Unstuck: A Supportive and Practical Guide to Working Through Writer’s Block

By Jane Anne Staw, PhD

Reviewed by Susan Lyn McCombs

            I retreat to the garden whenever I have trouble writing. So basically I’m there a lot. And when I’m done weeding and pruning, there’s always housework to do. Or the silverware drawer needs straightening. And there’s that tofu lasagna recipe I’ve been meaning to try. When I have to write, suddenly everything else seems more important.

            Though I’ve always suspected it, it’s nice to know I’m not alone in my procrastination to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard. According to Jane Anne Staw, author of Unstuck: A Supportive and Practical Guide to Working Through Writer’s Block, even accomplished authors can suddenly find themselves paralyzed when faced with having to write outside their comfort level– the nonfiction writer who tries her hand at fiction, the science professor who is asked to write a personal essay. It’s not that I can’t write; it’s just that writing is sometimes a struggle for me. I’ve written a few dozen magazine articles, co-edited a guidebook, and had travel essays published in anthologies. That’s not a resume worthy of a lifetime achievement award, but it is proof that I am able to string a few coherent sentences together. Or at least it should be. But for some reason I am convinced that the next piece I write will be a complete failure, so within minutes of sitting down to write something new I pop back up again and head out to the garden. Before trying to write this book review I made three trips to the nursery, cleared a path through the Japanese anemones in my front yard and laid a walkway of slate tiles.

            But then I read Unstuck. And after working through some of the exercises I was pleased to find I was actually able to stay in front of the computer and write. Well, first I followed Staw’s own example of going to a coffee shop to begin my writing and then, when I had enough thoughts on paper to write the review, I returned to my computer at home and felt relaxed enough to stay there.

            Not all the suggestions or exercises in the book will click with every reader, nor does Staw expect them to. Creating a safe writing space is an individual as writing itself. Staw offers encouragement by telling her own story of writing paralysis and by sprinkling throughout the book stories of how Staw’s clients overcame their own fears and blocks. I found it extremely helpful to read about the woman who, one year after her wedding, was still unable to make herself write thank you letters. Thank you notes may seem like a minor task compared with completing an essay that was due in your professor’s office last week or the looming deadline of that magazine article you agreed to write three months ago, but most writers can relate to the guilt the newlywed felt and understand how self-criticism and fear can build up to the point that it stops you in your tracks.

            Along with some hand-holding from the author, the 241 page book focuses on strategies and relaxation techniques to help writers strengthen their relationship with writing and to learn what or who is behind their block: What nasty little names are we calling ourselves when we try to write? Whose critical voice or voices do we carry in our heads? Staw reminds her readers that just as writing itself can be a journey of discovery–who of us know exactly what we’re going to write before we write it? – so is learning how to make our relationship with writing safe. Each chapter ends with a series of questions and exercises to assist in peeling away layers of self-criticism and fear while forging a healthier relationship with our personal writing process.

            “Think small,” she suggests in chapter five, “…trouble starts when we think too big. When we give ourselves too much room to wander, to become distracted, to feel overwhelmed.” If the guilt of not having written a few thank you letters becomes the worry that your relatives will never speak to you again and the certainty that you have already been banned from any future family gathering, why even bother to buy the notepaper to begin with? “Snowballing is one way of distracting ourselves from writing,” Staw says. “Think too big, and you’ll find yourself at the base of Anapurna, aiming for the summit, when you’ve not yet attempted Half Dome.”

            Before I read chapter five, I always figured I thought too small–a small car, a small cottage, a small love…– anyway, Staw was right. I was thinking way too big when it came to each essay, article and story I tried to write. I surrounded each piece with great big What If’s–What if my editor hates what I’m writing and never hires me again? What if it really isn’t a good article, but she prints it anyway and everyone who reads it will know I’m a fraud? I could go on and on, and the problem is I have gone on and one, which has made writing less and less fun. So even though I’m not the kind of person who reads self-help books cover to cover, completing every exercise along the way, I have found it helpful to read a chapter or two of Unstuck whenever I’m feeling, well, stuck. And if that doesn’t help me, there’s always the Sunset New Western Garden Book to turn to.