Feeling Overwhelmed with Your Writing Project? Try These Tips
If you’ve ever opened a blank document, stared at the blinking cursor, and thought, “Where do I even start?”—trust me, you’re not alone. Writing can be one of the most rewarding things we do, but it can also feel like wrestling with fog. Sometimes, it’s not even the lack of ideas—it’s the weight of wanting to get it just right.
I’ve been there—sitting with my coffee, convincing myself that once I have the “perfect idea,” I’ll start. Spoiler: that idea never came until I started typing something. The truth is, feeling overwhelmed isn’t a sign you’re bad at writing—it’s a sign that you care. And once you understand where that overwhelm comes from, it becomes a lot easier to manage.
What’s Actually Making You Feel Stuck
Here’s what I’ve noticed after years of writing (and procrastinating): most of the time, the problem isn’t the writing itself—it’s what’s happening in our heads.
We overthink every sentence before it’s even written. We compare our first draft to someone else’s final masterpiece. And we tell ourselves stories like, “I’m not creative enough,” or “This has already been said better.” Those thoughts quietly drain your confidence before your fingers even touch the keyboard.
Think of it this way—if you were painting, you wouldn’t expect the first brushstroke to look like a gallery piece. Writing is the same. Your first few words aren’t supposed to be brilliant—they’re supposed to exist. Once they do, you have something to work with.
When I finally stopped judging my drafts and just wrote freely—even nonsense paragraphs—the fog lifted. It’s funny, but sometimes, the act of writing badly is what leads to writing well.
Simple Shifts That Actually Help
Here are some things that have genuinely worked for me and for other writers I know. They’re not magic tricks—but they work when you use them consistently.
Set micro-goals. Don’t aim to write ten pages—just aim to finish one paragraph. Tiny wins add up faster than you think.
Write badly on purpose. This one feels rebellious, but it’s powerful. When I give myself permission to write the worst draft possible, my brain relaxes. And ironically, that’s when the best ideas sneak in.
Have a no-distraction ritual. Maybe it’s putting your phone in another room, lighting a candle, or setting a timer for 25 minutes. Whatever helps your mind know, “It’s writing time now,” use it.
Change your environment. I once wrote half an article sitting on my balcony just because I was tired of my desk. New surroundings shake loose new thoughts.
Celebrate progress, not perfection. Keep a “done” list. Even if it’s just, “wrote 200 words,” that’s momentum—and momentum beats motivation every single time.
When You Can’t Write, Try Moving Differently
Sometimes the best thing to do for your writing is to stop writing. I know that sounds counterintuitive, but our brains need space to breathe.
When I hit a wall, I go for a short walk or switch to something completely unrelated—washing dishes, doodling, or reading a page from a favorite author. It’s wild how often ideas show up right after I step away.
Here are a few little resets that help when you’re stuck:
- Take a walk without your phone. Let your brain wander.
- Freewrite about literally anything for five minutes. It unclogs your thoughts.
- Read something you love—not to imitate, but to remember why you love words in the first place.
Writing doesn’t always happen at the keyboard. Sometimes it happens in the moments you give yourself to think, breathe, or even do nothing at all.
And that’s the secret most people don’t tell you: writing isn’t about forcing words—it’s about finding your rhythm. Once you give yourself permission to move differently, the overwhelm starts to fade, and the words find their way back to you.
Simple Shifts That Actually Help
Here’s the thing about writing—it’s not just about skill. It’s about momentum. And when you’re feeling overwhelmed, momentum is the very thing that feels impossible to find. But I’ve learned something over the years: if you make small, realistic changes to how you approach writing, that heavy feeling starts to loosen its grip.
These aren’t hacks or quick fixes; they’re mindset shifts that slowly retrain your brain to see writing as a process, not a test. Let’s walk through them together.
Set Micro-Goals
We all dream of finishing the big project—the article, the novel, the client piece—but that dream can sometimes feel more like a threat than a goal. The gap between where you are and where you want to be can look so wide that you never even start. That’s why micro-goals are life-changing.
I once had to write a 2,000-word feature article that felt impossible. I kept staring at the outline, paralyzed. Then I decided to write just one paragraph a day—even if it was messy. By the end of the week, I had five solid sections done. The crazy part? The pressure disappeared. Small wins build momentum, and momentum builds confidence.
When you focus on finishing one small piece instead of the whole mountain, you start to see progress faster. That little bit of progress is your antidote to overwhelm.
Write Badly on Purpose
This one sounds wild, but hear me out. When I sit down to write, there’s always this voice in my head whispering, “Make it good.” And that voice is the reason I sometimes spend 15 minutes rewriting the same sentence.
So one day, I decided to write like no one would ever read it. Typos, run-on sentences, awkward phrasing—everything was allowed. And guess what? It worked. Once the pressure to be perfect vanished, ideas started flowing.
Here’s the thing—you can’t edit a blank page, but you can fix a messy one. That’s the beauty of writing badly. It gives your brain permission to play instead of perform. And often, those ugly first drafts contain the most authentic, emotional lines—the ones that resonate the most later.
If you struggle with this, try setting a “bad writing timer.” Give yourself 10 minutes to write the worst version of your idea. No stopping, no deleting, no correcting. When the timer ends, you’ll usually find a few sparks worth keeping.
Have a No-Distraction Ritual
Distractions are the enemy of flow. I used to think I just lacked discipline, but I eventually realized I was trying to write in a world that’s designed to steal my attention.
That’s when I created a ritual—a little routine that tells my brain, “Okay, it’s writing time.” It’s nothing fancy. I make tea, light a candle, close my tabs, and set a 25-minute timer. During that time, my only job is to write. Not edit, not check my phone, not scroll. Just write.
It’s like flipping a mental switch. The first few minutes might be rough, but once I get past that resistance, I fall into the zone. Having a ritual anchors your focus—it turns writing from a random act into a habit.
Change Your Environment
You’d be surprised how much your surroundings affect your creativity. When I’m in the same chair, looking at the same wall, my brain starts associating that space with frustration. So, I shake things up.
Sometimes, I take my laptop to a café or even move to the kitchen table. Other times, I write longhand in a notebook. Those little changes wake my brain up in surprising ways. A change of scenery often equals a change of energy.
You don’t need a fancy office or a cabin in the woods. You just need variety. The goal is to trick your brain out of its “stuck” loop.
Celebrate Progress, Not Perfection
We’re wired to look for what’s missing instead of what’s done. But if you only focus on what you haven’t written, writing will always feel like punishment.
I started keeping a simple “done list.” After every writing session, I jot down what I accomplished: “Wrote 300 words,” “Fixed the intro,” “Brainstormed headlines.” It sounds small, but seeing that list grow makes me realize I’m moving forward.
Progress is progress, even when it’s imperfect. Once you start celebrating effort instead of outcomes, the whole process feels lighter—and that’s when creativity starts flowing again.
When You Can’t Write, Try Moving Differently
Sometimes the problem isn’t your words—it’s your energy. You can’t force creativity the way you force yourself to fold laundry. Writing thrives on rhythm, and when that rhythm breaks, the best fix is often to move—literally and mentally.
Step Away to Step Forward
When I’m stuck, I don’t sit there glaring at the screen. I walk away. Sometimes it’s just five minutes to stretch or get water, but that tiny break resets my focus. I’ve even had breakthroughs while brushing my teeth or folding laundry.
Your brain needs idle moments to connect ideas subconsciously. When you step away, your mind keeps working in the background. It’s like hitting refresh without realizing it.
Try Freewriting
If walking doesn’t help, I go for freewriting—a simple, no-rules exercise where I write whatever comes to mind for five minutes straight. It doesn’t have to make sense. It’s just a way to clear the mental clutter.
One time, I started with, “I have no idea what to write about,” and ended up uncovering a story I’d completely forgotten about. Freewriting helps your thoughts spill out before they block you. It’s part therapy, part discovery.
Change the Medium
If typing feels heavy, switch to handwriting. There’s something magical about putting pen to paper—it slows you down just enough to think clearly. I also record voice notes sometimes when ideas hit me during a walk.
Changing the medium forces your brain to engage differently, which can reignite your creative spark.
Use Inspiration, Not Comparison
We’ve all fallen into the trap of scrolling through beautifully written articles or published authors and thinking, “Why bother?” But inspiration isn’t meant to make you feel small—it’s meant to remind you of what’s possible.
When I feel that twinge of envy, I study how they wrote something I liked. Did they use humor? Short sentences? Vivid imagery? Learning from others instead of comparing to them shifts you from insecurity to curiosity.
Curiosity fuels creativity. The moment you start asking “how” instead of “why can’t I,” you’re back in motion.
Remember, It’s Okay to Rest
Sometimes, no tip or trick will work—and that’s fine. You’re not a machine. Writing is deeply human, and humans need rest.
There have been weeks when I’ve written nothing but journal entries. At first, I felt guilty, but later I realized those moments were refilling the creative well. You can’t pour from an empty mind. Rest isn’t a break from writing—it’s part of writing.
So if you’re drained, give yourself grace. Step away. Read. Wander. Live. When you return, the words will come easier, fuller, and truer.
Before You Leave
If you take anything from this, let it be this: writing doesn’t have to feel like drowning. It’s okay to slow down, to write badly, to stop when you’re empty. Every writer you admire has faced that same blank page—and found their way through.
When you feel overwhelmed, remember that progress doesn’t always look like typing. Sometimes it looks like thinking, resting, or scribbling half-baked ideas. That’s all part of the process.
The overwhelm will come and go, but your voice—the reason you started writing in the first place—that stays. And once you start treating your writing like a conversation with yourself instead of a performance for others, it becomes what it was meant to be all along—something real, honest, and completely yours.
