Let’s talk about the part of writing no one romanticizes: the hard days.
You know the ones—where the blank page feels heavier than it should, when every word you write sounds flat, when doubt whispers louder than inspiration. These are the days that separate “having an idea” from finishing a book.
Writing is often portrayed as this dreamy process filled with coffee shop musings, candlelit brainstorming, and bursts of unstoppable creativity. And sure—some days look like that. But most of the time? Writing is work. It’s problem-solving. It’s sitting in silence, waiting for clarity that sometimes never comes.
I’ve lived in that silence more times than I can count. While writing Echoes of Elsewhere, I questioned the entire premise more than once. The multiverse mechanics, the emotional arc, the character motivations—I doubted all of it at different points. But I kept going. Not because I always felt confident, but because I found ways to keep the creative flame alive—even when it flickered.
If you’re a writer walking through one of those hard seasons, here are the tools, practices, and mindset shifts that have helped me stay inspired when writing feels like a mountain instead of a spark.
Reconnect With the Original Idea
Every story begins with a single spark. A moment of inspiration. A scene, a line, a question you had to explore. That’s your anchor. When the story feels like it’s unraveling, I pause everything and go back to the origin. For Echoes of Elsewhere, the original idea wasn’t just about fractured realities. It was about a girl trying to hold the world—and herself—together through memory. That emotional center gave meaning to every scene. And when I lost my way, returning to that idea reminded me why the story mattered in the first place.
Try this: Write down your original spark on a sticky note or in a journal. Revisit it often. Let it be your compass when the path gets foggy.
Change Your Space to Change Your Energy
Creativity is deeply connected to environment. The same room, the same desk, the same lighting—it all builds mental routine, and sometimes that routine becomes a rut.
When I feel stuck, I don’t fight the page. I move. I write at the kitchen table instead of my office. I take my notebook to the park. I grab my laptop and go to a quiet café, or sit in the car with the windows down and ambient music playing.
You don’t have to go far. Sometimes changing a light bulb, rearranging your writing space, or switching from keyboard to pen is enough to shift your mindset. Movement disrupts stagnation. Creativity thrives in flow.
Tip: Pair location changes with scene changes. Writing a high-emotion chapter? Try a setting that puts you in the right headspace.
Consume Intentionally to Refuel
When writing feels dry, it’s a sign you might be creatively depleted. You’ve poured out, and now it’s time to fill back up. But refueling isn’t about mindlessly consuming content. It’s about seeking stories, images, and ideas that resonate with what you’re trying to create. If I’m writing about emotional disconnection, I’ll re-watch a film that captures that tone. If I’m struggling with pacing, I’ll study a well-structured novel and ask: How did they do it?
Intentional inspiration isn’t copying. It’s creative cross-pollination.
Ask:
What’s a book, show, or soundtrack that captures the feeling of my story?
What piece of art reminds me of my protagonist’s inner world?
Let those experiences speak to your creativity without demanding immediate output.
Write Smaller to Keep the Engine Running
A full-length novel is a massive commitment. When your brain is tired, staring down the next chapter can feel paralyzing. That’s when I shift gears and write smaller.
A one-page journal entry from my character’s POV
A scene I don’t plan to use but want to explore
A moment from another character’s past
A few lines of dialogue that capture a future conflict
This kind of writing doesn’t carry the same pressure. It allows you to stay inside the story without demanding perfection. Often, these “throwaway” exercises become the seed for your best scenes later.
Talk It Out (Even to Yourself)
You don’t need a full writing group to get unstuck—you just need a voice. I walk and talk. Literally. I pace and ramble my way through plot holes, character choices, or emotional beats until I find something that clicks. Talking externalizes the tangle in your head. Even if it’s just explaining the problem to your dog, hearing it out loud reframes it. Even better—if you have a writing friend, schedule a chat. You don’t need critique, just someone to bounce ideas off. Sometimes the breakthrough comes not from their advice, but from the clarity you find in articulating the problem.
Give Yourself Permission to Pause
Here’s the truth I resisted for a long time:
Rest is not weakness. It’s creative maintenance.
If your story is silent, don’t scream at it. Step away. Touch grass. Cook a meal. Sleep. Let your mind wander without expectation. Some of my best breakthroughs have come during downtime—when I stopped trying to force progress and just lived for a moment. Pausing isn’t giving up. It’s preparing to return stronger.
Reminder: Pauses can be short or long. What matters is that they’re intentional. You’re stepping back to breathe—not to quit.
Embrace the Messy Middle
The middle of a story is where doubt creeps in the loudest. The beginning is exciting. The ending is imagined. The middle? The middle is where you realize how complex your idea really is.
That’s not failure. That’s writing.
If you’re here—stuck, uncertain, overwhelmed—you’re not broken. You’re just building. And building something meaningful is never easy. Let your characters evolve. Let the plot shift. Let the first draft be messy. That’s not something to fix—it’s something to expect.
Final Thoughts: Inspiration Is a Practice, Not a Feeling
Staying inspired as a writer isn’t about waiting for lightning. It’s about creating small sparks—daily, weekly, even hourly—that keep you moving forward when the fire dims.
You’re not failing because it’s hard. You’re succeeding because you’re still showing up.
So when writing gets hard—and it will—go back to the idea that started it. Shift your space. Refill creatively. Talk it through. Rest without guilt. Write a single sentence, even if it feels small. Because progress is still progress, even if no one sees it yet.
Your story deserves to be told. And you’re the only one who can tell it.