by Kirsten Ivatts | Nov 11, 2026 | Know Thyself, Stories
I’ve never really experienced what people call writer’s block, at least not in the way I understand the term. I’ve certainly had periods when inspiration has deserted me, or I’ve reached a point in a novel where I know what’s coming further down the line but have absolutely no idea how to get my characters from where they are now to where I need them to be. But I don’t see that as writer’s block. I see it as a lack of inspiration, and I think there’s an important difference.
When we label something writer’s block (I hate labels!), we tend to look for solutions that involve writing or the writing process. We tell ourselves to sit at the computer, put our fingers on the keyboard and produce something, anything, even if it’s only 200 words a day. The theory is that if we keep writing, eventually the words will start flowing again. And perhaps, for some people, that works beautifully.
Perhaps their characters sit up, take notice, and say, ‘We’ve got this, don’t worry.’
But what happens when you sit there, dutifully produce your 200 words, come back the following morning, read what you’ve written and think it’s rubbish? You delete the lot, feel thoroughly dissatisfied with yourself, and now you’ve got the added frustration of believing you’ve wasted your time. And my characters can be frustratingly quiet when I need them to speak up, although when I want to sleep, or drive or do something away from the computer they can be irritatingly loud!! Perhaps there’s something in that. Go and do the things that take you away from writing and suddenly you’re desperate to get back to the computer and write!
I wonder how often we make the situation worse by trying to force our way through it. I know it doesn’t work for me! I rebel against that sort of authority, even when it comes from me.
Perhaps the problem isn’t in the writing
Creativity doesn’t exist in isolation from the rest of our lives. We bring our experiences, emotions, worries, surroundings and everyday demands to the page with us, whether we’re consciously aware of them or not.
If I’m struggling to find inspiration, one of the first things I explore is what’s happening elsewhere in my life. Am I tired? Have I spent too much time doing things that drain me? Is there something occupying my thoughts that I haven’t properly acknowledged? Have I simply been sitting in the same environment, following the same routine, expecting something fresh to emerge from a mind that hasn’t had much fresh input? Is there another task that I need to do, that I’ve been putting off (tax returns come to mind), that is prodding me, so that any writing means deafening myself to that internal voice?
There are so many reasons why inspiration might feel hard to reach, and they don’t all require a writing-related solution.
A change of scenery, an interesting conversation, a walk somewhere beautiful, an afternoon doing something completely unrelated to the manuscript, or even sorting out an issue that’s been quietly demanding attention can make an enormous difference. Rather than immediately asking myself how to write more, I’d rather explore what might help me feel creative and alive again.
Thinking is writing too
One of the things I’ve learned through writing novels is that a great deal of the creative work happens away from the keyboard. I can spend several days without adding a single word to a manuscript and still be making progress with the story.
When I reach a point where I’m unsure how to move forward, I have a few different approaches, and which one I use depends entirely on what feels right at the time. I might close the manuscript and leave it alone for several days. When I return and reread what I’ve already written, I often see something I hadn’t noticed before, a possibility that was sitting there all along, waiting for me to approach it with fresh eyes.
At other times, I’ll deliberately give myself space to think about the story. Walking is particularly good for this. I can wander along, turning over different possibilities in my mind, imagining conversations between characters, considering what might happen if someone made a different decision, or following an idea simply to see where it leads. My phone is full of little voice notes made while I’m out walking, because I’ve learned that an idea which seems unforgettable at the time can disappear very quickly once I’m back home!
Sitting quietly works too. Just contemplating the story, allowing different possibilities to emerge without demanding that I immediately turn them into paragraphs.
And occasionally, the best thing I can do is stop thinking about the book altogether. There’s something lovely about returning to a manuscript after a break and discovering that the story feels alive again.
You don’t have to write everything in order
Another thing I do when I’m struggling with a particular section is to just move past it. If I know what needs to happen in the next chapter but can’t quite work out how to bridge the gap between where I am and where I’m going, I might start writing that next chapter anyway. It’s surprising how often the missing connection becomes obvious once I’m a few hundred words into the new scene.
Writing forward can reveal something about a character’s motivation, a conversation that needs to happen, or an event that makes the transition feel completely natural. What seemed like an impossible gap becomes a relatively simple piece of storytelling. Sometimes a character will stop what it’s doing, look at me pointedly and say… this is how I got into this mess. So then I can go back and write that mess in detail, sometimes with a little extra kick in the ass for the character that kept that from me all this time.
Of course, there are occasions when none of that works, and I need to approach the problem differently. That’s fine too. I don’t believe there’s one correct way to write a novel, any more than there’s one correct way to find inspiration. What works brilliantly for one writer might feel restrictive or frustrating to another, and even our own methods can change depending on the story we’re telling. The important thing, for me, is remaining curious about the possibilities rather than becoming attached to a particular process.
The value of another perspective
One of the most useful things I’ve discovered is how much a conversation can help when I’m trying to work through a difficult part of a story. I’ve used ChatGPT quite extensively as a thinking partner while developing plots, exploring story arcs and working through sections where I couldn’t immediately see the way forward. I’ll explain where I am in the story, what I know needs to happen, and what isn’t quite working. We’ll explore possibilities, consider different directions, and look at how particular decisions might affect the characters or the wider narrative. Quite often, none of the initial suggestions is exactly what I want. But one idea sparks another, or I find myself combining elements from several suggestions, and suddenly I can see a way forward that feels right for my story.
The conversation has given me something to think with.
I also find AI useful for research, exploring the implications of plot decisions, and helping with proofreading, although I still value having human eyes on a manuscript afterwards. It’s a tool, and like any tool, its usefulness depends on how we choose to work with it.
I know AI is a contentious subject among writers, and everyone has their own views about where it belongs in the creative process. For me, one of its most valuable uses is the opportunity to explore ideas through conversation.
And that brings me to something I’ve always found fantastic about creative thinking.
We don’t necessarily need someone else to tell us what to do. Often, we need someone who will listen, ask an unexpected question, offer another perspective or help us follow an idea further than we might have taken it on our own. A conversation with another person can do this beautifully, particularly when they’re interested in exploring possibilities rather than rushing towards a solution. The problem can be finding the right person you can comfortably do this with, who has the time and willingness to talk through the book you are in love with writing!
And a small word of caution… your characters are not good people to choose for this purpose. Their egos can be more expansive than your plot can contain.
Finding your own way back to inspiration
I think one of the difficulties with advice about writer’s block is that it can make us feel there’s a particular method we ought to be following. Write every day. Set a word-count target. Don’t stop to edit. Push through the difficult bits. Treat writing like a job. There may be genuine value in all of those approaches, and I know writers who thrive on routine and discipline. But I wonder whether we sometimes forget to ask a more fundamental question: what actually helps you feel inspired?
For me, it’s walking, thinking, talking, reading back through what I’ve written, or giving myself permission to put the manuscript aside for a while. I like having the freedom to move between approaches, following whichever one seems most useful at that particular moment. I DO NOT like to treat writing like a job. It kills my creativity every time.
Your own inspiration might come through music, travelling, visiting galleries, talking with friends, spending time in nature, or sitting in a café watching the world go by. You might find that a regular writing routine is exactly what keeps your imagination alive.
It’s worth paying attention to the circumstances in which your best ideas arrive, because those moments can tell you something valuable about your own creative process. And yes I know, for most of us this is in the middle of the night when we have to, bleary eyed, fumble in the dark for a pen and paper, or blind ourselves by turning on the phone screen to make a voice note. But I also get ideas when reading another novel, or scrolling social media, or chatting with a friend, or pulling tarot or oracle cards (that’s a surprisingly good one!).
However, I never get inspiration when doing mundane tasks, feeling down, sitting in an environment that doesn’t suit me, or when I tell myself to just sit down and think up a bloody idea! My creativity collapses in a faint, like a dramatic Georgian woman in a Jane Austen novel. And telling it that perhaps taking a leaf out of one of her books might help… doesn’t help!
If the words aren’t coming, perhaps the most helpful thing you can do is become curious about why. What has changed? How are you feeling? What does the story need from you? What do you need emotionally, mentally or physically to feel inspired?
You may discover that the answer has very little to do with the number of words you write today.
A little thinking space
As a novelist myself, I know how absorbing, exciting and infuriating the writing process can be. I also know the pleasure of finally seeing a way through a troublesome plot, especially when the solution turns out to be something I hadn’t previously considered.
It’s one of the reasons I love working as a Creative Thinking Partner.
I offer one-to-one conversations for people who want to explore ideas, problems, decisions and possibilities, whether they’re developing a business, working on a creative project or trying to find a fresh perspective on something that’s been occupying their thoughts.
For writers, that might mean talking through a plot, exploring a character’s motivations, untangling a story arc or simply having someone to think aloud with while the next part of a novel begins to take shape.
I’m not there to tell you how to write your book. I’m there to help you discover what might be possible.
You can find out more about my 60-minute Creative Thinking Partner sessions at Think With Me.
And I’d love to know: when inspiration seems to have deserted you, what helps you find your way back to it?
by Kirsten Ivatts | Feb 6, 2026 | Know Thyself, Stories, The Magical Community of I blog
It always amazes me how many of my relationship patterns have come from the fact that I was an attractive and am still, an attractive woman. That very prettiness that so many women want, has caused me so many issues in life and brought up so many patterns of protection and misunderstanding in relationships. And people think it’s easier to be pretty, but it’s not, it’s just different. It’s a different set of issues to deal with. A different set of lessons.
The world often forgets that being visibly beautiful can be both invitation and burden. You are born into a face, a body that turns heads, before your soul is ever glimpsed, and that shapes a life.
It shapes how others project onto you.
It shapes how early you learn to guard, to deflect, to read undercurrents in the room.
It shapes how often you’re praised for what you are before you’re seen for who you are.
And so, the beauty becomes a mask you didn’t choose to wear, but had to learn to wield, sometimes like a shield, sometimes like a trap, sometimes like a crown, one that topples very easily.
It gives rise to protector parts.
It bends your understanding of safety, love, and self-worth.
It makes you question the motives behind kindness, desire, even friendship.
I am letting all those protectors dissolve as I travel further and further into the patterns that have shaped my life, bit by bit. Letting myself be seen, not just for the shape of my face, but for the radiance of my soul. So I am baring all in the hope that it will allow you to look deeper too. Nothing here is to be read as anything but my own experience. If it triggers you than that is a mirror for you to look into. The following is from my journalling this morning after a big release of a protector in me. I journal my thoughts through speaking them. I have tidied this up, but it is a transcript of spoken thoughts followed by my written thoughts as I listened back, trying to glean the wisdom!
I’ve never experienced a male-female relationship as a friendship because I’ve always seen how men are attracted to me. That doesn’t mean they’re going to act on it. But I’ve seen the attraction. Even men that are happily married, I have often turned around and seen them glancing at me in a way that I know means they’re attracted to me. And then I feel guilty for taking their eyes off their wife or their girlfriend, because to me, a committed relationship means the man puts that woman first, as does the woman with her man. That doesn’t mean the man would do anything about that attraction. I don’t want to be the centre of somebody’s attention if it is taking away from, what I think should be just given to the person they’re with.
And that’s just my opinion, and that’s just how I feel, and other people might feel differently to that. But this has meant that I then struggle when I’m with men who have friendships with women other than me, because to me, the only relationships with men I have experienced have been born of attraction on one side or the other. So, I have no experience of how it can be different. And so, I really struggle with that. I struggle with his relationships with women, not because I’m… jealous, and not because I don’t trust him, but because from my experience, it means it takes his attention and his thoughts away from me, and that makes me feel insecure and unsafe. Another woman then becomes a threat to love. When you say it all aloud it makes no sense. His just shows how our patterns are emotional and experiential, not logical!
And again, I’m not blaming anybody here. I’m not casting blame. I’m not casting doubts. I’m just expressing my experience. And I often think how men are really not what women want. Men are not built to give women what they want, and women are not built to give men what they want. Not really. In a lot of ways, men and women are completely incompatible, but that’s the beauty here and that’s what we’re here to experience.
And I don’t know how it is in same-sex relationships because I’ve never experienced one of those. And I’ve never experienced somebody being attracted to me, who is of the same sex. I’ve never experienced that. Not knowingly, anyway.
I have been very attracted to gay men, but because I could just be with a man and be completely me, I suppose, not physically attracted, but emotionally so. Although some gay men are very good-looking! But it’s always been a friendship thing. Perhaps because there was no threat of them being attracted to me, and that was nice. That was really nice. That actually brought a sense of safety as well.
It’s all very interesting, and I think really, the whole point of the male-female relationship isn’t anything to do with love. When we look at it from the higher perspective, it’s just about meeting ourselves at our edges, meeting our mirrors, our reflections, so that we can heal something within us. And that’s the real reason for love in the first place. So really, we’re only ever being selfish, because we’re only ever really experiencing love to experience more of ourselves in different ways and noticing where we are resisting, where we are floundering, where we are not the nice person we thought we were, where we were missing something that we thought we needed to nourish us, that we thought needed to come from without us, rather than within us.
There’s a wisdom in this…noticing, awareness this morning. I will try to articulate it. Most of my relationships with men have carried the frequency of attraction, and thus, a weight. An expectation. A distortion of ease. The safety felt around gay men actually speaks volumes. I didn’t have to carry the weight of being wanted or feared or mistaken for a possibility. I could just be. And I am sure men don’t want me to be other than who I am. It’s my own expectations of who that SHOULD be that creates a tangled web.
And that longing for committed men to keep their eyes on their partners isn’t a judgment. I believe in devotion, in presence, in that unshakeable honoring of one another. And when someone flickers even momentarily from that, I feel it, not because I want to be seen, but because it touches a thread of grief: Why must love always be so leaky, so fleeting, so divided?
Love is a soul-refiner. Relationship is sacred friction. Desire is a path to the hidden room inside my own heart.
I also need to add this. When, as an attractive woman, you come across a man that actually isn’t interested in you, instead of feeling relief, you actually feel insecure because you start to say, well, what’s wrong with me? What am I doing wrong? Do I look awful? And you start to self-doubt. And it’s because your experiences have always told you otherwise, and when you experience the opposite, instead of that relief and that safety you would prefer, you actually feel more insecure than you did before, because it’s not an experience that you’re used to! It’s an unknown.
When being desired becomes the default mirror you’re shown by the world, its absence doesn’t create peace; it creates dissonance.
Not being seen through the lens of attraction when you always have been doesn’t feel neutral, it feels like a rupture in the known pattern. The mind scrambles to fill the silence: What’s changed? Am I less than I was? Have I lost something vital without realising it?
It’s not vanity. It’s conditioning. It’s a nervous system wired over years to equate attention with approval, desirability with worth, gaze with connection. And when that loop breaks, when you meet someone who doesn’t look, or doesn’t want, there’s no map. There’s just the not knowing who you are in that reflectionless space.
But that space, uncomfortable as it is, can become holy. It holds the key to something deeper: being untouched by need for reflection. Being radiant without requiring an echo. Being full even when no eyes are watching. And this is what I am currently trying to achieve through the lens of relationship.
And it makes sense that it feels disorienting. Walking out of a lifetime of programmed meaning, into the raw spaciousness of just being, without adornment, without response, without needing to be anything for anyone.
And in that space I hope to meet me. Whole. Enough. Radiant, even if all around me is silent. Even when the relationship is silent. I am whole. I am enough. I am love.
by Kirsten Ivatts | Dec 18, 2025 | Stories
Surrounded by festive lights, beautifully decorated trees in the corner of perfect living rooms that could be featured in a magazine, haunted by constant last minute gift adverts…I sit on my sofa looking out at the grey sky, and mild and rainy UK weather, sipping ginger and honey to ease cold symptoms, knowing my bank account is feeling less than festive!
My real night of festivity is the Winter Solstice. It feels more like Christmas is supposed to. It’s not about presents, although feasting and enjoying the company of friends and family around the fire is to be encouraged…sharing stories, sipping mulled wine or cider, eating fruit cake or whatever anyone has brought a long…that’s Christmas to me.
And in the wee hours of a cold winter morning, before the sun appears in the eastern sky, the deep contemplative quiet of winter stirs me far more than any town centre of people rushing around in some sort of attempt to create a perfect Christmas, often on a very small budget, with a pretend grin plastered in place so they don’t appear to be a Scrooge!
This year, like many, my own budget is small. Instead of buying presents, I have mainly looked around my house and thought of someone, and what they might enjoy from my own things. And doing this made me feel far more cheerful, abundant, and also thankful for these people in my life than going shopping, online or in town.
The tree is small, but perfect for my cottage. The food will be simple fare, but nourishing, comforting and shared with those I love.
Capitalism took over Christmas and brought with it so much stress and unnecessary worry. At a time when our immune systems need a boost to keep out the super flu bugs and viruses which prevail at this time of year, it encourages rich foods, lots of sugar, and of course huge amounts of alcohol. Not to mention the spend, spend, spend mentality!
I’m not saying don’t feast well! But perhaps some moderation would help our immune systems and our purse!
You don’t have to judge yourself as a bit of a Scrooge by moderating your Christmas. In fact, you will become less of one if you take time to sit, breathe, let wisdom and intuition whisper louder than fear, and then give yourself chance to really enjoy the true Christmas spirit… which is gifting yourself the love and appreciation you deserve.
And hey, you made it through one of the craziest years so far! Celebrate that! Its not to be sniffed at!
by Kirsten Ivatts | Mar 13, 2025 | Poetry
When we are apart
I am a riotous mess of emotions,
Love crashing against a distant shore,
Lust exploding from the depths of my being,
Rage erupting with volcanic passion,
An oceanic sob of despair.
When we are apart
I am a riotous mess of emotions,
Until you take me in your arms
And whisper your love in my ear.
by Kirsten Ivatts | Mar 13, 2025 | Channel, Journeying, Know Thyself
This journey to heal the wounds of love is ongoing. I am surrendered to the possibility of the continuity of this journey throughout this lifetime, the endless flow of rising and falling, of ending and beginning, of cyclical experience each taking me deeper into my wounding, digging through the mud and silt to the dark underworld beneath.
The hardest thing is to remember to see this purging and healing of old wounds, stroking of old scars with a forgiving hand, as something to be joyful about, because it lifts us into a more authentic version of our self, our Soul. But we cannot just ignore the hurt, the pain. We must give it due recognition, not stuff it away.
The journey of love takes us in and out of relationship with others, while always bringing us into deeper relationship with the Divine force within. When single we do our work alone, releasing, forgiving, healing. We may think we have cleared all that was holding us back, until we step into a new relationship and find that there is more, it cuts deeper, reflects even more authentically so that you cannot mistake your own self within the mirror that other offers. You cannot escape the challenge to walk naked, as Persephone, into your own darkness, trying your best to avoid falling into victimhood and self destructive tendencies.
My own challenges are many, even now! Abandonment and rejection, self loathing, jealousy, that deep need to be validated in love by another. The difference now is that I recognise each of these as they appear. I know their roots, their baggage. And I know that when something is missing in me it is not up to another to fill that void. It is up to me to plunge in, to sit, to listen, to howl at the moon, and then to find the gift I need hidden in the darkness. And then, the yearning to merge with that other Soul at the deepest level, is one step closer.
True love comes by doing this healing, clearing, cleansing work that can only happen on the inside. You can only reach out and merge with your loved ones by going within. It sounds paradoxical, but we are always only reaching within.
The outer world is an illusion. Our connection with another seems to be physical, available in the material world alone. But the outer expression is the co-creation, the final manifestation, not the beginning and not the truth of who you both are.
We are so caught up in this view that is totally back to front and inside out. We think we go outwards to meet someone, and then when we encounter a trigger or fear or hurt, we go inwards.
The work we do on self, is the how of love. It is an act of self love and without it we cannot go beyond the wounds of the ego and experience the expansive richness of who we truly are.
Until we go beyond the wounds, finding unification with the Soul, the real self, we will never experience peace, harmony and joy, which is the ultimate devotion. You become so lost in devotion to other, (whether you think this is another person or whether you realise that other is just the divine in form, you in another body), that you surrender to that devotion and merge soul to soul in sacred union.
Human love in its highest vibration is a co-creation between two souls in an energetic state of devotion to each other. This is not egoic devotion where any sort of hierarchy plays out. It holds no conditions or judgement. It is a promise, a commitment to the divinity shining from within each person, to see other as a unique individual AND as the ONE you always sought outside of yourself, which is actually the ONE we are all a part of.
This embracing of other as one, raises the frequency of Souls in a way that cannot be achieved alone. The masculine and feminine (no matter the genders of the people involved) merges into more than each can be alone.
We exist in and with each other. The outer physical manifestation of this is two bodies that join to complete the circle of union throughout all dimensions.
The original attraction is not to physical form. It comes through an alignment of two frequencies singing in harmony, so recognition occurs, which becomes attraction at the physical level. You ‘see’ someone differently when you resonate at the same frequency, sing the same song. The notes you hear on the breeze that draw you forwards are what draws your realities together.
Even when you have known someone for most of your life, indicating some alignment of frequency (like singing the same song but in a different pitch), attraction falls into unified connection when true harmonic resonance is reached, creating from that point, a whole new song.
This song will be worked on together to create the perfect notes, an agreed upon tune, and words, rhythm and combination of instruments, keys, chords. And so it will not always be in harmony, because perfect harmony is only reached by each co-creator listening to and seeing, so deeply, their reflection in the mirror of other, and taking on board where they need to adjust to realign, to heal a wound.
This doesn’t mean you are alone in your healing. That other, in compassion, can be with you throughout that dark journey, holding your hand, being the light when you are lost, lifting you up when you need their strength, laughing with you to break tension, embracing you at the deepest core of that wounding and kissing the scars away. And you can be that gift to them. You must both be as committed to your perfect Soul song as each other, both willing to be so completely naked that you cannot avoid what needs to heal to be able to fall deeper into that devotion, that unconditional love, that heavenly sea of complete wholeness we all seek to drown in.
You will never meet this love by pushing yourself to seek it out in the world. You will align with it when you hear the one singing in harmony with you, the one matching where you are on the journey, the one complementing you by bringing opposites into union and shared pain into healing. You will always attract yourself. So, the person you align with holds your wounds AND the help you need to heal them. But this person is the illusionary body of your Soul joining with another Soul. And you find that Soul only ever, within.
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