Whadda Ya Mean Writers’ Block

Writers’ Block?

“The road to hell is paved with works-in-progress.” Philip Roth

Writers' BlockOne day, computers might replace writers! We won’t be much use if we’re sitting around with the dreaded writers block on that fateful day.

A Twitter exchange with a writer got me thinking. She was concerned about the idea of technology replacing writers.

  • Could it happen?
  • Where would the creative spark come from?
  • How can writers plug in to a creative stream as and when we want to?


A big challenge in writing is getting started or unblocking ourselves. So, I did an experiment: Open the first spam or selling type email at the top of my email inbox, then this is what you do:

Easy task

Go five lines down and seven words in, then write 250 words based on the word you find, and complete the rough text in under half an hour. The word was ‘for’; the time 09:21 (I finished at 09:46).

‘You need something for that …’

… A mumbled  statement and I missed the first part. Something for what?

I rushed to the mirror and stared at myself. Was it the reddish-purple pimple with the yellow tip at the end of my slightly gnarled nose? Or my black, cracked, rough-edged fingernails? God, they looked like crumbly tombstones (talk about pizzazz) . Then there were my slightly cheesy feet stuffed into my creaky black lizard leather boots; sooo comfy and, okay, they’re slightly dilapidated, but the heels give me an impressive, rather intimidating height.

Something for that! Something for what? There’s  my fabulous, furry, feral feline; an appropriate cat for someone like me, you know: big and ugly, like a few pounds of greenish tripe. Of course, he smells better than cows innards most of the time.

Apart from scaring children … He sneaks up on them, making loud, alternate growls and hissy-spits, while arching his craggy, clumpy, mangy back. When up close, he bulges his dirty red eyes, and lunges with menace as little horrors shriek ‘MUMEEEee!’ What a wonderful familiar presence for  girl to have.

In fact, there’s only one real problem with him … flatulence! Inferno fragranced the air with a hiss from a nether place. That was it! It was the scent of sulphur I needed something for.

It’s always good to solve a problem. I’m glad my friend didn’t insult me because I’d have been forced to turn her into something vile: a leprous frog, a squishy caterpillar, or a politician …

I drafted the above 250+ words in twenty-five minutes. This was followed by a correctional review.

Why not try the experiment. One piece of advice: if you do, just start!

Let me know how you get on.

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What do you think?