Writer’s Block Lately Feels Like…

Is it a lazy summer slump in my brain or something else?

Steffany Ritchie
3 min readAug 12

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Photo by KoolShooters : https://www.pexels.com/photo/a-man-burning-paper-6980698/

I’m stuck.

I can’t seem to write anything lately, for a few weeks anyway. Editing old drafts leads nowhere. I decide I can never publish them or hate them and sometimes delete them and regret it. Memoir writer problems am I right.

New ideas are flimsy. I feel unmotivated. Maybe I am just lazy. Stuck. Oh I said that already. I am not kidding when I say I’m in writer’s block!

I can’t even blame Medium. I did really well last month (for me, my goals are modest, no I can’t loan you money! 😉). Maybe I am just lazy with self-satisfaction. Maybe it’s fear of failure/not keeping it going. Maybe I think I have peaked.

No, definitely not. Every time I write something that does well my inner critic kicks in about all of the things I might have done to make it better. I used to edit post-publication a lot more than I do now, but post Boost I am nervous it will mess with my reads/the algorithm (I have no idea if this is a thing but I read it somewhere once and I am nothing if not superstitious).

Seemingly everyone is on vacation in Italy or someplace else fun. I have no vacations planned or on the horizon. Wah.

So why can’t I write? I have no excuse.

The internet is distracting, binge watching shows about cowboys I only half like is distracting.

I am bored of writing about myself but can’t think of anything else to write about. Wow, how lame and dumb is my imagination?

I have written a few memoir things that I can’t seem to hit publish on. I wish I had had the guts to write them when I was younger, now I feel what is the point. I am hovering around moments in time that have elements of the unsaid: the loose threads, the wounded heart.

They aren’t tidy; I can’t pretend to have a neat lesson learned. It’s hard to be entirely honest without feeling like I am somehow betraying my current life if that makes sense.

To write about things, long-buried past things, requires submersion into a head and heart space that is another person, another life from who I am now. And how does doing this serve anyone? Are some…

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Steffany Ritchie

Hi, I write memoir, essays, music, and pop culture. American in Scotland.