5 steps to not getting any writing done

1) Give up

It’s true. You should stop before you even really start. That’s the only true and steadfast way to make sure nothing ever gets written. And that’s the goal, right? Not to write at all? Nothing. Blank screen.

Don’t pre-write either! That’s just a form of writing. Don’t be fooled by the hyphenate. That’s just writing before the writing, which is itself writing. Just say no.

4) Get depressed

Your writing is terrible. We all think it. You haven’t started it yet, but already people are saying that. In fact, I just wrote it. “That thing you haven’t done yet? Yeah, it’s terrible. I’ve read it already. Just because you haven’t written it doesn’t mean I can’t.”

Other than not starting, getting depressed about your lack of talent is the other best way not to write. But don’t think you are alone either. One in every group of at least five writers is depressed. And the other seven make up statistics. And the other third writes about writing by writing about not writing.

3) Ignore conventions

Styling and formatting rules are for other people. Not you. No, you are different. Inspired. Better, maybe. Yes, that’s it. You will be the next Shakespeare. Or Faulkner. Or Rowling. Or Meyers. A huge success. Like that guy who wrote that one book that time. Or even that one woman. What was her name again?

also punctuation who needs it no one thats who

2) Don’t edit

Your first thought is the best one you are going to have. Clearly, there is no reason to revise anything you write. After all, it came from you. And who can judge you but you? No one else. Shut up.

Maybe even leave space in your work for later revisions, which you won’t be doing anyway. Just start a sentence and, right before you get to the point, end it. For example —

5) Just stop

Maybe you have already started — bad idea, but okay — and you need to finish. Know the best way to do it? Just. Stop.

People like abrupt endings. As if the writer was murdered in the middle of writing it — argh! uh! Like that. Except more grand too — my precious life and career as a writer is being ended by this knife that has pierced my lung! What awful luck! How will I be able to finish my great American novel now?