The first draft of this article sat untouched for weeks because I convinced myself it was pointless. Then I remembered that’s exactly what creative block does. So here we are.

“You can’t use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have.”

— Maya Angelou

There was a time when ideas would come to me without much effort.

A phrase in conversation, the way someone laughed, the shape of a tree caught in sunlight – everything felt like a doorway into something I could write, sketch, or create around.

And I did. Often without questioning whether it would lead anywhere. I created simply because it made me feel more like myself.

But lately? Nothing. Not a blank page, but something heavier. A strange fog that sits between me and the desire to create. Not a lack of ideas, necessarily, but the will to do anything with them.

Some people call it a creative block.

What I’ve Learned While Not Creating

There’s a kind of guilt that creeps in when you call yourself a creative but haven’t made anything in weeks – or months. A guilt that asks, “Are you still allowed to claim the label if you’re not doing the thing?”

It’s easy to blame life – and sometimes, it really is just that. You’re tired. Things have been heavy. There’s work, or family, or something that knocked the wind out of your creative sails. But other times, it’s more tangled.

It’s overthinking. Wanting every idea to be great before you even begin, so you research and research and never actually start.

It’s fear – of doing it badly, of confirming some deep suspicion that you’re not as good as you hoped you were. So you procrastinate by “preparing.”

It’s being stuck in a rut. Where every day is a loop of interruptions, chores, and nothing sparking any real joy. You try to make time, but it keeps slipping.

Sometimes, it’s just… too much. A million ideas, and somehow, none of them feel right. You start one thing, then jump to another, then another, until you’ve spread yourself so thin that everything feels half-done and unsatisfying.

And through all of that, guilt hangs around. For not producing. For not finishing. For not showing up the way you think a “real” creative would.

Still, I’ve found myself trying to reconnect. Quietly. Softly. Without pressure.

Here are a few things I’ve turned to in the past – not because they’re guaranteed to work, but because they’ve gently nudged me closer to that feeling of aliveness again.

Slowing Down to Notice

I’ve stopped trying to produce and started trying to observe.

I go for walks, not with headphones in, but with my senses on. I watch people – how they move, how they speak to each other in fragments. I sit in parks and let myself eavesdrop, just a little.

It’s not about turning what I see into a masterpiece. It’s just about remembering that the world is full of color and texture and rhythm – and that’s often enough to stir something inside me.

Travel, Even If Only in Memory

From my post on how travel sparks ideas:

Get inspired by nature – watch sunrise over a volcano, hear the waves crashing on a beach.
Capture memories – photograph, journal, sketch.
Learn through exploration – visit historical sites, walk through ancient streets.

It still holds true, even if you’re currently grounded – physically, financially, or emotionally.

Try revisiting your past travels in a creative way:

Scroll through old travel photos and pick one to describe in detail. Use all five senses in your description.
Re-read old travel journal entries or write new reflections on places you've been, now with hindsight.
Create a “memory map” – draw a place from memory and annotate it with fragments: scents, sounds, street names, food, phrases you remember.
Make something inspired by a place you miss – a recipe, a playlist, a sketch, or even a poem using only words you associate with that destination.

If you haven’t travelled much, try the same idea on a smaller scale:

A walk through your childhood neighborhood
A favorite public space from your teen years
The last place that made you feel curious or calm

That said…

If you can travel and feel like that’s what your creativity needs – by all means, go. Travel absolutely helps stir things up. But when you’re blocked, tired, or stuck, your past experiences are still a powerful source of creative fuel.

Creating Without Expectation

There’s freedom in making something that doesn’t need to be good.

I’ve given myself permission to rant in my journal. To sketch badly. To write one line of something and leave it unfinished. To have no end goal, no outline, no need for brilliance.

Because sometimes, what blocks creativity is the belief that everything we make has to be “worth it.” And I’ve realised – especially lately – that showing up, even imperfectly, is already worth a lot.

Still Here, Still Creative

Creative block doesn’t mean I’ve stopped being a creative person.

It’s easy to panic when the ideas don’t come. But I’m starting to believe that the block isn’t the end of something – it’s the pause before something new. Like compost, or low tide. Something is still happening, even if I can’t see it yet.

In a way, I think I’ve been here before – years ago, when I first drifted away from creativity. Back when I stopped drawing, stopped writing, and tucked that part of myself away while I focused on everything else. I’m only now starting to find my way back to that version of myself – the one who made things without needing a reason.

If you’re in that place too – where creativity feels far away or blocked or buried – you’re not alone. You haven’t lost it. You’re still here, and so is your creativity.

That’s why I embrace being a work in progress. The messy middle isn’t an obstacle – it’s where the real work happens. The only way out is to make the thing only you can make – even if it's bad. Especially if it's bad.