Writing Block Novels & Stories

Not catering to my werewolf boyfriend's needs if that's what you're asking. "It was great, I spent it writing." "Oh wow, how's that been so far?" "Awesome really, I haven't had a writers block at all, and laziness can't seem to find me," I say proudly and he nods in approval, I don't want to tell him that his motivational quotes inspired me to write, I feel like it will just boost his ego and I don't want Chris Josh to be proud of himself for helping me. "I'm proud of you Flint."

“Going for a walk?” “Yeah, I need to clear my head before I attempt to write another chapter.” “Having a bit of writer’s block?” “Kind of,” I say, not sure how to explain it. I know what I want to write, but I have to get through several chapters first until I get to the big action sequence I’ve been dying to write since the conception of this series. Technically, that’s not really “writer’s block” but more like “motivation block,” crippled by a healthy dose of pressure to make this book better than the last, not disappoint fans, and leave them wanting more. And I’m hating every single freaking word I type in my document, which is a bit of an issue. There’s nothing like deleting every other

For the first time in his life, he’d begun to believe writer’s block might be a real thing, and he worried it might be a wall he could not break through. But now he felt the wall crumble, and he went back inside and found a notepad and pen by the phone in the front room. Taking these back to the deck, he settled in and began to write a short story about this expedition almost forty-thousand-feet below sea level. He didn’t think too hard about where he was going, just let the words flow, discovering the story as it poured out of the pen.

So this was how it was going to go, Blake Shite slammed her laptop closed and sat back in her very comfy office chair. She'd been locked up in her home for a week, trying to put words to her new book. But nothing. Not a single word made it onto the screen, her fingers hovered, typed, deleted. Over and over. She rubbed a hand over her tired eyes and stood, stretching her back. She would go down to the kitchen, make herself a cup of coffee, toast and try again. Her phone rang on her desk and she glared down at it. Her agent, Donna, again. She growled at the phone, ignored it, and went down to her kitchen. Blake didn't have time to deal with Donna now, as her friend, Donna understood that she w

My fingers tightly squeezed the pen I had grabbed. I tapped the table with the thin writing tool. I had no clue what I would write. "Name, how about a name." I nodded to myself. I had slowly written the letters to Vera's name. I had used four lines for the job. "Shit," I muttered to myself. I forget to add 'Dear' before Vera's name. I decided against throwing the paper away and starting with a new one. Vera would definitely be upset if she saw me wasting paper. I stylized some butterflies and flowers around her name. About ten minutes had passed and I couldn't sit here in my unproductive manner. I plugged my earphones into my phone and selected a song that would hopefully inspire words to ma

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. “Yes, tell Xavier I said goodbye.” - Darius sat in front of his laptop looking at the document waiting to be filled with words, but his mind was like the document, blank. He couldn’t remember the last time he wrote something that wasn’t for Amoy, the writer’s block he had at this moment was heavy and it didn’t seem like it was ending any time soon. He laid back in his chair, looking at the screen while his mind thought of different ideas that could be used for the first paragraph, but he stopped himself, remembering an important question,

"Is that a promise?" "No, Baby. It's a guarantee." He kissed my cheeks before letting me go. - "Mommy, the glue is not enough," Reid told me. "Do you need more for the scrapbook?" I asked them. "Yes." Their smile widened as they spoke at the same time. "Hmm. All right. Let's buy. What, let’s go?" I invite them. They nodded. "Just wait, ha. I'll talk to our driver first." I got up and went up the stairs. I knocked on the door of Wright’s home office before I could open it. It lowered the paper it was holding and looked at me in amazement.

He immediately added, rolling his eyes. In return, Jake only gave him a deadpan look and sat on his seat once again. He couldn't deny that he needed somebody's presence to relax. Staring at the pile of folders in the table and crumpled pieces of paper on the floor would make him go mad. His work is heavy. And he thought being a writer would mean he'll just write, but a lot of things could happen along the way. Like a writer's block, like what's happening to him right now. He can't even think of one word to start his novel. Not even one word despite having million of words in the dictionary. Something just doesn't feel right. Literally no ideas. Zero. None. "What's with the boo boo face, baby

He thought that she was chatting with someone, but she was actually jotting down notes. The note was filled with all kinds of words for daily use and they were listed down neatly. Sorry. Thank you. I’m happy. How much is this? Strawberry. Apple. Watermelon. All the words felt like they had been copied from Winson’s illustrated cards. The further Blake scrolled, the tighter his brows grew. “Why are you writing all this? Are you trying to make a label or something?” Jessica wrote a page a day, hence there were already three pages of listed words.

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