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Eri Ikezawa (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

 

That petulant blinking line on an empty document, where each passing moment feels like judgment day, as time elapses with not a single iota of progress—we’ve all experienced it to some degree in our lives: writer’s block. Whether it’s the struggle of writing a university paper or unraveling the knot in our heads to finish the main plot of our creative writing endeavour, in some way or another, we have all combated this frustrating phenomenon. 

As a fan of occasional creative writing, I think it would be unfair to compare myself to a person who makes their livelihood as an author. However, I often unintentionally avoid writing when I am not inspired—a stab at ensuring I keep writer’s block at an arm’s length, giving it a wide berth like the creative pariah that it is. 

It is easy for me to circumvent writer’s block since I know I tend to be most inspired when I am sad—something I am very consciously aware of. I have grown to realize that when I am happy, I usually tend to be too busy thriving and being active to desire focusing on writing and I also usually tend not to be as introspective during those times. And so, for that reason, I feel most inspired and creative when I experience a dip in my life. 

As painful and agonizing as whatever I may be experiencing in real time may be, the artistic side of me finds some sort of beauty in it too. It also becomes something like a physical relic of whatever event is affecting me—in fact, I have a diary dating back to 2007. Even though I feel intensely dissociated from the person I was fifteen years ago, it is magical being able to step into my shoes and view everything the way I did back then. 

And so, I find I experience writer’s block when I try to write poetry when I haven’t recently experienced anything memorable or inspirational. I never directly look for inspiration, but sometimes it’s a certain song, a turn of phrase I read in a book, a scene in a nature documentary, or I just use it as an emotional release during difficult times. 

With all that said, I suppose I simply don’t often experience writer’s block because I usually actively avoid it by not writing unless I literally feel a tingle in my fingers, teasing and taunting me to set the page on fire—all it takes is a spark. 

But if anything, the closest I personally get to experiencing writer’s block is through these blog submissions. I am intensely passionate about the topic of self-help and development and deeply desire to make a difference in people’s lives, but it is a personal challenge for me to be given a broad theme with a specific topic—rather than the personal “freelance” kind of writing I tend to gravitate towards. 

I find that I usually hit a wall after writing for a while so I don’t try to push it, knowing it will be a fruitless endeavour. I usually pick it back up on a different day when my mind has been refreshed; although there is a whole separate challenge in picking it up on a different day, when the engine has been turned off once, to try and reprise the same journey you were on another day. 

But I find it easier to go through the speedbumps and clunky alleyways of stopping once and restarting over the hassle of driving straight through when the mind is tired, and the gas tank is empty. The greatest struggle of this method is ensuring what follows is streamlined and seamless. That is, it shouldn’t look as though an expert seamstress handed over the remaining work to a novice, the uniform lines of the first few threads turning arbitrary and clumsy, sure signs of a rookie.

Despite the fact I don’t always experience this troublesome phenomenon, I still empathize greatly with the struggle of writer’s block. I suppose in some ways I pride myself on my literary skills, having always prioritized my affinity with language and writing as extremely high on my list of strengths. Therefore, when I feel stumped—a relentless fool running into the same, sturdy brick wall for the umpteenth time—it feels like a personal affront to what I inherently believe best characterizes me to some extent. 

While I logically understand that writer’s block doesn’t unequivocally define my literary skills or my abilities as a person, it can occasionally leave me restless and insecure. It feels like an itch I can’t scratch, a sore I can’t relieve, a burn I can’t soothe—it’s constantly thrumming in the back of my head, reminding me that there’s something I need or want to accomplish but that I’m somehow unable to manage. 

Ultimately though, just as the circumstances of writer’s block befalling any author or writer is variable, the solution for it is also dependent on the individual. I don’t think there is one singular way to rectify the problem. If I were to make suggestions that have helped me out in the past, one idea I have is having friends edit your work or contribute their own ideas. Sometimes, it helps to put the work down and immerse yourself in the real world. And on other occasions, you simply must wait until the dry spell passes and rain graces the literary drought. 

But no matter what and no matter how long your writer’s block endures, I want to remind people that it does not define your skill or you as a person—you are still as talented as ever. And the dry spell, as always, will pass.  

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My name is Eri Ikezawa and I have an extended minor in psychology and a major in linguistics. I’m still on the path to quelling questions about myself and the direction I want to head in, but in the meantime, I have always wanted to find a way to help others and contribute to a community dedicated to personal development and self-love.