A lot of people like to say that they don’t believe in writer’s block—but I absolutely do.
That isn’t to say that I believe writer’s block should stop you. I’m not saying you need to wait until conditions are perfectly right before you can sit down and tell your story.
But there are times when the stories flow, and times when they don’t.
Everyone knows the feeling of being stuck—whether you are stuck on how to tell your story in your business and marketing, whether you’re stuck on ideas for your novel, whether you’re stuck on new content for your social media.
Today I want to talk about getting stuck specifically in telling your story: when you sit down to work on your book, your speech, your marketing and you feel like you’re pushing up against a wall.
This is totally normal.
So if you have ever felt this way—if you’re feeling this way now—start by understanding that you’re doing okay. It’s 100% normal to feel like you’re tangled up in your story and you can’t pick apart the threads. We’re going to figure this out together.
Step One: Notice What’s really going on
The first step when you feel stuck in your story is to try to figure out why.
In fact, before you read any further, let’s do a little exercise. Take a deep breath, close your eyes,* then sit in silence and pay close attention to your mind and body.
(* Rather, read the following instructions and then close your eyes)
Ask:
- What voices echo in your mind when you sit down to write?
- What emotions do you feel?
- Where in your body do you feel them?
I’m serious. Take a minute to visualize exactly what and how “having writer’s block” or “being stuck” feels to you. This will give you important data when it comes to figuring out what to do about it.
Step Two: Tune Out the Voices
People get stuck for all kinds of reasons, but today, I’m going to talk about one of the biggest ones I see: You’ve let somebody get into your head.
It’s all good, everyone does it.
But when you’re trying to detangle your story, the last thing you need is somebody else’s voice gumming up the works.
I love to tell people how important it is to write their story with the audience in mind. I stand by that. And, I would add that there are times when you need to clear them out and just let the story flow.
Understanding how other people will receive your story is a critical part of connecting with the audience: you have to know what the audience wants to hear in order to craft your story in a way that it lands powerfully.
But when you’re first writing—when you’re first drafting—you need to get them out of your head. Your story needs room to breathe, and it’ll never get that room if you’re spending all of your energy worrying about the people who might hear it.
So. Who are those voices?
Your Audience
Are you worried about what your audience will think? Are you second-guessing whether or not the story you’re trying to tell will be valuable?
Have they heard this already? Is this too close to something else I’ve already said? Is this relatable? Is this too far off from the type of thing I normally talk about? Will they understand why this is important? What will they think of me if I tell them this?
When you’re stuck because you’re worried about your audience, give yourself permission to play right now without worrying about the ROI. Tell yourself that this is just a first draft—maybe you’ll use it later, maybe you won’t.
If it’s not a good fit for your audience, they don’t have to actually see it.
But…
Maybe the solution isn’t to hide parts of your story from your audience. Maybe you need to actually trust them more. Trust them to follow you into something that’s a little off-kilter. Trust them to want to know the whole you and not just the you that’s packaged up for public consumption.
Your Competition
Maybe you were scrolling Instagram right before you sat down to write and saw someone you admire sharing their story in a powerful way, and all of a sudden you’ve run smack into a mental wall.
Wow, that was so good, who are you to try to top that? You really think your story is that powerful? You really think there’s room for you in the market? I mean, just look at what they’ve got going on. You’re not a fraction of the writer or performer they are.
Comparisonitis is the thief of joy, my friends. We all know this. Yet it’s so easy to let others’ successes get in the way of your own creativity.
The best way to deal with this is to practice keeping your eyes on your own paper—especially when you’re in that fragile creative state where you can be vulnerable to comparison. Don’t scroll before you create. Be mindful of how you take breaks, and what shifts your energy.
That can help keep that voice from popping up in the first place. And if you’ve already got a voice crowding in, combat it by going back to your why. Why does telling your story matter so much to you? Why does it matter that your audience hears it?
Use that why as a torch to cut through the noise and light your way through your story.
Your Loved Ones
This can be huge, especially if you’re telling a story that’s particularly vulnerable. Your spouse might see it. Your friends. Your parents. Your kids.
What are they going to think when they read about your moment of failure or indecision or vulnerability?
This last one can be particularly hard for me—especially anytime I share something related to my eye injury. There’s always a voice in my head that says, So-and-so is going to read this, and haven’t they been through enough? Do you really need to remind them about this horrible thing?
A few months ago, I was hesitating over sharing this post on Instagram. I knew it was powerful, and I wanted to say it. But I also knew that my husband scrolls the old IG throughout the day to unwind, and we both still have a lot of unhealed grief.
I kept imagining him taking a break from work to innocently look at F1 and funny cat memes, and stumbling across a reminder of one of the worst things we’ve been through together. I knew how much I would spiral if that happened to me.
So…
I blocked his account. 😂
Just for the day, just until we could talk about it together.
If you’re worried about what your loved ones might think, maybe you need to block them from ever seeing it—or, maybe you need to call that person up and talk about it in person before the story drops in their lap.
Internalizing other people’s opinions just builds a cage around your own voice. If you feel like this is what’s happening to you, I challenge you to identify exactly who it is inside your head and figure out what exactly you need to do to quiet them during this part of the process.
But not all the voices in your head belong to someone else…
The Voice That’s Keeping You Small
This is the voice that says nobody wants to hear what you have to say. That writing a book is for other people —people who are smarter, better connected, more famous.
People with a story worth telling.
That voice actually isn’t acting maliciously. What I’ve learned over the years is that voice is trying to protect you. It’s looking at the risk that you want to take in telling your story and saying, “Ooh girl, are you sure? That’s quite the limb to go out on. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
That voice wants you to stay comfortable, safe, and warm. To not have to experience the inevitable emotional roller coaster that comes with sharing your story.
Because that voice isn’t wrong. When you share your story it will feel amazingly cathartic—but there’s always a flip side of that coin.
Your story might not land the way that you want, or get the reception you were hoping for. Maybe the person you were hoping would hear it instead dismisses it—even if hundreds of others have applauded it.
I’ve told successful stories and I’ve told flops, and I’ve had this conversation with authors, business owners, and entrepreneurs who are far more successful than me. And we’ve all found the same thing: no matter how successful or how much of a “failure” your story is, it will be an emotional roller coaster.
So thank that voice for trying to protect you from the roller coaster, and decide to take the ride anyway.
The Voice You Do Want in Your Head
If you allow any voice in your head, channel the voice of Future You.
The You you want to be a year from now, five years from now, ten years from now.
Imagine that person standing over your shoulder or sitting beside your desk, saying:
“I’m so glad you’re sitting down to finally tell this story. I know you don’t see it now, but putting it out into the world had such an incredible ripple effect—it brought opportunities you can’t imagine, but which I can clearly see. So be strong. Be sure. And know that I’m so proud of how brave you’re about to be.”
In order to tune into that voice, you have to tune out all the rest.
That’s where this fabulous exercise comes in!
In Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott writes that when she finds herself stuck because of the voices in her head, she imagines them as tiny mice on her desk. She visualizes herself taking a glass jar and picking up each of those mice by its tail. She gives each mouse a name—doubt, imposter syndrome, fear of my mother reading this—then drops it into the jar and sets the jar outside her room.
I love this exercise because if you have a voice in your head that’s getting in the way of your work, it’s unlikely to ever go away. But if you can name it and drop it into a proverbial jar, you can turn the volume down on it substantially.
So go get rid of those voices and start writing. I have faith in you.
And your Future You does, too.
Ready to get unstuck?
This month’s masterclass is about getting things flowing again in your story.