How to write even when the words won’t come

There are days when the blank page presents itself not as an invitation but as a test. It challenges us to prove we are up to the task. Even academics, whose professional lives revolve around writing, are vulnerable to its silent pressure. We hesitate. We prevaricate. We procrastinate. We stall. 

So, how can we keep writing when we don’t have the spark (which, truthfully, is most of the time)? 

In my experience, it is not talent, nor willpower, nor even motivation that sustains the work. Sure, all those things help. But the real driver, the thing I have come to rely upon, is something I call skill power: the disciplined capacity to write even when the spark is absent. It is the ability to stay in motion, not because we’re feeling inspired but because we have built the tools to move forward regardless, able to ignite that fire on our own. To write not out of brilliance but out of craft. Having skill power means you’ve learned how to work with what’s in front of you.

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We academics love to mythologise academic achievement. We talk about genius, inspiration, the sudden burst of insight that leads to a breakthrough. That is what writing, thinking and creating are all about, right? In practice, none of it starts with “having it”. They instead start with doing it. Real progress doesn’t look like a lightbulb or a eureka moment. It looks like a person showing up again and again, working through confusion, reshaping a paragraph for the fifth or 15th time, learning to trust the process and putting the work in. 

There is an anecdote about Michelangelo, that he would sit for an age in front of a block of marble before embarking on a sculpture. When asked what he was doing, he would reply: “I’m working.” He manifested his sculptures in his mind. The process of making would then consist of his chipping away at the marble block, with the inner belief that the statue was in there somewhere. This chipping, of course, required skill and tenacity, working with the material and its grain. 

Writing is much the same. Our thoughts and ideas come to us encased in marble. We have to chip away at it. We have to trust that form will come not through initial brilliance, but through movement. Motion, not motivation, shapes outcomes. That’s the heart of skill power. Don’t wait for the muse to show up; get to work anyway. Once we start, something shifts. One sentence leads to another. One idea clarifies. That’s not inspiration. That’s motion building momentum. 

And here’s another thing: the marble isn’t just ideas. It’s everything: our inboxes, deadlines, meetings, student requests and admin tasks. All of it surrounds the work we care about. This is our material. We don’t get to wish the clutter away. We have to sculpt within it, through it. Real skill isn’t about the perfect moment. It’s about showing up when our environment is messy and real. 

Here is a guide I use for writing that you might find helpful when you, too, are missing the spark.

1. Lower the expectations, raise the frequency: Don’t aim to write well. Just aim to write. One sentence. A few lines. A list of words, even. We’re not carving masterpieces; we are gathering the raw material. The final touches of the sculpting can come later.
2. Name the discomfort: When we feel the weight of resistance, it helps to name it. Say: “This feels unfamiliar.” That simple acknowledgement softens discomfort’s grip. It shifts the story from “We’re doing it wrong” to “We’re doing something new.”
3. Make it routine, not heroic: Writing doesn’t have to be a burst of creativity. Choose a time, protect it, and then write whatever comes up in your mind. We don’t need to feel inspired to show up. We just need to show up.

We all know that moment when we open our laptop and the document stares back at us, and the blinking cursor starts to feel like a countdown to failure, followed by the anxiety spiral. But even in that moment, we can make something happen, bring it into being or lay the groundwork.

So, if you’re feeling stuck, try this: stop waiting for the perfect idea or sentence. Pick up your chisel. Start shaping. You don’t need to know exactly what you’re making yet. You just need to begin.

Catherine De Vries is the Generali chair in European policies and professor at Bocconi University, Milan.

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