I have spent most of my years as a writer struggling with the blank page.
I used to face horrible paralysis when I sat down to write new words. I would procrastinate. I would shame myself for procrastinating. I would procrastinate some more.
Writing is a really vulnerable act and 99% of the time what we put down on the page isn’t going to fulfill the vision of where we eventually want the story to be. When we commit the raw, messy words of a first draft down, we have to admit that in the future we’re probably going to change many (even most) of them—which makes us feel like the words we’re putting put down are wrong—and as a reformed perfectionist, that used to terrify me.
But recently, I released my fear of the blank page.
Now that I have two complete books behind me, I’ve proven to myself that first drafts and blank pages don’t have to be something I’m scared of. I have proven to myself that I can go through draft after draft and end with a product that I’m proud of.
When I was first struggling with this though, I couldn’t make any progress with my story and it wasn’t until I joined a writing workshop taught by Tiffany Clarke Harrison that things started to change. In one of the first workshop calls, I was rambling to the group about why it was so hard for me to sit down to write. I said something along the lines of: “I’m just one of those writers who fears the blank page, I know that about myself.”
Tiffany got quiet, kind of tilted her head, and then said something so simple I will never forget it: “But a blank page is just pixels on a screen, what’s scary about that?”
My whole brain exploded. For years, I had identified as someone who “hated the blank page.” My inner critic was telling me a story: that I was inherently a person who dreaded blank pages, and therefore I would always fear them. I was bringing that fear to the page by myself, again and again. I just had to decide to stop.
Of course, I didn’t wake up the following day after that conversation having it all ‘figured out.’ But Tiffany gave me a new belief to work with and start to integrate. I didn’t have to be someone who was scared of it, and I wanted to step instead into the belief that I was someone who could have fun with the blank page.
Unfortunately, knowing something isn’t the same as believing it. My brain now understood that the blank page was nothing to fear, but I needed to prove it to my body. So, I started finding ways to show my body that I was not in danger when I sat down to write my first drafts.
Here’s how I did it:
✨ Guided visualizations and bullet sketching
I will often meditate to visualize the scene I’m about to write and play music to help me get into the mood. As ideas start to come to me, I write them down in bullet form (often by hand in my journal!). These might be thoughts about the scene, lines of prose, character thoughts and feelings. I get it all out, so when I approach the scene I have something to work with.
Sketching out my thoughts before I start writing has removed the pressure of putting words on the page perfectly, and doing it in an outline/bullet format makes it feel less final, until I eventually get into the flow.
✨ Planning ahead
At the end of every writing session, I set up a couple options for what I could work on during the next day’s writing session. I don’t prescribe the “exact” thing I’m going to work on, because I have no idea what will sound fun or easeful the following day, but having a couple options to choose from kills the choice paralysis that used to hamstring me at the beginning of every session.
✨ Dictation
I use this more for idea taking and notes, but saying my thoughts aloud helps trick my brain into believing that I’m not working on the final form of my draft. I know other writers who fully dictate their drafts because it helps them to get something on the page to play with.
While my fear has always been tied to drafting in general, there are also specific times when the fear of the blank page can strike me. I have a few more tools to help when I’m facing those situations:
👉🏻 Overwhelm from idea fatigue
There are times when I’m writing that I have numerous ideas for how a scene or plot point can go, and I don’t know which one to choose, so I don’t write at all. Does this ever happen to you? It’s super normal, and it can be overwhelming. My best advice is to just write down every possible option as fast as you can, up to twenty of them. Writing down all of your ideas (yes, including many “bad” ones) will inevitably give you a gut instinct for what the ‘right’ direction is. We have an episode about brainstorming on the Story Magic Podcast that goes into this tool further!
If you wrote a big list but still need help narrowing it down, write the pros and cons of going with each plot point. Does one have more plot consequences? Is one more interesting? Does one offer more character agency? And if you’re still unsure, there’s nothing wrong with writing a little bit of both options, sometimes just playing around with how it looks on the page can help you choose a direction.
👉🏻 Transitioning projects
This is the space I’m in right now (since I’m going from copy edits on my second book to drafting my third) and unfortunately I have to accept that it’s simply hard. It’s going to feel weird. But if you allow it to simply feel different and weird, and just acknowledge it, you’ll release any shame or pressure that comes with it feeling different.
It’s incredibly hard to go from one project, where you know everything, to a completely new draft where you have zero answers. But the best thing you can do is lean into that discomfort. You can’t know all the answers yet because you’re still figuring out the questions. If you’ve been with another project a long time, and brought it to completion you have already proven to yourself that you can get there. Embrace that trust in yourself and know that you will eventually find the answers to the questions that arise.
You can’t know until you get there, and don’t expect too much of yourself too soon.
Using the techniques from above, I gradually eased my way into exploring methods of interacting with the blank page that kept me from stalling out.
I proved to my body that sitting down at the blank page won’t kill me.
Drafting still isn’t my favorite part of the writing process, but I no longer fear it.
Nothing bad is going to happen to me because I wrote some messy words down.
At the end of the day, writing is hard and it’s vulnerable. It’s normal to sit down and feel that blank page paralysis. But don’t shame yourself for these feelings, instead let’s learn to play with it and trick ourselves into getting something down.
xo,
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