Writer’s block.* For some, an ominous force lurking around every corner. For others, nothing more than a way for writers to whine about writing instead of writing. Whatever your view, many people consider themselves victims of this phenomenon. But ask most to describe their experiences and you’re met with vague and blurry recollections — a mental Sasquatch sighting. So, what are we to do? After many encounters with the beast, I’ve realized something. We use the term “writer’s block” to define a problem, but the real problem lies in the term itself. Specifically, the apostrophe.

Look at it:

Writer’s block.

WRITER’S block.

WRITER’S block.

The apostrophe ‘S’ is possessive. The term tells us that “writer’s block” is something writers have. When you have bad things, they tend to be tough to fix: I have the flu, I have student debt, I have regrets. But if we shift our thinking so that “writer’s block” is not something we have but rather something that is being done to us, an interesting question emerges: who is blocking us?

I’ll call my someone Eugene. Your person may not be Eugene, but I’d wager they have a lot in common.

I’ve known Eugene for a few years and have discovered over time that he’s a well of negativity masquerading as a person. A veritable black hole moving throughout the world, melting ice cream, tripping old ladies, and siphoning smiles from children’s faces. You know that movie that makes everyone cry? Eugene saw it and didn’t cry — and then he watched it again. He was even awarded $35,000,000 after a judge ruled that J.K. Rowling used his likeness to create the Dementors.

If you don’t know Eugene personally, you know someone like him. Someone who is so intrinsically unhappy, their only recourse is to snuff out every light in the universe so their own darkness feels less cold.

Now, why am I telling you this?

Because sometimes Eugene shows up when I’m writing. He sits in my apartment and watches me. And every time I write a paragraph, he mumbles “that sucks” and “you’re stupid.” So, I write a bit slower, because I’m human and I don’t like those feelings. But slowing down doesn’t help. Every sentence, he gets louder “nobody’s going to like this” or “they’re going to laugh at you.” So, I write even slower. Eventually, he shouts after every single word: “idiot,” “moron,” “fraud.” And then I just stop. I stop putting words on the page. But even that doesn’t help, because Eugene can read my thoughts and thinks those are worthless too. Now, I’m creatively paralyzed. I give up and I go do something else, and Eugene wins.

“Writer’s block” isn’t something I have, it’s something Eugene did to me. I was wearing a shock collar and every time I tried to be creative, he taught me to be silent.

So, how do we defeat Eugene?

In my experience, most people try to impress him. We want to come up with an idea, a sentence, or a line of dialogue so undeniably brilliant that Eugene won’t have any criticism. Something so good it breaks through all that negativity and gets him to say “I was wrong.”

Sorry, that’s never going to happen. Eugene just isn’t that type of person. For him, it’s never actually been about the quality of your work. It’s always been about his low self-esteem, his deep unhappiness, and his need to bring others down to make himself feel better. The truth is, what you were about to write could have been brilliant and he never would have told you. He doesn’t care about your work, he just wants to make you sad.

So, how do we defeat Eugene?

We piss him off. We piss him off so much that he leaves. We piss him off by doing exactly what he is accusing us of doing: “Eugene, you think that line is bad? Check this one out.” Be intentionally bad. Stop trying to impress him. Just write. Challenge yourself to phrase an idea in the worst way possible. This accomplishes two things: it gets words on the page that you can edit later, and it bores the hell out of Eugene. Remember, he is sustained by your sadness, so if there isn’t any, he’ll scurry out of your apartment and starve to death in whatever armpit he came from. And during that entire time, you’ll have been writing.