Most writers will face (or have faced) the paradoxical quandary of wanting to write, dreaming of the perfect project, but struggle to put pen to paper.
We truly want to tell our stories. We want to “be an author”. But for so many reasons, this gap between desire and action can feel vast, insurmountable, and sometimes ultimately defeating. But why is this transition from desire to action so challenging, and how can we consciously bridge the divide?
Here are a few typical scenarios that holds an “aspiring writer” back:
The Avoided Task
There’s a writing project you’ve been meaning to start. Maybe it’s an article, a chapter, or the outline of a whole new novel. Yet, each day you delay. Something about it feels uncertain and uncomfortable, leading to endless procrastination. When you finally sit down to write, it’s surprisingly easier than you feared, and you wonder why it took you so long to begin. But this doesn’t help in the long run, and the next time you face a writing session, procrastination creeps in all over again.
The Perpetually Delayed Project
You have a larger project in mind—a novel, a serial, a series of essays, or a screenplay. But you keep telling yourself it’s not the right time. You’re not emotionally ready, you’re not skilled enough yet, or life is too hectic. Even when you find some free time, other excuses arise because the thought of starting feels like stepping into the unknown. You feel you should “clear the decks” before you begin.
The Hesitant Commitment
You want to join a writers’ workshop, hire a writing coach, or enroll in a course to sharpen your skills. But doubts creep in—will you be good enough? Is it worth the investment? What if you don’t follow through? This indecision keeps you stuck in a loop of hesitation.
What’s holding us back? In any of these or similar scenarios?
Understanding the Roadblocks (SPOILER: It’s All About Fear)
All of this hesitation and delay inevitably boils down to fear and the uncertainty of the unknown.
It might seem counterintuitive, but it’s seriously true that the most effective way to overcome these obstacles is to step directly into them.
We don’t write because we fear not writing well enough. We don’t write because we fear it not living up to the ideal in our minds. We don’t write because we fear something coming to stop us once we’ve started. We don’t write because we don’t yet know exactly what we’re writing.

It’s only writing that will let us have written.
This might sound like a stupidly obvious thing but for the fear laden writer struggling to start and wondering why they can’t give themselves what they want, it’s a simple truth that holds the key to creative release.
Bridging the Divide Between Desire And Action
Set The Intention
Be intentional. Consciously decide to take action. Set a time, stick to the time. No matter how painful, awkward, frightened, or any other number of difficult emotions you might feel as you begin, let them all happen right alongside your writing. Let other distraction pass, deal with it all afterwards, and keep writing.
Keep It Small
You’re not in this space to forge an entirely new writing practice, and sit and pull out thousands of words in one sitting. That’s too big, too much, too scary, too overwhelming. You’re only here to break the pattern that’s been keeping you from the page and starting that single nudge that your future momentum will build on. This can happen with a single sentence. A single sentence is easy. It doesn’t even have to be a good sentence. Just write something. Anything. If it feels good, write another sentence. If it doesn’t feel good, write another sentence anyway. Feeling good will come.
If even a single sentence is too daunting, even a single word too much, then just sit down in your writing space. Open the document. Let that be enough for today and try for a word tomorrow.
Clarify Your Desire
Reflect on what you truly want. What do you want to write? Why do you want to be a writer? Is this project or task deeply meaningful to you? Why does all this excite you? Not everyone wants to write or to be a long-term writer. Why do you? There are plenty of other things in the world you could spend your time doing. Why are you here trying to make yourself into a writer?
Acknowledge the Fear
Notice any uncertainty and fear in your body. A tightness in your chest, a swirling in your belly, a tingle in your arms, a jitter in your legs, a fog in your mind. Acknowledge these sensations with grace and compassion. They’re only there trying to keep you safe from the horrors of the unknown. Your nervous system doesn’t know that writing a crappy sentence can’t actually hurt you. Prove it to your overprotective nerves and write that crappy sentence. And on that…
Write Crap On Purpose
Take embracing imperfection to the next level and intentionally write as badly as you can. Half sentences, scenes entirely made of dialogue, disordered structure. It doesn’t matter how base these words and their structure are, as long as it’s some form of murky progress.
Writing this terrible mess can trick the critical mind into relaxing, while your creative mind takes the stage. This process also brings a sense of liberated playfulness to the work, which is a beautiful place for your creativity to thrive in. When you’re done making a mess, congratulate yourself. You’ve just completed a legitimate writing practice called skeleton drafting.
Have fun with this so that you can…
Find Joy in the Process
Writing is not a terrible thing. It’s not holding someone’s life in your hands. It’s not deciding the fate of nations. It’s not constructing monuments. Whether that’s fiction or nonfiction, writing is only about telling stories. It’s connecting with something true inside yourself. It’s fun! It’s playful. It’s joyful. Seek that joy. Transform this work from the mundane and the arduous to the rapturously sacred. Or just some whimsical little adventure you’re letting yourself take. Either way, find that shiny warm feeling and it will keep drawing you back to the page with its light.
Writing is a practice. Not a practice as in a training or rehearsal that you do in order to prepare for some future “real” event, but a practice in something that you do over and over again.
We can never have that practice without the actual doing, and no amount of dreaming and wishing and desiring will get you there. Only writing will make you a writer.