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?