so much time peddling my writing, selling passionless words for literal pennies, that the act itself has become a chore. Another is perfectionism. I am too often conned into believing my words must be perfect in order to be ever good enough.

Yet another reason is imposter syndrome. Have you heard of it? I hadn’t until recently, but I felt its effects long before I knew it had a name. In its most basic form, imposter syndrome is that voice in the back of your head, telling you that you aren’t a real writer … whatever that means. That you aren’t successful enough to call yourself a writer, or that you don’t make enough money, perhaps. Sometimes it says sneakier things — that you don’t write often enough to claim the title … or maybe that calling yourself an author when you are “only” self-published is nothing more than vanity. It isn’t real.

It’s hard to silence that voice. It is hard to solve any of these problems — and none of them will fix themselves overnight. Ultimately, this post isn’t the place for solutions … though I may address each separately at another point in time. For now, it feels like enough to simply acknowledge the problem, to wave my hand in its general direction and say, “I see you.” I will, however, leave you with a few brief thoughts.

The first is the simplest, but also, perhaps, the most profound. It’s okay to struggle. Struggling does not define your ability as a writer, nor does it define whether or not you are a writer at all.

And you ARE a writer … whatever your head (or anyone else) says. Do you enjoy writing? You are a writer. Do you like crafting stories? Writer. Do you thrive on explaining facts or events or what-have-you through prose? Writer. Really, all the definition requires is your own desire, as well as one crucial element. You write.

It doesn’t matter how little or how much. Sure, you will improve quicker the more frequently you put words on a page. But expectorating words at a higher rate does not a writer make. You might not have time to write every day — or even every week. And that’s okay.

Maybe you are like me, writing words you don’t feel passionate about in order to make a paycheck, and suffering from burnout because of it. I hear a lot of people say that you shouldn’t make a career out of a passion for just that reason — but I respectfully disagree. Someday I hope to make a full-time living writing and editing things I actually care about — but for now, making a small income doing something I’m good at is enough. It doesn’t have to be all sunshine and daffodils to be worth it. A little rain doesn’t ruin any possibility of good.

The rhythmic clack of keys picks up, sharp staccato notes punctuating the silence. I type. I fill the page with black and white. The rhythm slows, then picks up, then slows again. It isn’t ceaseless, but it continues. It stops and starts and stops again … but it moves forward.

I remember that old anecdote about the tortoise and the hare. Slow and steady wins the race.

So what do I do when the words won’t come?

I take a deep breath. I break paragraphs down into sentences, and sentences down into words. I struggle. I push forward. I embrace the fear, and simultaneously reject it.

And I write on.

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Did you enjoy this post? Check out my YA fantasy novel, Caladrius Dreams, or my newest writing project, Sunlit Stories! You can also find out more about my editing services here.

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All images in this post are from Unspash.