That feeling where you’re halfway through a sentence and already cringing? You’re not alone. Every writer hits that wall—where the words feel clunky, the ideas feel tired, and your inner critic is yelling louder than your creativity. The good news: feeling like your writing sucks doesn’t mean it actually does. And even if it does, you’re still doing something important. You’re showing up. That counts for more than you think.
Lower the Bar (Like, Way Lower)
One of the quickest ways to stall out is expecting your writing to be “good” as it hits the page. Forget good. Aim for done. Aim for messy and honest. Give yourself permission to write badly—on purpose.
Tell yourself: This draft is allowed to be terrible. Take the pressure off. Let the sentences be awkward. Let the metaphors fall flat. You’re not failing—you’re composting. And compost is what grows the good stuff later.
Remind Yourself That This Is Normal
That thing you’re feeling? It’s called being a writer. Doubt is baked into the process. The people who keep writing aren’t always more talented—they’re just more tolerant of the discomfort.
Even seasoned authors have days where everything feels off. The trick isn’t avoiding those days. It’s learning to write through them.
Keep the Words Moving
Don’t stop to judge. Keep typing. Keep scribbling. Editing is a whole different brain—don’t invite it into the drafting phase. If you find yourself rewriting the same sentence over and over, try this:
- Set a timer for 10 minutes
- Write without stopping, even if it’s nonsense
- Don’t delete a thing
This is about momentum. Writing begets more writing. Self-criticism begets paralysis. Get the words down first. Fix them later.
Use Placeholders
Stuck on a sentence? Write:
“[Insert something better here later]”
Can’t think of the right word? Drop in:
“[??]”
Your brain will relax when it knows it doesn’t have to solve everything right now. You can always come back with fresh eyes. For now, just keep going.
Talk to Yourself Like a Friend, Not a Jerk
If a friend said, “I feel like everything I write is trash,” you wouldn’t say, “Well yeah, maybe you should quit.” You’d remind them of their voice, their effort, their courage.
You need to offer that same kindness to yourself. The work is hard. The fact that you’re even doing it deserves some credit. Be gentle. Be encouraging. You’re not behind. You’re not broken. You’re just writing.
Reframe the Bad Days
A “bad” writing session is still progress. It’s still you showing up to the page. It still counts. The more bad pages you write, the more good ones you’ll eventually find.
Think of the bad pages as the path to the good ones. They’re not wasted—they’re necessary. No one builds something clean without first making a mess.
Collect Evidence
Keep a folder of things you’ve written that you do like. Past lines, paragraphs, or even compliments from readers or friends. When the doubt kicks in, read through it. Remind yourself that you’ve written good stuff before—and you will again.
Your inner critic has a short memory. Sometimes you need to show it receipts.
Write Something Different
If your current project feels heavy, give yourself permission to take a detour. Write a weird short scene. A fake diary entry. A letter to your character. A poem, even if you “don’t write poetry.”
Playfulness shakes you out of stuckness. Not everything has to be serious or productive. Sometimes you need to write justto feel like a writer again.
Remember: No One Sees the Drafts
No one is reading over your shoulder. No one sees the half-sentences, the broken metaphors, the dialogue that makes you cringe. That’s all yours. You get to shape it, fix it, or toss it entirely.
Bad writing in private is part of the deal. Good writing happens after the bad writing. Let the ugly version live—it’s the bridge to something better.
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