Talking My Way Through the Writing Process

If you engaged with me in conversation, it would not take you long to realize that I am a TALKER! I have always had a lot to say, even before my verbal skills had developed, and that has not changed in adulthood. I love conversing with others and discussing ideas. When I get to talking about an interesting clinical case, paper or research idea, I could talk at a rate of “a million miles per minute”, indefinitely.  Not only do I find speaking aloud helps me develop ideas, but my ideas flourish with the live feedback from the other(s) engaged in the discussion. If you observed the inner workings of my mind, you would see that “Kandi Land”, if you will, is generally a lively and vibrant land busy with a steady flight of ideas, tangential thoughts, enthusiasm and curiosity. My inner world is so busy I often wonder, how is it that people feel bored? I am rarely at a loss for words and I could come up with an engaging story about a paperclip on the spot if prompted. However, when I sit down at my computer and open up a word document to start writing academically (if I actually get to that point) it’s like my brain freezes. I feel physically and mentally incapacitated. The best analogy I can use to describe my experience is like the Apple/Mac “spinning pinwheel of death”. With all my ideas and excitement, why do I find it so hard to write? Why is written communication so much more difficult for me than spoken communication?

As a clinical psychologist, I can explain my experience away with clinical jargon about the various regions of my brain involved in language, communication, and my cognitive strengths and weaknesses. Yet a PhD is not needed to understand the essence of my problem, which is that I get overwhelmed by my ideas and fail to organize my thoughts in order to write. Despite my knowledge of the brain and cognitive processes and fully knowing that I need to organize my thought process, I still struggle with academic writer’s block. Here I am two and half years into my career as a clinical faculty member, and I find myself more stuck than ever.  Without the external pressure of deadlines and academic milestones from graduate school, I find myself engaged in nearly every academic activity except writing!

A few weeks ago, I submitted an abstract for a poster presentation at an upcoming conference. Only after I finally submitted the abstract and I was relishing in the relief and sense of freedom, did I realize how remarkably agonizing and painful I made the writing process. Even though I had orally communicated the relevance my research interest, my specific research question, the methods, and scope of the data to be presented in poster form on multiple occasions, the spinning pinwheel of death took over every time I attempted to write the abstract. For over a month I repeatedly avoided, procrastinated, and scared myself out of writing one brief paragraph. As usual, I did not find the motivation and focus to complete the task until the deadline was about to pass. By the time I had finished it I was exhausted, which immediately led to guilt, self-criticism, and shame about how little I accomplished and how much more I should be writing. Of course, this pattern of thinking is the opposite of motivating. I often tell my patients to “focus on the lesson rather than the mistake” and thankfully I decided to take some of my own advice. So, I began reflecting on what has been getting in my way. In fact, I agreed to do this blog post as an attempt to get myself unstuck! Committing to writing this blog post provided me with much needed structure (i.e. clear writing task and a deadline) to kick me into gear and here is what I learned:

Lesson 1: It is helpful (and often necessary) to break things down into smaller tasks, then break them down again. I often get lost in the literature when looking for relevant articles because I find so many areas of my field interesting. Thus, it is not only overwhelming, but unrealistic for me to think that I will successfully (1) identify a journal to submit my (unwritten) article, (2) complete a literature search, (3) read the articles, and (4) start writing my background in one writing session. However, if I’m honest, this is the exact expectation that I typically have in mind when I set out to “work on a paper”, which directly impedes me from actually sitting down to work. Therefore, I revised my plan to (1) identify potential journals and (2) organize the literature I have collected over the past year. Unfortunately, this was still too ambitious and unstructured for me. Three hours later I had narrowed down three potential journals (success), but I had also downloaded more than ten new papers, had countless tabs on my computer screen open, and my kitten had scattered my 20+ articles all over the living room (e.g. less organized than when I started). So, for my next writing session I plan to organize the literature I have already collected in reference list form. Period. After I complete that task, I can move onto developing an outline to guide future writing blocks.

Lesson 2: Use the Pomodoro Technique! Time and time again I come back to this technique. It is a simple and effective time management strategy- set the timer for 25 minutes and work until the timer rings. Set the timer for 5-10 minutes and take a break. Set the timer for another 25 minutes and repeat. 

Lesson 3: To get unstuck, you have to address the unhelpful thoughts, beliefs, and the emotions undermining your efforts.  Mindfulness, as in present awareness without judgment, is a useful strategy to interrupt unhelpful ways of thinking. Kandi-Land is not all sunshine, rainbows and gum drops. Once I started paying attention to the way I talk to myself and my beliefs about writing, it was clear that I am my own worst enemy. I cling to unhelpful and irrational beliefs about the writing process and my own abilities that fuel pervasive self-doubt. I am a perfectionist and overly self-critical. Oh, and surprise, it’s not actually helpful to spend your dedicated writing time berating yourself for all the things you haven’t yet written! To get out of this vicious cycle/toxic way of thinking I found it helpful to take pause and have a mindful moment, which is actually quite simple. All you have to do is bring your attention to the present moment and focus on the live sensations you notice without evaluating your experience. For example, when I caught myself dwelling on the things I haven’t written while I was supposed to be writing this post, I re-directed my attention to where I was sitting, what I could see in front of me, what I heard, etc., and I effectively interrupted the viscous cycle of angst and self-doubt. Though it is important to note that I had repeat this practice over and over again throughout my writing session!

Lesson 4: Lay out a schedule with deadlines for each task. All this reflection made me realize I am also overwhelmed by all the other responsibilities I have in life. Planning and explicitly scheduling time for writing is a tried and true strategy. It worked for me in graduate school so why haven’t I been put this into practice lately? Yes, the internal barriers discussed above have played a major role in deterring me from laying out a schedule, but I have also been very busy balancing my clinical and administrative responsibilities at work with my personal life and health. It’s so easy to lose sight of long-term goals and priorities. So, I have been routinely asking myself questions such as, “Why do I want to write and publish anyways?” to help me regain perspective and sustain motivation to write.

Lesson 5: Talk out loud to get started! I started this post questioning why it is so hard for me to express my thoughts in written form when it’s so easy for me to orally express my thoughts. So, I spent some time exploring the underlying processes of spoken and written communication and felt validated in the difficulties I experience. Specifically, I found it meaningful to consider the contrast between spoken language, which is generally unplanned and consists of incomplete sentences, corrections, and interruptions; and written communication, which is precise, formal, and permanent. Acknowledging the nuanced, yet fundamental differences between modes of communication fostered self-compassion, in terms of appreciating my strengths and to be less punitive toward my perceived shortcomings. And so, in moving forward with writing, the next time I am stuck with the spinning pinwheel of death, I will use voice to text technology to get unstuck (i.e. translate spoken word into written form). Now, it’s time I move forward with implementing this plan!

Kandi Schmidt, PhD

Perseverance- The struggle is REAL

After receiving a very positive reception of my article, I struggle to keep the momentum going.  This is not my first post about this particular concern, however some things bear repeating, at least for me.  Maintaining momentum following publishing and managing the enduring pressure to produce can be overwhelming.  The potential for rejection following submission only augments this anxiety.  A considerable amount of time has passed, however I have been quite active in my efforts to write.  I have attended Writing Boot Camps, the OpEd project, and continue to participate in our monthly writing group. I have contributed to group articles and agreed to co author a book chapter. I attempt to contribute to any relevant publication undertaking. I am determined to publish for promotion but it seems as though my efforts are insufficient.  I question whether I have the bandwidth or attentional capacity to do all that is required in order to achieve this goal. Academic practitioners (pracademics) in medical settings are called upon to teach, supervise, consult, see patients (not my usual term), and engage in research and publication.  There never seems to be enough time to accomplish everything AND indulge in work-life balance.  Journal submission and promotion deadlines are helpful in keeping me focused and on track, but the stress of it all can be afflictive.

Obviously, I am writing... and writing... and writing even now.  What is helpful to ensure that I stay relatively centered?  At one time, I found writing anything post grad school that was not a note entered into someone's medical record to be utterly daunting.  I obsess over eveything I write to a dysfunctional degree which has hindered my productivity in the past.  Participating in my writing group has aided me by acknowledging the difficulties and complexities of writing in a medical setting.  I am cognizant of the fact that I am not companionless in this predicament.  I have been encouraged and supported in my endeavors.  The group also affords the opportunity and privilege of peer mentoring and review prior to submission. For this I am truly appreciative.

Writing, work and life balance?  Well that is another blog altogether!  I get up EARLY 5 days a week to indulge in some "me" time.  Some refer to this as mindfullness, I call it keeping the chaos at bay! This tends to facilitate personal peace prior to my frequently busy days.  As recommended in writing boot camp, I attempt to manage the drowning feeling associated with the writing process by working on projects for at least 30 minutes per day.  At work this rarely takes place and I regularly strain to find pockets of time for writing when at home.  The positive note is that 30 minutes goes by quite quickly when I can navigate the tumultuous landscape of my life.  It helps to pre plan and do as much as possible beforehand and give others an activity to do that will last for at least 30 minutes! In other words, I contract for 30 minutes of "off duty" time with family, friends, and fur babies.  When the writing is on a deadline and more than 30 minutes is required, I take brain breaks.  I am a gamer so I find it a valuable opportunity to decompress by playing online games.  I am party of a community of fellow gamers that cause me to smile and laugh, when writing does not.  I don't allow myself to get too far from my laptop out of fear that I might not return to my writing if I do!

The moral of the story?  Despite the ambiguity coupled with writing, I have to and will trudge on and hope to love it.....one day.

Erica D. Marshall - Lee, Ph.D.

How to write when you don’t have research of your own

When I joined the faculty at my current institution, I was amazed at all of the opportunities to get involved. Being in an academic institution brings about opportunities (as well as pressures!) to produce in many different ways. As a full time clinician however, I was unsure of how to start to work on my “scholarship” expectations. Scholarship was part of the promotion expectations, but I also wanted to be able to feed my desire to be involved in research and love of this type of work. I’ve always enjoyed writing, from the time I was my high school’s yearbook editor, to navigating the challenges of Literature classes in college, to getting oriented to research writing once I joined several labs in the psychology department of my undergraduate institution. My love of writing was only fueled in my graduate work as I was immersed in the research environment. I have always enjoyed variety in my work, and because my current role is 100% clinical, I like that writing and research provide a contrast, a different way to use my brain. These pursuits are the opposite of the emotional demands of clinic work in some ways – writing is done mostly alone, and engages a different part of my brain than does my work with my patients.

So I had to ask myself - how can I get involved in research when my responsibilities are primarily clinical, yet my promotion requirements along with academic mindedness say I need this other type of work for balance. There are probably many ways to do this, but the first thing I did was join a writing group that meets monthly (the benefits of this have been outlined already in this blog, but for me, this helped provide a space to get input from others, to network/collaborate with others who did have active research projects going, and to hold me accountable). Not having my own grants required some creativity. In addition to this writing group, I began to set up meetings with colleagues who were interested in the same things. I also sought mentorship from others who were experienced in this area. I found that some of the things I was interested in were unique, leading to interesting collaborations with those who did have existing data but hadn’t had the interest/time to publish in that area. I found that most people were open to collaboration when I was offering to put in the work! I also met with colleagues who had similar interests or who wanted similar things out of their career, and was drawn towards those with similar styles and ways of working. Starting a whole new research program felt very daunting, but collaborating with others helped it feel less overwhelming. Out of this came a collaboration in grant writing, which we continue to build upon and eventually plan to apply for some larger grants so that we can carve out some protected time to focus more fully on research and writing. Reminding myself that if I’m going to go this route, it’s going to take time. Along these lines, collaborating with colleagues to capitalize on the clinical work which we are already doing and looking at outcomes – writing an IRB and looking at quantitative and qualitative outcomes of our clinic.

These are just some of the ways that I’ve had success with writing when my primary area is clinical work. I think if I can sum up my experience in one word, it would be to “collaborate”! Happy writing!

Post by Dr. Kallio Hunnicutt - Ferguson

Overcoming Perfectionism: Creating Space for Influence 

Allison LoPilato, PhD

I confess, I am a perfectionist who regularly practices unproductive perfectionism.  Here’s how it manifests itself in my writing. I have a well ingrained habit of holding on to my drafts until they are 95% done and close to the deadline.  As a result, I engage in near pathological levels of perservation—easily spending 3 hours rewriting a single paragraph. I spend days going down thePubMed rabbit hole, convinced I need to read every article on the subject before I can write. 

This habit has been highly reinforced over the years. In graduate school, drafts of papers, theses, and my dissertation came back with virtually no changes and a “Wow, looks ready to go!”. The truth is, what I presented as my “1st draft” was more like my 10th. I had a reputation for being a good writer and worried that an unpolished draft might tarnish my image. So,while I knew this writing habit was dysfunctional, it was hard to quit. 

If spending too much of my precious time was the only consequence, I probably wouldn’t have had enough motivation to change. I teach my patients that behavioral change requires 3 things: awareness, capability, and willingness. I was acutely aware this was a problem and was certainly capable of doing things differently. But I wasn’t willing to change. The fear of showing others the earlier versions of my work stopped me from following all the advice outlined in the academic writing books and blogs I frantically consumed. My process was miserable, but it was mine. 

Then, while writing my K grant application, I had an epiphany. Out of sheer necessity, and part desperation, I had to share my ‘in progress’ workearly on and regularly. Although I was aware that my habit wasted a lot of time and created personal suffering, I hadn’t fully appreciated how much it was actually limiting the quality of my work.

By holding back drafts I missed opportunities for early feedback that could reshape my ideas while they were still developing. I missed the chance to incorporate other perspectives that I hadn’t thought of myself. I missed the clarity and reframing that comes from someone who’s not in the weeds or in the discipline. And by waiting to share drafts so close to a deadline, everything seemed set and there wasn’t a real invitation to influence and improve. 

Once I became brave enough to take early feedback, I also realized the value of sharing with a diverse audience. While I primarily circulated my work with my mentor or fellow lab mates, I rarely had people outside of my bubble . This narrow focus similarly created more missed opportunities. 

Sharing my true “in progress” drafts of my K application with a wider crew lead to work that was far stronger, clearer,  and more compelling than I could have produced in the bubble.

The Non-Academic  – I enlisted my youngerbrother, an MBA/MPA graduate student, who is a talented writer, thinker and communicator. After an initial read of my application materials, he simply replied “Geez, I hate how you academics write. This is so boring to read.”  He was right. He quickly marked up my documents without any attention to the actual science. Instead, he focused bringing the story to life through the structure and organization. He wanted any reader to be easily ushered through the application. He stamped out all jargon, long sentences, and “pretentious”/unnecessary synonyms (ahem ‘elucidate’). His edits helped me develop a clearer narrative that provided a new framework for the rest of my application. The writing was cleaner and punchier, even though I secretly worried it felt less “academic”. 

The Co-Mentor – I turned to one of my application co-mentor’s for additional feedback. He was honest and direct with me in ways no one had ever been.While this took an initial adjustment, it quickly made me regret all the ways I’d shielded myself from feedback to date. I was learning so much from his feedback and it was making the work substantially better. As an expert in the area, he was able to help me sharpen my scientific questions and hypothesis. He helped me correct my course when I’d gotten toobogged down in the weeds. And because I shared early (although admittedly, it could have been earlier), I had time to make these corrections. I also realized that mentors want to be given the chance to mentor. While I held back in the past fearing judgement, the process strengthened our professional relationship and the ability to collaborate that will be critical to our ongoing work together.

The Grant Writer – I reached out to a grant writer who’d graciously offered to look over my materials. Her initial email in response to a Specific Aims draft (that my mentors said looked done) read, “This needs work. I’m worried this is terribly specific.” As someone not familiar with our research, the work seemed abstract and lacked context. I’d made assumptions about what people may know or think is important based on my bubble (i.e., doesn’t everyone agree computational approaches are the way forward?). Her edits helped me broaden and contextualize my research to speak to a wider audience. Sometimes the suggestions she gave me were at direct odds with my mentor’s input, but having both allowed me to create a synthesis. 

The Grad School Friend – I also turned to mytrusted friend from graduate school, a talented and prolific researcher. While she didn’t know my area of research, she was in the field, which provided a sweet spot. As a knowledgeable (but not expert)reader, she aptly highlighted were ideas needed to be restated more clearly, and where certainconnections in the rationale were missing for someone unfamiliar with the literature.  Her edits weren’t extensive, but they were so well focused in key places that they helped bring everything together. 

I’m proud of the application I ultimately submitted. It wouldn’t have been as strong without the feedback from these key players at a time when I could act on their input. Even if I don’t get the grant, the process created the motivation to push past the fears that fueled my perfectionistic tendencies. It’s given me the willingness I needed to make real change and to create space for influence by sharing my writing early, often, and with a diverse audience. 

Where do I begin? Transitioning from the clinical to the academic world

Where do I begin? For the past 14 years I’ve worked in a clinical capacity. The clinical milieu became natural to me. Sitting across individuals helping them navigate the stickiness of life.  The clinical setting is where I thrive. Even through the most challenging clinical cases, I am usually reminded why I chose this field and why this field chose me. I won’t lie there have been some academic musings throughout my clinical career. Moments of “what would that look like?” So when an opportunity to join the academic world was presented to me I immediately went into self-doubt mode but my doubts relaxed when I had the safety net of being able to continue my clinical work. In the back of my head I knew I would be challenged taking on this new role and eventually flung into academic writing. Honestly, I craved the opportunity.

Where do I even begin? Fortunately, this is where I begin. Writing about how it feels to take the leap and make the shift. For some it’s natural but for me a bit scary. Scary in a good way is the only way I can describe this new chapter in my career. I think earlier in my career writing seemed so intimidating. The lady in the Starbucks engrossed in her next novel. The guy fretting over his new screenplay. They both looked so determined and confident. There have been moments when I would occasionally dabble in writing for fun. Maybe start a blog on palliative care, complaining about raising teens, or surviving menopause. You know, write about things that permeate my world in real time. Unfortunately, the distractions would come, work, teens, hot flashes or just life in general.

So, I’ve decided to adopt a different approach to writing and now whenever I have the opportunity no matter the context, I just write. It doesn’t have to be the next great thing.  Plus, I had to tell myself that girl in Starbucks could have been questioning her writing abilities and losing focus as she smiled sipping her macchiato. That guy could easily be doubting his self and on his eighth draft and eighth expresso after seven rejections.  

So here I am sitting in an overpriced coffee shop sipping on a $7 soy latte and yelling in my head, “where do I even begin?”  I think a recipe for my adventure into academic writing is to first surround myself with those that get that THIS IS NOT EASY.  Second, remind myself that I have a voice. Although historically I’ve excelled at expressing myself vocally, it’s now time to challenge myself.  I do have a voice. Now it’s time to express it by putting pin to pad. I’ve wasted a lot of time thinking about where to begin. So now I just need to begin and then work through the kinks later. Clinical work involves planning and coordinating thoughts and ideas to present to my patients in a way that helps them grow. I meld CBT with interpersonal styles that promote encouragement and forward movement. I get excited when the patient can see the possibilities and begin to move in the direction they want.  So, this is where I begin. Plan and coordinate ideas that will help me grow as a writer. See the possibilities and begin to move in a direction by writing what I know. It will flow but first I have to begin.

Stella D. Nelms, Ph.D.

Branching Out into Academic Writing: A Clinician's Perspective

In my professional life, I write. A lot. As a clinical psychologist who conducts psychological assessments of children, writing takes up most of my work time. For each child I evaluate, I write a report that is between 10 and 20 pages long. Even when not technically sitting in front of a computer composing a report, I am writing in my head, i.e., thinking about how to share information in a way that is meaningful to parents while also effectively documenting the child’s needs for school and/or mental health professionals.

In addition to my own writing, I supervise clinical psychology interns who are honing their assessment skills, which involves time editing their reports and helping them effectively communicate the story of the child they are assessing. Most of my supervisees come into their assessment training seeing it as a “necessary evil” – a box they must check as part of their internship experience, but not something they plan to continue to do with any regularity in their professional lives. Why is that? Most balk at the writing demands inherent in the career of an assessment psychologist. When I start each group of trainees, I joke with them that my goal by the end of the year is to have each of them dislike assessment (and really report-writing) a little less.

I have always found the interns’ consistent fear and loathing of writing somewhat puzzling, because for me, writing assessment reports is a meaningful and welcome activity. First, it provides a welcome respite from the demands of face-to-face clinical work. I appreciate the opportunity report writing affords me to quietly and carefully dig deep and think through things - in contrast to the quick-thinking, “on your feet” style of work inherent in psychotherapy. There is also something about the writing process that helps me consider assessment results more thoroughly. Sometimes after starting to pull the pieces together in a report, I find that my conceptualization of the case shifts a bit – in the process of writing a child’s story, the overall picture becomes clearer.

In sum, writing has always been a bit part of my professional identity. Although there are moments that I bemoan all the reports I must get through, I enjoy writing, and have developed strategies to maximize efficiency, avoid procrastination, and communicate in a meaningful and clear way.

Things shifted for me roughly seven years ago, when my career track changed as the result of a cross-state family move. I moved from a workplace with job responsibilities that were purely clinical to an academic medical center, which had greater demands for involvement in research and scholarly pursuits. Suddenly, I felt out of my element. Although I attended a graduate program that embraced the scientist-practitioner model, my training and focus throughout graduate school, internship, post-doc, and my 13-year career prior to my move had been nearly totally focused on clinical work. The thought of branching out into academic writing was a whole new ball game – one that was quite intimidating.

Rather fortuitously, two opportunities presented themselves – at nearly the same time – that helped build my confidence in myself as someone who could be more than a “clinical” writer. First, one of my colleagues sent me an email about a post he had seen on a psychology listserv: one requesting authors for topics for an online academic encyclopedia. One of the articles was on a topic that I knew very well – a specialty I had developed in the first 13 years of my career. Rather impulsively (before I could talk myself out of it!), I decided to throw my hat into the ring, and my offer to write the article was accepted.

At nearly the same time, I learned of a newly-starting writing group, open to individuals across my department. The purpose of the group was to help its members set academic writing goals and provide support and accountability for meeting those goals. I initially felt a little unsure about whether I should join; I worried whether my small goals would pale in comparison to the “real” academic writers and researchers that would surely be in the group. I worried that I might find myself in above my head – perhaps even embarrassingly so. Despite these anxieties – actually because of them – I knew the right thing to do was to push forward and commit to the group.

Now two years later, I am happy to share my experience in the group has been so much better and so much more than I anticipated. Knowing that I would need to report to the group each month helped me keep on track with the encyclopedia article, which I am happy to report was published earlier this year. I have learned from – and felt supported by – group members with more accomplished publishing histories, and I have been encouraged to discover other colleagues who are, like me, just trying to get their “feet wet” in the world of academic publishing.  I received advice and guidance about managing the work-life-writing balance, and in those months where I did not meet my writing goals, I was met with understanding and supportive encouragement that helped me get back on track. Being part of the writing group has helped me begin to shift my own conceptualization of myself in my career. Though clinical work and clinical writing is still how I want to spend most of my working hours, I see a place for academic writing in my career – and better yet, I believe that I can do it.

In sum, if you – like me – are primarily a clinician who would like to branch out into research and/or academic writing, here is what I recommend:

• Find a writing group, or a small group of colleagues who can help support you, encourage you, and keep you on track.
• Keep your eyes open for opportunities – even small ones – that get you writing. Your goal does not need to be getting into a top-tier journal!
• Jump into those opportunities that present themselves – don’t overthink, and don’t give into imposter syndrome.
• Be disciplined about setting aside time to write. Procrastination takes root when projects seem too big. Break things down; figure out a doable goal, even if that goal is tiny. Committing to writing for just 10 minutes a day is better than not writing at all!

Happy writing!

Julie F. Pace, Ph.D.

Right... when?: Finding time to write when you have a million other things to do

Face it, anyone who has to write, has tried to write, and has written knows what this post is about.  Life in it's many forms has an interesting way of disrupting writing endeavors.  The past two weeks have been particularly brutal with work demands (both expected and unexpected), family responsibilities (both expected and unexpected), and everything in between (home, car, physical) making writing virtually impossible.  I wrote OTHER things (emails, texts, notes, announcements, power point presentations) but not what I tasked myself to write.  I tell myself that if I can figure out how to do all of these OTHER things, I can also write.  My writing group has discussed several activities that have worked for them and I try to implement them in my world as well.  Unfortunately, my world just doesn't always seem to want to comply.  What has worked for others?  1) Carving out time that is dedicated only to writing.  I have a lofty goal of 30 minutes daily, however, I find that 3 times per week is a bit more realistic. The challenge is when and where this takes place (In the morning before work begins? During lunch? In the evening after life quiets down?).  Frankly, the opportunity varies and external realities DO exist.  That said, having a structured plan does help.  This includes putting that designated time allotment along with location, into your calendar and commit to sticking to it for at least 2 weeks.  By taking a scientific approach: commit, track, and assess, you may be able to overcome LIFE. 2) Accountability partnering to track writing goals.  This has definitely worked for me.  I can truly say that NONE of my writing would have taken place had it not been for my Writing group and accountability partner. 3) Take time to analyze what is getting in the way of writing.  Is it something practical?  Technology does hinder progress at times.  If you know you don't have access to reliable internet, computer/laptop, and etc. in certain locations, consider waiting until you are able to get to a place where you are able fully focus on writing.  I say this because sometimes I consider writing while I am waiting for the kid at dance, swimming, and other lessons.  Wi-fi is not always available and I don't relish the thought of using my cellphone's personal hotspot capability.   Is it something personal? Are you your own worst critic?  Do you have Imposter syndrome?  Are you a perfectionist? This is where the accountability partnering and support comes into play.  You are not the only one who has these experiences.  After my ONLY first authored publication, I admittedly worry about being a one hit wonder.  Having my partner and group ensures that I keep it moving! Lastly, are there external realities outside of your control?  Understanding and keeping in mind that if you are doing the best you can, attending to those external realities without getting derailed is OK.  Taking the time you need to manage LIFE and approach writing mindfully will guarantee progress.