How to Have Writer’s Block

Firstly, you need the writer’s block uniform, you have to look the part.

  • Dressing gown.
  • Sans bra.
  • Optional – jogging bottoms or pyjamas, topped off with mystery stains.
  • Out of shape, greying T-shirt, I like to go with a freebie kind of ensemble, or better yet a touristy type thang. Ya know, something with meaning. My favourite is one with a TERRIFYING rabbit emblazoned on the front, complete with red eyes, the thinking behind it, I assume, is to SCARE THE LITERAL BEJESUS out of you, before you even THINK about using products that are tested on animals.
  • Unbrushed hair, get some food, cigarette butts or suchlike stuck in it for extra visual excitement. Backcomb the living fuck out of it into scary peaks. Imagine yourself as a wild animal that can’t be tamed. You are a creative-less husk of a beast. Roar. ROAR!
  • Make up: panda eyes are absolutely essential, leave your base (i.e, your erm, face) bare, perhaps to show you’ve made some effort but not so much you look like you’re really trying, draw on some comedy eyebrows to make you look interesting and elusive.
  • Scent: go for something that is a hybrid of late night jazz bar, musty old book shop and a sweaty unmade bed that you’ve been doing the old horizontal Twister in for three days. To achieve this, splash on a mix of lager, whisky, smoke a pack of ten and then go for a quick jog around the block. Done.
  • Accessories: Half empty bottle of red wine swinging in one hand, a distant look of discontent, bloodshot eyes, some scribbles up your arm in biro and a couple of tear streaks down your face and you are good.

Next, we’ll need the writer’s block mindset, the unhinged behaviour, walk the walk, blah blah blah.

  • No speaking is allowed whatsoever. You are concentrating too much of your energy on berating yourself for not being able to string a single sentence together.
  • Gaze distantly out of windows without actually seeing anything.
  • Grunt and mumble under your breath, occasionally bursting out laughing for no reason.
  • Cry uncontrollably while watching the news report that what’s his face, plays for somewhere or other football player has just got a book deal.
  • Play with fire.
  • Make a voodoo doll of yourself, and stick pins in it to kill the bad non-writing demons.
  • Learn how to clog dance / knit / make amazing Yorkshire puddings. Get those creative juices flowing.
  • Drink.
  • Drink some more.
  • Regret the tattoo on your arm that simply says “Think”.
  • Consider taking up poetry.
  • Stare at your empty computer screen for hours. on. end.
  • Sob.
  • Practise meditation.
  • Get bored.
  • Decide writing is dead to you. No one reads anymore anyways. Pah! It’s all about the pictures now innit.
  • Realise you can’t take photos either.
  • Discover your world has officially ended.
  • Cry some more.
  • Find therapy in chocolate ice cream.

Annnnnd repeat, forever and ever. Until you metaphorically slap yourself around the face and get an actual grip. Or better yet, totally steal another writer’s idea. That’s what they all do anyway innit?

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