Tips for Overcoming the Blank-Page Blues

As a lifelong runner, there is nothing I enjoy more than encountering a “flow state” mid-run where I feel relaxed, enthused, and—relatively speaking for my age—fast. It’s fun and exciting. It makes up (mostly) for a variety of aches and pains. It reminds me of why I started running in the first place.

The problem is getting there: overcoming inertia, forcing myself out the door, and then enduring those slow early miles before the aerobic payoff hits.

(Making Use of Storystarter Scenes in Fiction.)

We face a similar challenge as writers. Few creative experiences rival those moments when we craft thrilling action scenes, spot-on character sketches, pitch-perfect conversations, or vivid physical settings. We’re in the groove. We’re rocking it. We might make it in this wacky profession after all.

Contrast that with the dread that accompanies sitting down first thing to confront your latest work in progress. The apprehension at eying the blinking cursor bobbing above that terrifying sea of white space like a buoy from hell. The lethargy that grips our imagination and freezes our fingers. There’s a reason why a favorite resting spot for writers is in bed with the lights out and the covers pulled over our heads.

Most of us can identify with versions of a quote attributed to everyone from Red Smith to Gene Fowler to Hemingway: “Writing is easy. You just sit down, stare at a blank page, and wait for beads of blood to form on your forehead.” I haven’t experienced the blood (yet) but I appreciate the sentiment. In response,  I’ve developed a few tricks over the years for pushing past the torpor that threatens daily progress on a new work.

Consider these my take on the “bird by bird” advice from novelist and essayist Annie Lamott, still possibly the greatest writing tip of all time.

This first tip is my variation on advice that mystery novelist Nedra Tyre once gave friend and aspiring writer, Celestine Sibley (as recounted by Curtis Evans on CrimeReads) in terms of what’s needed to complete a book: “Fifteen minutes a day, Celestine, that’s all it takes—Fifteen minutes a day.”

On those occasions when starting seems insurmountable, I tell myself that, once I hit the white space, I’m required to write a single, good paragraph. No more, but no less. Once I accomplish that, I can consider my work day over and move on to more profitable ventures, which is to say almost anything else. Plot twist: Almost always, accomplishing that goal leads me to tackle just one more paragraph, and one more after that. More times than not, I’m on my way.

When writing something new, I’m an advocate of forward motion. My aim is always to write a solid first draft that, murder weapon of choice to my head, I could show my editor if absolutely necessary. As Edgar Award-winning novelist April Henry puts it, “You can always edit crap. You can’t edit nothing.” To that end, I don’t advise repeatedly looping back to improve first pages. But rereading and lightly editing the previous day’s work is fair game and helps me ease into fresh writing.

To accomplish this, I mark each day where I begin writing anew, and then back up a couple of chapters. That’s what I read over and revise the next day before a new round of writing. To return to the running analogy, it’s a good way to warm up without slowing your progress.

Speaking of Hemingway, here’s a final technique taken straight from the master. “I always worked until I had something done, and I always stopped when I knew what was going to happen next,” he wrote. “That way I could be sure of going on the next day.”

In short, I recommend never halting a day’s writing at the end of a scene, whether it’s a section break, a chapter break, or a perfect line of dialogue. If you reach that point—and sure, it can be satisfying—press on for a couple more sentences or even a paragraph to position your narrative in media res when you sit down the next day. Leave what Natasha Khullar Relph, editor at The Wordling, smartly calls a breadcrumb: “one sentence, one question, or even a note to your future self—at the end of every session.” And while it might sound hokey, it’s sometimes worth doubling down and stopping your day’s work in the middle of a

There’s no getting around it. Some days, writing will be harder than others, thanks to everything from family turmoil to problems at work to changes in the barometric pressure. By trying these three techniques—one paragraph; a long look back; and avoiding the hard stop—you can write like a runner who’s found their groove.