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Breaking Up With Writer’s Block

Categories: Creative Writing Prompts.

It’s time for you and Writer’s Block to part ways. Write a letter breaking up with Writer’s Block, starting out with, “Dear Writer’s Block, it’s not you, it’s me … .”

Post your response (500 words or less) in the comments below.

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38 Responses to Breaking Up With Writer’s Block

  1. psyko_writer says:

    Dear Writer’s Block,
    It is not you, it is me. WE have been together for far too long and I feel that our time has come to an end. You have held my attention and time for far too long. You stole me away with small distractions such as friends, parties, and such, until I forgot all about my “love”. I grew all too accustomed to spending time with you. Oh, don’t get me wrong you gave me some very memorable moments that I shall cherish. You even taught me some well-deserved lessons that I will take to heart. But through it all I never once stopped or could even deny the everlasting pull that the sight of pen and paper has always had on me. Whenever I would see a blank paper or screen calling me to put the words in my heart and mind down, you would always tell me “there is no time for that right now” or “that was just a childish love affair you had, get over it and move on.” And I did, always listening to you and giving in. The further away you pulled me the more I felt like there was a huge part of me that was missing.

    I am sorry Writer’s Block but this is it. I resolve today to end this. I know that it will not be an easy task staying away from you but I know that it can be done. I have so many things in my heart and mind that are struggling to be let out, that I can no longer contain them. I need to reconcile with my “true love” and do what it is that I love to do. I will use the memories, experiences and lessons you have taught me to get back to where I belong. I will no longer deny the urge to pick up my dear friends pen and paper. With their help I know that I can reconnect with her, so until then, good bye.

    Your soon to be ex,
    Psyko_writer

    • QaldoWaldo says:

      Dear Writer’s Block,
      It is not you, it is me. Apparently, my speech is impaired like a bird without wings| I try to reach out and end up with punchlines that get me knocked out by that one line| I’m sorry, its your time. We done forever, my love is clever, never withered| Keep ya on your feet, like Balboa on any Rocky feat| Peace, believe, be still like we praying to eat| I pour my heart out into my poetry, they see me for my ethnicity| But clearly and statisticly, my brain is gone like heaven speech| My writing got me feeling like a beast for real, no fabricating| But, you know what, most people cannot relate to| my life as a child, don’t judge a book, just write your staple| I mean, don’t you got a book to create? I’m like 14, and beat you at your childish of games| Until I wake up in mansions, surrounded by music and Grammys| I never stop writing, even if you bad hand me| Like a bad deck in poker, stakes high, I handle it| No lie, I probably lose that hand, but there are more hands left| raising money for power, like that’s all it will get me, you give me weak lines and empty papers, I forgive you| but never forget, ’cause history can’t repeat, no matter how little you regret| and this my little song to you, wrote it just for you| until you take away my super powers, my kryptonite is you.

      No Longer To Be My “Boo”,
      Waldo Cozart

  2. Erica says:

    Dear Writer’s Block,

    It’s not you, it’s me. We have been friends since the 9th grade but I think it time we go our separate ways. I could tell you never really liked the relationship that I had with writing. Whenever I was having problems with writing, you would always tell me that there were other fish in the sea or something along those lines. You always asking me what I saw in him you told me that I deserved better then him and watching marathons on tv were way more fun. You even cheered me on when I cheated on him with marathons of Bones and Supernatural on Netflix. I decide I want to try to work it out so I started reading to find some inspiration and you told me that was a bad idea. You said I should go out and have some drinks with you, Hulu, and Netflix. Before I knew it, I was in way too deep with you, Hulu, and Netflix. I realize now that you are just a distraction between me and writing. I decide that I want to work it out with writing because around him I can be myself without any judgments. Even as write this I can heard your voice in my head saying I deserve better than writing. I don’t need friends like you that bring me down so I’m done with you.

    Your ex bestfriend,
    Newvirgowriter

  3. philNthe_____ says:

    Dear Writer’s Block,

    It’s not you, It’s me. Honestly I just can’t go on pretending like this isn’t taking a tole on me. We’ve been on and off for about nine years now and enough is enough. You know that I enjoyed the time we did have together but I must move on now and fully dedicate myself to Writing. She listens to me and lets me go on for hours on end without stopping me and distracting me from getting out my emotions and troubles. Not all of the distractions you brought into my life were necessarily bad but I feel like I could have and probably should have gotten much farther with my writing abilities. I just need someone to let me be and flow freely when I get an idea and not interrupt me rudely and get me off subject so I end up losing the inspiration I had. I remember before you came in my life I had a rough draft for an entire book written in less than a week. Now it takes me an entire day to even come up with a few sentences. I used to write poetry so fluently and let the words just flow through me. It was as easy as breathing, but now I feel as though the airway has been cut off and I lack the oxygen needed to produce quality material. In a way I suppose it kind of is you, though it’s also my fault for allowing you to rule my life for so long before confronting you and ending this awful relationship that has controlled my writing ability for so long.

    this is farewell my dear
    from here on out
    doubt free will be
    the cure for me
    you’re distractions
    dissolve now
    as I dive deeper in
    it’s been a battle I fear
    but I’ve finally won
    I can truly say
    that with you
    I’m done!

    Sincerely,
    PhilNthe_____

  4. honeydelight2010 says:

    Dear writer’s block,

    It’s not you it’s me. I finally fell victim to the one thing I promised you I’d never would and that is to allow myself to be so consumed by work troubles and family difficulties that I lost sight of my first passion..YOU! Whether it was telling you about the day I had or sharing my innermost secrets, you were always there for me. I can remember waking up late hours of the night after dream I had and grabbing my orchid cover notebook and I scribbling both the visions and thoughts down just so I wouldn’t lose them come morning.

    I only pray that you can forgive me and us to make up for lost time. I miss you. You were my heart and without you I feel lost. Can you forgive me?

    Alexis

  5. kneal2 says:

    Dear Writer’s Block.Its not you it’s me. I saw you dressed in Red and Black and lines in-between. I noticed your smell from across the room like old greasy cheese. I loved you and you abuse me;had you’re way with me.
    I enjoyed the silence ,the lonely sweats. Writing this letter,I pant like a dog in heat. Hoping that I could secretly hold on to you, Ole Writer’s Block. It’s not you it’s me.
    Together,distractions came easily. Pleasured by my own faults, lead by my own let downs. Maybe I’m not ready to depart ;yet your sabotaging my creativity!! It’s over I’ve found my stride,
    I have take a new lover Her name is “Published Writer”

  6. songwritingwriter04 says:

    Dear Writer’s Block, it’s not you, it’s me…scratch that: it is.

    When you first came into my life I wasn’t worried, what’s one day without writing? I enjoyed that day, I went on a walk, took a yoga class, and even got to bed before two in the morning! Well, quickly one day turned into two, and then three, and before you know it I will become nothing more than a boring vegetable, stuck on the couch day in and day out watching re-runs of The Office on Netflix. You know I can’t live like this.

    You have turned me into someone that I’m not, is it your goal to distract me from everything that I have planned, or is that just a trait that you have inherently? Even writing this letter to you is difficult, I need to pry myself from your clutches and let myself go once and for all. I hate to push you out, but we both knew where this relationship was going, didn’t we? You’re from a different world, and our worlds aren’t going to collide. I know that, and you do too.

    My shallowest regrets,
    Sophia

  7. lulumelon says:

    Dear Writer’s Block,

    It’s not you, it’s me. I know that sounds like a cliche, but I swear to you it’s true. It started out as the occasional burst of inspiration, only about a paragraph a day, but then it started coming frequently. I didn’t think it would amount to anything, little did I know I would soon be starting a novel, and a great one at that. I’m already 200 words in and it’s only been a week and a half!

    I’m sorry…that was insensitive.

    Our relation was toxic Writer’s Block. You were holding me back, and I felt like I wasn’t amounting to anything. I’m finally happy Writer’s Block, and I only hope you’ll be too.

    My regards,

    Lulu

  8. singingwriter1673 says:

    Dear Writer’s Block,

    It’s not you, it’s me. I know we’ve been on and off since the 7th grade, but I really need you out of my life. I don’t love you. I never did. I was only with you because you constantly pushed yourself into my life and my mind. You’re hurting me by taking away my dreams. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending that you’re something you’re not. I need to grow. I need to flourish and be who I want to be. You’re holding me back from that and I can’t take it anymore. You have other people that you can go to. Goodbye, Writer’s Block. Don’t contact me. Don’t try to come back. I won’t have you.

    Goodbye forever,
    Sarah

  9. tinksquill says:

    Thanks, WD! I also posted this on my blog and linked to your page. :)
    WORD COUNT: 204, TIME: 15 minutes

    Dear Writer’s Block,

    It’s not you, it’s me.

    You trained me in the disciplined art of second-guessing myself. Together we have shared many years of insecurity. But you want me to continue being cautious, obedient, and restrained. I can no longer.

    We both know that we rode this out for far too long.

    In fact, perhaps we never should have gotten back together. The temporary elation caused by my winning National Novel Writing Month allowed me to be in denial about our incompatibility.

    There is no easy way to tell you this, so I’ll just say it. The truth is, I’ve found something else. Yes, it’s Creative Confidence. Deep down, I know that she has always been the one for me. I think that you know it too.

    I think this transition would fare better if we sever all ties. This may seem like an extreme measure, but it has become uncomfortable having you around. After all of the disappointments and missed opportunities we’ve shared, I just cannot foresee an amiable friendship for us.

    I wish you well in the future. I hope you find someone better suited to be with, like internet trolls or whoever creates those unbearably catchy commercial jingles.

    Sincerely,

    Amber
    http://quilltakesflight.com/2013/05/23/unblocked/

  10. Dr. Les Moore says:

    Dear Writer’s Block. Its not you. Its me. I have been using you as an excuse for not reaching my full potential in life. It has meen like a bad marriage, this relationship between you and I. But it is not your fault, its mine. I found comfort in your company. You made it easy for me to say,”I am going to be a writer,” rather than to say, “I am a writer.”

    My brother and everybody who came in close contact with me saw my abilities and often strangers told me, “I like the way you speak.” I am a natural born writer. But, for fear of doing what I was put on this earth to do, I begged you to stay in my life. My dependency on you is like a sin. I have commited a sin, simular to adultry because I allowed myself to become deluted with the likes of you. And the sad part about it is, you tried to leave me, but I begged you to stay,

    But that is behind us now. I have matured into a responsible adult now. I have grown children and young adult grand children who I must leave a jegacy for. And, they would actually make great characters to write about. There is insperation all around me, I have everything that i need to write about. My life is full of everything that I can ask for. And now, I am free of my addiction and my dependency on you. I bid you well writer’s Block.

    Good bye.

  11. typestir says:

    While I’m happy to see my “Dear Writer’s Block” finally posted, I’m very sorry about the double post. Obviously, I didn’t realize it had posted the first time. Again, my apologies.

  12. typestir says:

    Dear Writers Block,

    It’s not you, it’s me. I know I haven’t been around much lately, and I’d say I’m sorry, but that wouldn’t be true.

    You’ve been so loyal. You’ve been by my side for almost fifty years, since that 9th grade creative writing class. Like I said, it’s me; I’m the one who’s changed, and after all these years I suppose an explanation is in order.

    About two years ago, in what was admittedly a rather impulsive moment, I answered an ad for a writer. Well, a reporter, actually. A small town newspaper needed someone to cover a few local meetings. As instructed, I emailed some writing samples, along with a brief note introducing myself.

    I was aiming the little arrow at the “send” button, when you made your usual grab for my hand, and, as you must remember, I inexplicably brushed you away. I know your insistence on second-thoughts has always been meant to save me from embarrassment, but instead of your well-intended second-thoughts, I was suddenly thinking, “I’m 61. What the hell?” The next second it was gone.

    Later that day I was offered my first assignment, if I wanted it. While it did seem a bit like Mission Impossible (“Your assignment, if you choose to accept it…”), I answered, “Sure.” I was then told about the meeting I was to cover, the required length of the article, and…the deadline.

    Now, it really was Mission Impossible. I had a deadline. Me. The same woman with fifty years of mostly unfinished work, including Christmas letters, had just promised to deliver a completed article within 48 hours. It was writing that article that caused our first big fight. I had to leave you, or break my promise.

    Since then I’ve learned it wasn’t inspiration I lacked, but a deadline, and the only voice I needed to find was an editor’s. I had all the inspiration I ever needed when I was eight years old, that night I stood on the end of my bed to reach the window sill so I could use the street light to finish writing. And the voice in my head that night, it was my voice. It never had to be found, just heard, and it was, until you came along, drowning it out.

    I realize reporting doesn’t seem like the great writing romance I always envisioned, a vision you’ve faithfully tended all these years, but I’m having a wonderful time. Even with the pressure of a deadline, I still manage the occasional phrase or sentence that leaves me giddy with pride. And, without you around anymore, I’m writing much more than just my newspaper articles now.

    I’ll be semi-retiring soon, and doing a lot more writing. I admit the future is a little scary, but keeping you around hasn’t just blocked my writing, but my life. And now, with more years behind me than ahead, I realize, as so many people my age do, that I’ve always had a deadline.

  13. typestir says:

    Dear Writers Block,

    It’s not you, it’s me. I know I haven’t been around much lately, and I’d say I’m sorry, but that wouldn’t be true.

    You’ve been so loyal. You’ve been by my side for almost fifty years, since that 9th grade creative writing class. Like I said, it’s me; I’m the one who’s changed, and after all these years I suppose an explanation is in order.

    About two years ago, in what was admittedly a rather impulsive moment, I answered an ad for a writer. Well, a reporter, actually. A small town newspaper needed someone to cover a few local meetings. As instructed, I emailed some writing samples, along with a brief note introducing myself.

    I was aiming the little arrow at the “send” button, when you made your usual grab for my hand, and, as you must remember, I inexplicably brushed you away. I know your insistence on second-thoughts has always been meant to save me from embarrassment, but instead of your well-intended second-thoughts, I was suddenly thinking, “I’m 61. What the hell?” The next second it was gone.

    Later that day I was offered my first assignment, if I wanted it. While it did seem a bit like Mission Impossible (“Your assignment, if you choose to accept it…”), I answered, “Sure.” I was then told about the meeting I was to cover, the required length of the article, and…the deadline.

    Now, it really was Mission Impossible. I had a deadline. Me. The same woman with fifty years of mostly unfinished work, including Christmas letters, had just promised to deliver a completed article within 48 hours. It was writing that article that caused our first big fight. I had to leave you, or break my promise.

    Since then I’ve learned it wasn’t inspiration I lacked, but a deadline, and the only voice I needed to find was an editor’s. I had all the inspiration I ever needed when I was eight years old, that night I stood on the end of my bed to reach the window sill so I could use the street light to finish writing. And the voice in my head that night, it was my voice. It never had to be found, just heard, and it was, until you came along, drowning it out.

    I realize reporting doesn’t seem like the great writing romance I always envisioned, a vision you’ve faithfully tended all these years, but I’m having a wonderful time. Even with the pressure of a deadline, I still manage the occasional phrase or sentence that leaves me giddy with pride. And since you’ve been gone a while, I’m writing much more than just my newspaper articles.

    I’ll be closing the store soon. I admit the future is a little scary, but keeping you around hasn’t just blocked my writing, but my life. And now, with more years behind me than ahead, I realize, as so many people my age do, that I’ve always had a deadline.

  14. DeeDee says:

    Dear Writers’ Block,
    It’s not you, it’s me…. Definitely me! I’ve been trying to work around you like you’re not there. In fact, I really don’t know how you got there in the first place. I used to be able to write on a whim.
    Everyday I walk past the shelves lined with my written work; some unpublished, like the poems that are left in the neat little binder, or the short stories that never made it to the rewrite phase. Sometimes I look at the books, articles, essays, speeches, short stories, and other ideas tucked in writing notebooks, on envelops, in the columns of everything from novels to junk mail.
    Often, I pick something up only to find myself facing a side of you that says ‘not good enough.’ Like an echo chamber, those words clang in my head until I put down my pen and distract myself by washing dishes or clothes or floors, anything that allows me to walk away from you and your shadow.
    But dear Block, you and your long shadow are persistent. Take the other day, for example, I promised myself to get up early, do thirty minutes on the treadmill or on the yoga mat, shower, eat, and face the introduction that was nagging me. I began easily enough following my plan, writing almost a page and a half before you cast your shadow over me. I tried to catch a fleeting thought but you chased me insisting that I wash the breakfast dishes, or pay the bills, to which I said no! Alas dear Block, returning to my dangling introduction became futile, nothing else came forth, my pen had run dry.
    Perhaps dear Block, my mind and goals are not in synch. Perhaps that’s why, in the middle of a page in my forlorn introduction, the word ‘distraction’ stares up at me, and once again I admit defeat! Annoyed I wash more dishes and pay more bills, became restless and go out for a cup of cappuccino. I admit you’re good. Not to mention that I have mocha coffee drip grind in the kitchen which I prefer to cappuccino any day! That sudden urge to escape to the coffee shop for an unnecessary cappuccino forces me to face another shortfall, another failure, another excuse for not pursuing my goal of living the writer’s life.
    Honestly, I’ve had enough of that four-thirty AM voice announcing something some character or idea pushing me to find my bedside notepad, or go to the computer, shaking me awake before dawn. Now I want to do the heavy lifting and remove you all together! That requires risk and guts that flies in the face of what I am expected to be doing at this stage of my life. The truth of the matter is that I’ve lived the academic writer’s life and loved it. But the price I paid was very, very high. Family and friends slowly stopped calling because I was always writing and researching or giving a talk somewhere or going to a conference; my failed attempts to exercise regularly, and the nagging suspicion that the more I published the lonelier I’d become. And it’s true. Except for my children who themselves sometimes feel abandoned by the presence of my muse who now has hidden from me, I suspect behind you!
    So my dear Block, I now know that I didn’t invite you to my writing sessions nor did I ask for you to be delivered to my front door. No matter, it’s time for you to leave and take your guilt, distractions, nagging, fears, and other irritations with you. I don’t need you anymore. I just need to write about life and ideas that feed my soul.

    Farewell Block,

  15. Dia says:

    Dear Writer’s Block,

    It’s not you, it’s me. I feel that I am not being fair to you, and it is time for our relationship to come to an end. Originally, I thought the saying was true. You know, the saying, “Opposites attract.” But I’ve come to realize that that’s not always the case. I admire your patience, but I can no longer put up with it. I’m sorry, I just can’t.

    You have the ability to be perfectly satisfied doing nothing. Time doesn’t concern you. You are a free spirit, happily going with the flow and never in a rush. You lounge around for hours on end without saying a word, simply wanting my company. I tried to sit around with you. I tried to trust that eventually, you’d be willing to get up and go to new places with me. I thought that if I just waited, you’d give in and decide to take me somewhere. But you didn’t…

    I should have just realized that that’s the kind of concept you are. I was silly to think that one day you’d change because of me. I’ve come to understand now though, that if a relationship is going to go anywhere, there must be acceptance. And unfortunately, I cannot accept you any longer.

    I want to go, you want to stay. I want to move, you say, “No way.” I like new ideas, you cling to the past. You move too slow, I move too fast. I want to express myself, but you don’t see the need. So there’s nothing left to do but for me to let you be free.

    I know you will move on and find someone else. I have no problem with that. In fact, when you and I first got together, I already knew that you had already been with quite a few…I didn’t let that bother me though. I was willing to let bygones be bygones. In fact, I didn’t even stress out when I heard the rumors of you occasionally paying visits to other writers behind my back. I guess a part of me just didn’t believe the rumors—you spend so much time with me, how in the world was it possible for you to be with anyone else?! But you’re a sneaky little something, aren’t you?

    Don’t worry though. I’m not looking for answers. Just do you. But from now on, do you somewhere else, because I’m moving on. So I hope you enjoy your stay with whoever you end up with next. I know I’ll see you around every now and then. But please, keep your visits short. It’s better for both of us that way.

    Sincerely,
    Dia

  16. BingoBill says:

    Dear Writer’s Block,

    It’s not you, it’s me. For many years you have stood at my side, a loyal yet unwanted friend. I can recall the first day of your familiar embrace and the soft whisper in my ear ‘go ahead; put this one aside, you can finish later’. Many were the times in which a good idea would break the surface of my fetid imagination, take root and begin the first flowering into a fully grown story line only to have you, my long time companion say, ‘now is not the time, the window needs a new coat of paint’ and off we would go. Again.
    Probably the most painful part of our relationship was when those really good ideas died from habit, from routine, from learned reaction. We would hang out and read a little, watch tv and goof off in the aimless style of adolescents everywhere. Purpose became directionless. Action morphed into ennui fueled nervous abandon. Habit became….habit.
    So goodbye. It is me, I have moved on. I know you will show up every now and then looking for some quality time, some reminiscence but no, it’s over for good.
    Now go find someone else.

  17. evigre says:

    Dear Writer’s Block,

    It’s not you, it’s me. I just can’t stand it any more. It’s been many years since I last did something for myself and I believe the time has come. All the time we spent together I learned so many things.. And you know, I started believing in you.. I started believing that you’ll be with me for the rest of my life.. And I was truly, sincerely faithful to you until yesterday.. until that dream I had yesterday..

    Oh, that dream.. I wasn’t sure if it was sent by my subconscious or by some god..

    Three muses came last night to me..Just to remind me of my life before meeting you..
    The first one was Melpomene, the muse of tragedy. She started showing me the most tragic events of my life, the losses I’ve grieved for, the ones I first wanted to forget but then I had decided to write about.. And then she left.. And I felt so sad and lonely..

    And you weren’t there so I started writing..

    And then it was Calliope, the muse of epic poetry, that was showing me glimpses of my past life and made me think.. She made me remember how much I liked writing.. I spent a few minutes thinking of my stories, stories that tortured my mind for years, shouting at me, yelling, waiting to be written..

    And when she left I saw you weren’t there and I started writing again..

    And then I heard music.. It was so unexpectedly beautiful.. It felt divine.. I turned my head and the third muse appeared to me playing her lyre.. Her name was Erato. She is known as the erotic poetry muse and the moments I passed with her were full of love and passion, sweet romantic memories of the past..

    And suddenly I woke up in my bed. All suety and confused..

    And since you were absent again, I started writing..

    I don’t really know what happened last night. All I know is that those three ghosts changed my point of view. ‘Cause they reminded me of things I had forgotten. I couldn’t possibly say if it was a dream or if it really happened. What I certainly do know is that I must leave you. I have to. It’s so difficult for me, yet I have to be on my own again. I have to stand up for my beliefs.
    So I should leave you now, that I’m still young. I know I’ll meet you again some day, I know that for sure.. But then it will be different.

    I spent all morning considering all that. It possibly was a sign of god or it was the passion that I have for writing that has encouraged me to give an end in our long relationship. Either way it’s all clear now.

    I’m over you!!!

    This letter is the ultimate proof as well as the beginning of my new life.

    My best regards,

    your ex-girlfriend.

    P.S.1. Tomorrow morning I won’t be at home so that you can pick up your stuff.
    P.S.2. Can I keep your Charles Dickens’ book ( A Christmas Carol) ?
    I read it last night before going to bed and it reminded me of my childhood..
    Poor old man Ebenezer ! What a night he had!!

  18. Dear Writer’s block,
    It’s not you it’s me. I take full responsibility knowing I could have progressed further if only I would spend half the time writing that I did on social media, stressing over my latest self-imposed deadline, and trying too hard to make things work. I know writing is a part of me and some days will be worse than others so I’m not going to give up. I do however, have to give you up. I have too many things to write that just won’t come out as words. Sometimes I see a picture or an inspiring quote that makes me want to write, but then I second guess myself thinking it’s not worth the effort. Whatever story I have an idea for will be a dead end. This is no good if I am to be published one day.
    I realize you are content with me staring off into space, freaking out, and giving you so much attention, but that’s just not who I am. There is always something I want to express every single day and it seems life gets in the way. Being a stay at home Mom gets tiring, feeling like my goals are out of reach becomes discouraging, and at the end of the day I am just plain out exhausted. The energy I put into you could be better spent enjoying and living in the moment, and letting words naturally flow instead of feeling so down trodden and hopeless.
    I would love to make a career of writing and I need to practice in order to make that happen. This is why I am the problem here. I have too much ambition to settle for you. Please don’t take this as an insult. I am sure there are other desperate people out there like I was, that would be good for you. Like maybe someone who needs a break from writing and to rest their brain because they are burned out of ideas. Otherwise, I wouldn’t wish you on anyone.
    Your stalkerish tendencies have become a little creepy. When I sit down to write every day, there you are, blank page in all of your empty glory. When I try to divert myself from you through social media, I go to type a status and once again you appear staring at me through a black status update bar asking “How are you feeling, Laurie?” When you know full well I am unable to express myself with words at the moment. I find this just a little cruel.
    So, you see, we’re just not connecting like we used to. We have different priorities and goals. We should both move on to make the most of our lives with no regrets. Sometimes things just don’t work out. This is one of those times. Forgive me for doing this writing exercise and proving you wrong, but I think you at least deserve this note. Have a great life and go torture someone else, please.

    Best regards,
    Laurie

  19. Dear Writer’s block,

    It’s not you it’s me. I take full responsibility knowing I could have progressed further if only I would spend half the time writing that I did on social media, stressing over my latest self-imposed deadline, and trying too hard to make things work. I know writing is a part of me and some days will be worse than others so I’m not going to give up. I do however, have to give you up. I have too many things to write that just won’t come out as words. Sometimes I see a picture or an inspiring quote that makes me want to write, but then I second guess myself thinking it’s not worth the effort. Whatever story I have an idea for will be a dead end. This is no good if I am to be published one day.

    I realize you are content with me staring off into space, freaking out, and giving you so much attention, but that’s just not who I am. There is always something I want to express every single day and it seems life gets in the way. Being a stay at home Mom gets tiring, feeling like my goals are out of reach becomes discouraging, and at the end of the day I am just plain out exhausted. The energy I put into you could be better spent enjoying and living in the moment, and letting words naturally flow instead of feeling so down trodden and hopeless.

    I would love to make a career of writing and I need to practice in order to make that happen. This is why I am the problem here. I have too much ambition to settle for you. Please don’t take this as an insult. I am sure there are other desperate people out there like I was, that would be good for you. Like maybe someone who needs a break from writing and to rest their brain because they are burned out of ideas. Otherwise, I wouldn’t wish you on anyone.

    Your stalkerish tendencies have become a little creepy. When I sit down to write every day, there you are, blank page in all of your empty glory. When I try to divert myself from you through social media, I go to type a status and once again you appear staring at me through a black status update bar asking “How are you feeling, Laurie?” When you know full well I am unable to express myself with words at the moment. I find this just a little cruel.

    So, you see, we’re just not connecting like we used to. We have different priorities and goals. We should both move on to make the most of our lives with no regrets. Sometimes things just don’t work out. This is one of those times. Forgive me for doing this writing exercise and proving you wrong, but I think you at least deserve this note. Have a great life and go torture someone else, please.

    Best regards,
    Laurie

  20. kevinbalboa says:

    Dear writer’s digest:
    its not you its me I hover in the distance while you send me your emails. If only I had a better sense of where I am going and I had less fear of pursuing my dreams I would use your emails a lot more. I believe in the importance of finding one’s direction in life. The problem is too many people I think wonder the same thing and that at times makes me wonder if I am following my wishes or society’s wishes. More importantly I wonder if I am on the right path?
    What also stops me numerous times is the fear of criticism. The fear of criticism can be compared to a huge anchor tied to a boat. When held at the bottom of the ocean it becomes very hard to lift without expending energy. As such I am tempted to pursue writing as a full time profession but I always wonder whether I have the talent, the hard work and the willingness to preserve to make it. fvgfThat is what has stopped me numerous times. So with that let me say I plan on remaining a user, and I hope I convinced you at least in some way why it is not you it is me.

    Kevin Costakes

  21. Pedalpusher says:

    Dear Writer’s Block,

    We’ve had quite the time together. It’s been months, but feels like a ride around the block. Now, it’s time for us to take different paths. After giving this a lot of thought, I can honestly say it’s not me, it’s you. Hey, I’m just being honest. I wanted to tell you in person, but writing this all down gives me a sense of freedom, as if the shackles have finally been taken off.

    I’ve been feeling a wall grow between us, and think it’d be better for both of us to take a break. Maybe we can work it out, but relationships take two. I’m not blameless. My part in this? You couldn’t keep up with my insatiable appetite. I kept you up all hours of the day and night, writing, typing, pestering you. “Even a blockhead like me needs sleep!” you’d tell me, but I wouldn’t relent. The irony is that as exhausted as you were, I was equally exhausted by your constant effort to throw up one road block after another for every idea, every thought I ever had. Who can live like this??

    You on the other hand, are not without fault. Always stingy, holding back words as if they were gold, you tried to pass it off as being thrifty. I called it what it was – cheap, miserly, word-pinching. You just could not take down the wall. The final straw was when we went to that writer’s workshop and you couldn’t even come up with the appropriate 15% tip for the comment section! It was embarrassing. I ask again, who can live like this??

    Of course when the next girl comes along, you’ll be all accommodating and charming. It won’t take long for you to find another victim on the Writer’s Digest Dating website. I hope you’ll be happy together, and I hope she’s the write – I mean, right – one for you.

    Good riddance.

  22. Mandy says:

    Dear Writers Block,

    I’m sorry, but we have to end this. It’s not you, it’s me. I need to spread my wings, and I can’t do that with you holding me back. I have to achieve my goals, and I am not happy lazily moping around at your side. You see I have a dream that if I don’t make come true I will live my life regretting. I have a daughter to support, and I need to give her the best life possible.No matter how hard I try to write or where I begin, you keep holding me back. You’re too clingy, and though I enjoyed cuddling with you in self doubt at first, it is now time for me to move on. Writing is what I do, it is what I love, it makes me who I am. Being with you is slowly taking that away from me. Our relationship has left me frustrated, and unhappy. I have changed. and I hope that you will too. Have a nice life.

    Sincerely,
    Mandy

  23. Mandy says:

    Dear Writers Block,

    It’s not you it’s me. I have big dreams you see, but I just don’t know where to start.

  24. sailbohemian says:

    My dearst Tease,

    How do you live with yourself when I grab you by the wrists crying? How can you sleep at night when I fall at your feet begging, pleading? Every time that I think I can go no lower you toss me a few measly letters…crumbs. How can you? Every time I climb up those old worn wooden steps, cross those splintering planks and look off the back of this boat, this yacht, our very world, and I stare into the endless inky abyss beneath me you scream a few words. You’re so cold now. Each and every time I try to come to grips with who I really am you give me a line, but you never let me finish. You look at me with those eyes, the ones that have grown so dark, so menacing, so full of devout control. Why?

    It must be me. It must be. It is. It is me. You must believe me. I’m sorry my love. I’m sorry that I cannot appease you anymore. I’m sorry my dear that I cannot satisfy you. I’m sorry that I can’t make you happy. I’m sorry that I broke my promise to care for you, to cherish you, to honor you in both the good, and the bad. For richer or poorer we once repeated to one another. Do you remember? We said it that evening just as the sun was setting around that ring of absolute brilliance; a gold that danced a ballet from wave tip to wave tip until it reached the fire in its retreat from the darkening foe. The world began and ended on that horizon. That very one. You had called the night your foe. I always thought it me…

    I’ve ignored you. I’ve forgotten about you. I’ve done everything within my powers to seduce you into my ever fleeting and wild whims. And now….and now I only want you to say those words to me, to whisper in my ear like you used to when we found ourselves wrapped in that little cabin under the frost covered blankets. We would spend all day there. I miss your warmth, your breath, your smell, your kiss. I miss your tales of fancy, the ones where you tore off every chain, ripping skin from bone that Society had held you with all those years. The marvelous moments when you picked the locks she shackled on you, stripped off the gag that kept you quiet through the misery of your days and the emptiness of your nights while she stood right there….right there screaming, “Shut up you filthy whore!” You were always my hero, my knight, my armor. I want to feel you against my naked skin. I want to hold you. I want to love you, I want to feel your love. I want it to be like it was. I want it to be like it was always supposed to be. It’s all my fault… What happened to us? What happened to me?

    I’m sorry my love. I know. I know now that it’s not you, that it was never you, that it will never be you. You are everything that is good, everything that is righteous. You are the light that will always guide this lonely boat to harbor. You and you alone are the compass and the chart, the pumps that have kept us afloat. You are life. And I my love….I am only that wave, the one that we can never survive. I am that wind that presses us beneath the surface of the sea. I am what makes you gag, gasp, beg for air. I have destroyed it all.

    Forgive me….

    -RLP

  25. blondguppy84 says:

    Dear Writer’s Block,

    It’s not you, it’s me. I’ve been dealing with so much personal stress, I couldn’t distinguish fact from fiction. I was there. I know how annoying it can be… having people tell you that your life could be a bestseller, and only able to take notes. Well, that’s superb! I could use an awesome advance. See, in order for that to happen, we need to write the damn thing first. So it’s time to move you. I don’t know what I wrote to piss off my Muse, but I will offer many apologies if she sent you as a punishment. Actually, I haven’t been to the gym in a few weeks, so I’m going to find the largest medieval-looking hammer and smash you to pieces. I hope you’re okay with that.

    Leave Me Alone For Once,

    Jessica

  26. kstewart17 says:

    Dear Writer’s Block,

    It’s not you, it’s me. But I think it’s actually partially you because you’re the one that shows up at the worst possible times and prevents me from writing anything decent. No, no, I’m sorry. It is me. I know there are ways to fend you off, but you just keep coming back. You’re like a desperate ex-boyfriend who keeps on begging until I give in. And I always give in by closing my notebook and staring into nothing, thinking, you win this time Writer’s Block. I’m such a softy. But that’s it! That’s the last straw! You just can’t tie me down anymore. I need to be a free woman. Ahem, writer. I know I can do it, because sometimes I manage to get away from you for a while. But you always come back. Now you really will be the angry ex-boyfriend (well, kind of) trying to fight his way back into my life. But I will keep saying no and keep on writing like you were never there. You will not get me back! You won’t! Besides, I have someone new in my life. I have creativity crawling back to me know and I thank him for reminding me that I am a writer and that I don’t need you around

    I’m sorry Writer’s Block, but I think we are both better off going our separate ways. And you have so many other people to bother, that you’ll forget about me in a week. Without you, I will write stories and novels and be happy with my writing. That’s all I want in life, and you’re getting in the way of my dreams. Authors just can’t be tied down by you, it’s not fair. I know you like to hang out with them, but why not try to find a nice engineer who likes to build things? You could be happy without being in her way. You could even be one of her building blocks. Get it? No? Okay.

    Well anyways, I’ll never forget you Writer’s Block. You were a big part of my life. But I sure hope you forget me because if not, you’ll just keep getting in the way of my writing. My life goals! You understand. As I’m writing this, I’m realizing that it’s really not you. It’s me because my goals as a writer get in the way of your career. I admit that if I didn’t want to be a writer, things would work out. But not right now because I’m a college student and I have to write whether I want to or not, and not ever because I am a writer. I need to be free to write creatively whenever I want. It’s just not working out with you around. Seriously, go find an engineer. They hate writing.

    Best Wishes in your aspirations,

    Katie

  27. nikosgrl4 says:

    Dear Writer’s Block:
    “It not you, it’s me” is an old cliche used to “pass the buck”. Well, the “buck stops here” and I am going to say it like it is. It is you! You are stuck in my head, blocking out the creativity that lies within. I have so many great ideas lurking the back ground, just screaming to get out. I have good dialogue, an excellent vocabulary, and plots galore. Why are you hovering in my brain?
    So, where do we start? How do we get out of this mess? Do a writing exercise. Good idea! Time to wipe out the cobwebs and let the inspiration begin. Put those words to paper by free writing anything and everything. Then, I’ll break it down into movable, readable parts. Sometimes I have to rearrange something so it fits. That’s okay because I know in my own mind how it will all work out in the end. A surprise ending, you say? I can do that too.
    Okay then, you’re gone for now. What an awesome feeling. I think I will jump on over to the short story I have been working on for an upcoming contest. If I work real hard, I could get it finished by tonight. Cheerio old timer. Here’s hoping we don’t meet up for a while.

  28. cmpradia says:

    Dear Writer’s Block,

    Its not you, it’s me!

    I cannot do this with you anymore! My feelings are just not there. You keep me from reaching my dreams. I have dreams of writing a book that will help heal wounds for some and educate others. I see my book being the next New York Times bestseller and a novel used in academia. I cannot reach that dream if I in a relationship. You are great for some, but just not a match for me. I can no longer succumb to your control of my thoughts, time, and success. I get to dictate those variables in my life, not you!

    Writer’s Block it has been a bittersweet ride with you. Although you kept me from meeting my personal deadlines, you did give me some fun times. Those moments when I could not get my thoughts out on paper, you provided an outlet for me to catch up on my latest television shows, sleep, eat, and hang out with my friends and family. Fun times! Nevertheless it is now time for me to get back to business.

    I wish you the best with your future relationships. I am sure you will find the perfect match. Someone who is not aware of the manipulation games you play. The person will have a lack of drive and comfortable with being lazy with no life goals. The right thing will happen for you. But as for you and I, we are through. Please lose my address, phone number, and email address. You have been locked out of my workstation, so your aura will not hit my screen as I begin to type the lines the world will get to see.

    My new love is a new found confidence and success.

    Good luck in the future.

  29. Dyane357 says:

    Dear Writer’s Block,
    It’s not you it’s me. I can not keep up this charade any longer. I have been living a lie. I have been

    unfaithful. All those evenings you thought I was at work were actually spent in the arms of another. We

    exchange ideas and explore concepts that you had no interest in pursuing. In fact, my new relationship has

    been such a godsend that I haven’t been paying any attention to you at all.

    You no longer satisfy me. I know that sounds harsh but it is true. I want more. I need more. Life is too

    short for me to continue in a fruitless relationship and you and I have never accomplished a thing. Up until

    now, that has been fine with me. You kept me from the dangers of critics, rejection letters and negative

    comments while gently reminding me that I just might be reaching for something I have no business

    attempting. No more. No more.

    Truth is, I occasionally pursued you but primarily I used you. You provided a service. You filled a need. I

    used you to keep me from being productive. I used you to feed into my fear of failure. I used you to convince

    me that writing would expose some “deep, dark, demented” side of me that would either get me locked up or

    in a straight-jacket. But no more. I can no longer pretend that you have this power over me. Everything that

    has happened between us was done with my permission and from this day forward, you no longer have it. I

    am free.

    Sincerely,

    Dyane357
    .

  30. kimmie48 says:

    Dear Writers Block, it’s not you it’s me. I realize that we have been so comfortable together for a long time. We’ve had our laughs at the thought of writing anything worth reading. We’ve joked at times about how writing is a crazy idea any way. We even went so far as to just give up and throw in the pen! But, I have to be honest with you. Now, try and understand what I’m saying. I’ve been living a lie and I can’t do it any longer. I simply refuse to live that way any more! I truly disdain the thought of being in a relationship that holds me back. Yea, I know, it’s been sort of a relief at times, hanging out with you and just chillin’ and giving you your space. Deep down inside I imagined you would just go away on your own one day and then my mind will be aroused with all sorts of ideas. But so far you haven’t. Quite frankly I just want more from my relationships. I want a relationship that inspires my growth not impede it. I need a union that nurtures hope. A kinship that improves my outlook on myself and my writing. You always seem to be there when I never ever need you and I just cannot foster that kind of existence any longer. If it weren’t for you then inspiration would be my best friend but unfortunately he cannot stand the very thought of you, so when your around he refuses to show up. So, you see, you must go. Please understand that this is better for you as well. Hey, look at it this way, you could become something special to someone that is more pessimistic. Someone more negative. Someone who only talks about accomplishing a writing but never really intends on doing it. There are so many possibilities for you, unfortunately. I honestly hope that you realize this is what’s best and my mind is made up. I would just like to say in the words of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, “ Atvwa, Au-do, parting is such sweet sorrow.” Now, don’t let the door hit you. Sincerely, Kim

  31. learnershewrote says:

    Dear Writer’s Block,

    It’s not you; it’s me. I know those words sound ominous but the time has come. I’m sorry. I’ve allowed myself to fawn at your immovable feet for far too long. You’re never going to change and so I’ve realized that it is I who must change instead. I’m moving on. I have dreams, I have goals, and damn it, I have ideas. The world deserves to know those ideas. I can make the world a better place. I’m holding myself back by letting you control me. I need for you to pack your ugly bags and take your heavy nothingness with you. And I need for you to leave today. I only have so much spare room and that space will be occupied by a very obliging muse.

    I know, muses are your archenemies. Hey, take it up with them. Not me. I’m an innocent, caught in your literary crossfire. I can’t do this anymore. If you knew me, if you truly knew me, you’d understand. You’d get that I write to breathe. It’s a part of my life force. You’ve been smothering me and I’ve been letting you. No more. After today, I want no more contact with you. Keeping in touch is not an option. If I want a break from writing, it will be of my own will. I’m no longer allowing you to impose your unpredictable will upon me. We’re done.

    I don’t, however, want to leave you with no other options for the future. There are plenty of teenage bloggers in the virtual world who pontificate daily, extolling the virtues of people like Justin Bieber. I think the world would be most pleased to see one of them befriended by you.

    Thanks for listening.

    Not yours truly,
    LearnerSheWrote

    • kimmie48 says:

      Good for you LearnerSheWrote, you gave “Writers Block” what for!! I’m a little too “mushy, mushy.” I must be more firm, stand my ground! :)

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