The year-end has always been my favorite time of the year. It’s a season of reflection, a time when we collectively pause to measure our progress, celebrate our victories, and confront our shortcomings. It’s a time of revelations and realizations, but most importantly, it’s a time for change. And change, though daunting for some, is something we desperately need—especially now, as we navigate the new normal shaped by the pandemic.

2020 was supposed to be a landmark year, a year that rhymed with clarity (twenty-twenty), but instead, it delivered a plot twist none of us saw coming. When Paragraphic Journal came into existence, summer 2020 was fading into the rearview mirror. Personally, I hadn’t accomplished much during those progressive months. My thought process for my works-in-progress was a tangled mess, compounded by my role as a devoted parent to my incredible autistic son. And then, of course, there was the pandemic—a universal curveball that upended everything.

Yet, somehow, all these challenges became the solid foundation for this mini-project.

Having experienced three major hiatuses in my blogging journey since 2002, I’ve come to a conclusion that might ruffle some feathers: creative block doesn’t actually exist. Before you come at me, hear me out. I say this because I’ve lived through this so-called “non-existent” phenomenon.

How can one go through something that doesn’t exist? It’s a valid question, but let me explain.

I’ve revisited my writings and blog entries from as far back as 2002 (no, you can’t find them—they’ve vanished from the internet). I mapped out the periods when I wrote prolifically and the times when I didn’t write at all. What emerged was a pattern: my most productive moments came during times of transition—when I was either healing from a setback or crashing headfirst into one. In other words, the creative block isn’t a blockage at all; it’s a coping mechanism. It doesn’t exist as a standalone entity but rather as a byproduct of the conscious creative mind.

But wait—some people claim it’s possible to write every single day!

Technically, yes, anyone can write daily. But what I’m talking about is writing something substantial, something that resonates and connects. Seasoned writers don’t write every day, and they certainly don’t recommend it. However, there is a way to navigate this process.

Professionally, my background is in Information Technology, with a major in Multimedia and Web Development. Anyone in IT, regardless of their specialization, has likely studied System Analysis/Design and Project Management.

Wait, stop! I know what you’re thinking: We’re not from the same background, duh!

Of course not. I only mentioned it as a humble brag.

Kidding aside, I want to simplify this: anyone can write, regardless of their mental or emotional state, as long as they keep a few key things in mind. And I believe the pandemic is the perfect time to embrace this.

Have you noticed the surge in creative output across all forms of art lately? There’s a reason for that.

So, here are five ways to tackle The Block—because, like it or not, you just have to face it.

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1. Take It Easy, Take It Slow

The pandemic has forced us into a highly stressful situation where we’re left with two choices: fight or flight. Both are valid, and both require grit. But whatever time you have on your hands, use it to slow down. Breathe. If you’re staring down a deadline, skip to Point #3.

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2. Keep a Journal

Write a whole page of random thoughts, scribble, doodle—it doesn’t matter. The point is to keep writing. It doesn’t have to be profound or meaningful. This practice helps unload stress and creates space for expression. It’s still part of the block, but it’s progress.

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3. Keep a Planner

And make it an un-dated one. Those who bought 2020 planners learned this the hard way. Plan as you go. Create and re-create mind maps, charts, or whatever works for you. Mark your due dates, but in between, just go with the flow. Which brings us to Point #4.

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4. Ditch the To-Do Lists

Instead of a rigid to-do list, try a modus operandi. List your goals and sketch out how you’ll achieve them. The tasks will naturally fall into place, and you won’t feel overwhelmed by a checklist of 100 things to tick off in a day.

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5. Be Good to Yourself

Take timeouts. Have tea or coffee. Hike, walk, jog. If you’re in lockdown, embrace the excuse to binge Netflix—but keep a pen and notebook nearby. Don’t just watch; observe. Let others’ creativity inspire you.

And sleep. Sleep is more important than eating. You can indulge in comfort food and gain a few pounds (who cares? It’s your body), but your mind is sacred. You know yourself better than anyone—even your therapist. Sleep is medicine for the brain. Don’t wait until you need sleeping pills; why do you think they’re so commonly prescribed during mental breakdowns?

Try natural remedies: ambient audios, essential oils, warm milk before bed. If you’re single, hug a teddy bear. Live near the coast? Get your Vitamin Sea. In lockdown? Turn on a salt lamp, add sea salt to your bath, and play the sound of waves through your headphones. Close your eyes.

The list goes on—just check out #selfcare and #selflove on Instagram or TikTok.

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Bonus: Build a Support System

Reach out. Connect. Call your mom. Talk to your best friend, partner, or even your editor or publisher.

Yes, really.

Do you hate social media? The pandemic says you’ll have to deal with it.

The internet may be a wormhole of fakes and frauds, but real people are still out there. Join creative groups, browse through forums, and engage when you’re ready. You don’t have to spend money on self-care webinars, but if it helps, go for it.

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To reiterate, the commonly accepted definition of creative block—a period when you can’t produce anything—is a myth. It’s actually a coping process, a necessary part of creative growth that’s been stigmatized and pushed to the background. Without this process, writing or any form of art cannot flourish. We need the block; we just have to face it in our own way. Everyone needs to cope.

I don’t know about you, but if I have to go through it again—and I’ve failed roughly three times before—I want to do it right this time.

Let’s embrace the block, not as an enemy, but as a companion on the creative journey.