Writer’s Block

As an affliction, Writer’s Block is vague indeed. Are blocked writers unable to write anything at all? Or are they able to scratch out a fragment now and then—but unable to finish anything?

Either way, feeling barred from writing fluidly can devastate a person, threatening our freedom of self-expression and even our livelihoods.

So, how do we escape the bell-jar threat of Writer’s Block?

First, we demote it: writer’s block—all lower-case—has far less power over us than Writer’s Block, in bossy caps.

Second, we label writer’s block a self-defining psychological state. That means, if you think you’ve got it, you’ve got it—and the obverse: if you think you haven’t got it, you haven’t got it.

Third, we know that writer’s block became “a thing” only in 1947, when it was named by notoriously fallible psychoanalyst Edmund Bergler (who also claimed that homosexuality was a disease). As a concept, writer’s block is new and dubious.

So, why not assume that writer’s block is bogus, and choose to believe in time-honored human behaviors like singing; dancing; and cave-painting—the form of writing that is as old as life itself.