Between Pen and Paper: Flaneuring Through a Writer’s Mind – An Urban Legend of Writer’s Block

By Andi Kopek

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In the Writers City, you could often hear the dreaded words whispered fearfully down every alley: “Writer’s Block.”

The Writer’s Block—a haunted quarter of shuttered buildings, which rise suddenly right in the middle of Triumph Boulevard, with no detour in sight.

Or so I’ve been told.

I must confess: I’ve never encountered The Writer’s Block myself.

I know—I might sound like a snobby, egotistic, pompous windbag, but it’s the truth. Some people experience writer’s block. Some don’t.

And that prompted me to reflect on what the Writer’s Block actually is, its many forms, and the ways one can unblock the Block.

Thus, today we will flaneur through the Writers City, visiting several places belonging to the Writer’s Block: 1/ The Clock Tower of Deadlines, 2/ The Empty Fountain of Inspiration, 3/ The Old Courthouse of Rigid Thinking, 4/ The Abandon Lot of Self-Doubt, and 5/ A Charred Alley of Burnout.

Let’s start our tour.

1/ The Clock Tower of Deadlines

The Clock Tower looms high over Writers City, its giant hands ticking out a deafening rhythm: I need it now, now, now! Deadlines can create wonderful energy—a needed push—but they can also have a windchill effect: freezing the creative flow before it even begins. Writer’s brains can get filled up with deafening ticking, squishing creativity to a forgotten corner of the mind. How to deal with this major source of anxiety experienced by so many writers? I think we can divide deadlines into two categories: external and internal. Each of these requires a different approach.

External deadlines are the loudest—editorial calendars, publishing schedules, submission windows, grant applications, your significant other’s birthday. They’re real and often immovable. The bad and the good thing about them is that we have no control over them. We have no choice but to deal with them. The trick to managing external deadlines is not to fight the clock—it’s to set up a rhythm with it. Probably, the most efficient approach is to set mini deadlines along the way, which would give your creativity breathing room. These intermediary, mini deadlines need to be set in a smart way (even SMARTY way—check one of the previous columns) to work. And don’t forget to reward yourself for reaching each mini deadline. The reward can be very symbolic, but it is important for the Reward System of your brain to get it to create positive reinforcement.

I also like to set for myself a fake final deadline, a week before the actual one, and I make myself believe that the fake one is real. This gives me some wiggle room between the “fake/real” deadline and the “real/real” one, and if everything goes well, I actually can wiggle to my favorite tune during that time.

Internal deadlines, though, are trickier. They whisper rather than shout: You should’ve finished this by now. Why aren't you done yet? And these are the most uncomfortable whispers one could hear. They don’t come from editors or agents, but from the depth of ourselves—fueled by ambition, guilt, or comparison.

Luckily, unlike external deadline clocks, we can rewind internal ones. You are in charge of setting these clocks. You are the Clockmaster. The challenge, then, is to be painfully honest with yourself and answer these questions: what wound your internal clock to begin with? Was it ambition? Guilt? Comparison? Once you know the answer to these questions, you can decide whether the clock deserves to keep ticking—or if it’s time to dismantle it altogether—and give yourself the time your creativity actually needs, not the time your anxiety demands.

And remember, the answer to the question “For Whom the Bell Tolls?” is: “For you.” Sometimes to remind you to work hard—and sometimes to rest wisely.

2/ The Empty Fountain of Inspiration

Once a sparkling heart of the city, the Fountain of Inspiration now stands dry and silent, collecting trash in the forgotten corners, and pigeon droppings on the sun-bleached edges. Every writer who visits here wonders if the water will ever flow again.

It will.

Inspiration isn’t a permanent spring. It ebbs and flows with its own mysterious cycle. But it is a cycle — which means that after a dry spell, a wet season inevitably follows. Inspiration often arrives when we step away. When we stop staring at the dry basin, the fountain stream will suddenly spurt from The Fountainhead, creating ephemeral liquid sculptures, shaped by the flow and imagination.

3/ The Old Courthouse of Rigid Thinking

Built of stone and stubbornness, the Old Courthouse is where rules are written in marble: “Good writers always do X,” “Real stories must be Y.” Inside, creativity that does not align strictly with the Codex, is put on trial.

The judges wear wigs powdered with the literary canon, and the jury selection is based on MFA diplomas and certificates of self-proclaimed connoisseurs of “real literature.” In the Old Courthouse, sentences can be brutally sentenced to death—without right of appeal. Every time the word “experimental” is uttered, it triggers a frenzy of gavel-thumping.

No matter how compelling the story, if it breaks the unspoken rules, it risks exile from the shelves of respectability to the frozen tundra of obscurity.

But the truth is: the rules exist so they can be broken. If you realize that the best pieces of literature bend dogmas, shatter glass silos of genre, and create their own standards, you are free to proceed with reckless imagination.

Don’t try to please the judge.

Rise from the bench and start dancing to your own tune—and make it rain with words, puns, and unruly metaphors—unless, of course, you’d like to become next Jarndyce v. Jarndyce.

Case closed.

4/ The Abandon Lot of Self-Doubt

The Abandoned Lot of Self-Doubt is hard to spot in the corner of the Writer’s Block, hidden behind overgrown bushes and the rusting scaffolding of half-built, unfinished ideas. In the middle of the lot, Impostor Syndrome sits on a creaky swing, pretending to play—with feet never quite leaving the ground. It looks around and constantly compares itself to the ghosts of ever-better peers.

But we can clear and reclaim this lot. Somewhere beneath the bent scaffolds of unfinished drafts lies the original deed—the reason you claimed this space in the first place. Maybe it says, “I write to make this world a better place,” or “I create because it gives me an enormous joy.”

So, clear the lot. Dig out the deed. Read it out loud. Feel, again, as its rightful owner. And then, when you look around, you will no longer see The Waste Land.

You will say instead: “I will show you power in a handful of dust.”

5/ A Charred Alley of Burnout

Finally, we come to the Charred Alley, where once-vibrant cafes and colorful murals are now blackened and hollow, with chipped, broken bricks scattered around. This is where writers pushed too hard, fueled by ambition, perfectionism, or necessity, until the fire of creativity consumed itself.

If you find yourself here, don’t rebuild right away. Let the ground cool. Walk around. Reflect. Ask yourself: “What caused the fire in the first place?”

The truth might be that the last straw you “pushed through” landed on a haystack of repeated rejections, stalled projects, and sentences approximating perfection—all slowly drying in the heat of unmet expectations, and reaching slowly the ignition point of 233° Celsius.

So, to recover, give yourself a break from writing. Read, for a change, but just for pure enjoyment, not for research. Or change media—paint, draw, dance—to nourish yourself. And then, when the wind of healing blows away the ashes of burnout, you know you are ready to start again.

I hope that our little city tour through the Writer’s Block district will help you navigate through its strange architecture and meandering paths—so that, no matter where you wander, you will always enjoy the view.

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Andi Kopek is a multidisciplinary artist based in Nashville, TN. With a background in medicine, molecular neuroscience, and behavioral change, he has recently devoted himself entirely to the creative arts. His debut poetry collection, Shmehara, has garnered accolades in both literary and independent film circles for its innovative storytelling.

When you’re in Nashville, you can join Andi at his monthly poetry workshop, participate in the Libri Prohibiti book club (both held monthly at the Spine bookstore, Smyrna, TN), or catch one of his live performances. When not engaging with the community, he's hard at work on his next creative project or preparing for his upcoming art-focused podcast, The Samovar(t) Lounge: Steeping Conversations with Creative Minds, where in a relaxed space, invited artists share tea and the never-told intricacies of their creative journeys.

Between Pen and Paper: Flaneuring Through a Writer’s Mind – Writing on My Own Spectrum

By Andi Kopek

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Oh, Spring is in the air. Spring is in the air, on the ground, and underneath. We can see it, touch it, and smell it. The snow has melted away, taking our unreasonable New Year resolutions with it, and allowing buds of SMARTI goals to slowly open and release the fragrance of new hope. I think Spring is my favorite season—it brings so much positivity.

Spring is a season of rebirth and renewal, which, if you think about it, is exactly what writing is

—a process of bringing ideas to life. Characters blossom, plots grow, and creativity flourishes when given the right care.

If, in the past two months, you set yourself goals that you didn’t achieve, don’t see them as failures. Instead, consider them compost—necessary for new growth. You didn’t fail; you simply gathered data on what doesn’t work for you. Now, armed with that knowledge, let’s plant a new plan—one that works with your creative style and makes 2025 your best writing year yet.

Knowing Your Creative Style

"So, what is your creative style? Do you know?"

I believe that in every profession—just as in life itself—knowing yourself is essential.

Here, I’d like to cite my favorite ancient Greek philosopher, Socrates, who believed that self- knowledge is the foundation of wisdom. His famous dictum, "Know thyself" (γνῶθι σεαυτόν, gnōthi seautón), wasn’t just philosophical rhetoric; it was practical advice. Only when you understand your own nature—your habits, strengths, limitations, and rhythms—can you work with them, rather than against them.

As writers, we often push ourselves toward one-size-fits-all productivity models, thinking that the only way to succeed is to write in a very specific way, perhaps mimicking the modus operandi of a famous writer. It worked for them, so why not for me?

In this search for the "right" way to write, we are often asked: Are you a planner or a pantser?

Do you meticulously outline every detail of your story ("Structure is everything!")?

Or do you let the ink flow freely, trusting instinct to lead you ("Only inspiration fuels my creativity!")?

The Planner vs. Pantser Spectrum

“So, which one are you?”

If you truly know yourself, as Socrates intended, you may find that you are neither—or both. Like with so many things in life, the planner vs. pantser debate is an artificial dichotomy. There are many more options than just two extremes. I prefer to see it as a spectrum of creative style, with pure planners on one end and pure pantsers on the other.

Most writers fall somewhere in between, blending both styles to some extent. Here are some examples of different positions on the spectrum:

1. The 25% Planner / 75% Pantser

Approach:

This writer starts with a general idea—perhaps a theme, a character, or a rough sense of where the plot should go. They prefer to let the story develop organically, following inspiration as it comes. Instead of a detailed outline, they jot down key plot points or the ending, allowing for flexibility in how the story unfolds.

Writing Process:

They write freely, with character motivations and subplots emerging naturally. They embrace unexpected twists, adjusting as needed. Revision is a crucial part of their process, often reshaping major elements after the first draft to bring structure to their organic storytelling.

Challenges:

Without a solid plan, they may struggle with plot consistency or pacing. The lack of pre-planning can lead to extensive revisions, requiring multiple drafts to refine the structure.

2. The 50% Planner / 50% Pantser Approach:

This writer outlines the major beats of the story but leaves plenty of space for spontaneous changes. They know the beginning, middle, and end, but allow details to evolve naturally. Character arcs are planned in advance, yet there is room for discovery and unexpected developments.

Writing Process:

They alternate between structured and exploratory writing, using a loose outline as a guide. They are comfortable diverging from their plan when inspiration strikes. Editing is done progressively, but major structural changes are reserved for later drafts.

Challenges:

At times, they may struggle with indecision—whether to stick to the outline or follow instinct. Finding the right balance between planning and creativity is key to maintaining momentum.

3. The 75% Planner / 25% Pantser Approach:

This writer prefers a structured process, outlining story structure, character arcs, and key turning points in advance. However, they still allow some flexibility within scenes, dialogue, and minor subplots. While most of the novel is mapped out, they recognize that stories evolve during the drafting process.

Writing Process:

They write within their outline framework, treating it as a guide rather than a strict rule. Their logical progression allows for smooth drafting, but they enjoy minor creative detours along the way. Since much of the structure is in place from the start, revisions are typically more efficient. Challenges:

This type of writer may feel creatively restricted when inspiration leads them away from the outline. If their plan is too rigid, spontaneous ideas might feel disruptive rather than enriching to the story. Finding a balance between structure and flexibility is key.

Finding Your Own Creative Balance

“Do you identify with one example more than the others?"

The most important thing is this: Know thyself. Write from a position of who you are, not who you wish to be.

And here’s a final thought: You don’t have to stay in one place on this spectrum forever.

For one novel, you might thrive as a 25% Planner / 75% Pantser, letting your story unfold naturally. For another, you may lean into structure, becoming a 75% Planner / 25% Pantser to tackle a complex, multi-layered plot. And that’s okay. It’s okay to be a fluid writer on a spectrum of writing styles.

So take a deep breath. Fill your lungs with warm Spring air, the fragrance of blossoms, and the music of birds chirp. And remember how exciting it is to be a creative, amazing writer—on your own terms.

Andi

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Andi Kopek is a multidisciplinary artist based in Nashville, TN. With a background in medicine, molecular neuroscience, and behavioral change, he has recently devoted himself entirely to the creative arts. His debut poetry collection, Shmehara, has garnered accolades in both literary and independent film circles for its innovative storytelling.

When you’re in Nashville, you can join Andi at his monthly poetry workshop, participate in the Libri Prohibiti book club, or catch one of his live performances. When not engaging with the community, he's hard at work on his next creative project or preparing for his next, upcoming art- focused podcast, The Samovar(t) Lounge: Steeping Conversations with Creative Minds, where in a relaxed space, invited artists share tea and the never-told intricacies of their creative journeys.