The Secret To Curing Writer’s Block

Hi everyone!

Writer’s block—it’s probably afflicted you at one point or another, but how do you overcome it?

The secret to curing writer’s block isn’t a secret at all—in fact—it’s something you do at least once a day (for clean freaks and germaphobes, it might be four times a day).


Is it brushing your teeth daily? No.

Torturing ants with a magnifying glass? No, just no.

Dressing up like Sean Connery from Zardoz? What?

It’s actually none of the above. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to realize it, but the secret to curing writer’s block is to have a long, warm and relaxing shower.

Before a riot breaks out, let me answer some pressing questions.


Aspiring writer Wally Lamb:
Tuan, are you effin’ kidding me? A shower? What kind of nonsense is this?

Tuan says:
I’m not kidding. I know there are countless ways to cure writer’s block, but the best method is to take a shower. Go on! Take one. I think you really need one.

Critically acclaimed writer Erskine Caldwell:
What if I don’t have a shower in my house?

Tuan says:
Find a waterfall or move to a rainy country.

New York Times bestselling author Jamie McGuire:
Do you have any evidence to support this silliness?

Tuan says:
Take it from me. 95% of the ideas in my short stories were born when droplets of water raced down my perfectly sculpted body. If you google ‘shower writers’, you’ll find some articles with a semi-scientific explanation on how having a shower stimulates the creation of ideas.

But when I’m in the shower, my mind is completely ‘pure’. Ideas will come into being and my heart and mind will instantly feel and measure the vast expanse of their potential.

If I’m trying to find a way to end my novel, I’ll keep asking myself how. For example: If I’m trying to find a logical way for my protagonist to go from point A to point B, how would I do this? I’ll ask myself this while I’m in the shower:

“Okay, so my character Roger needs to do this? But how do I connect this with that?”

Then the magic of having a shower kicks in and my mind responds to the request.

It discharges ideas at a rapid pace: “This could happen or that could happen”. If I don’t like the idea, I just let the thought pass. I don’t try and challenge it anyway. And then more suggestions and ideas will follow after that until you find an idea that simply ‘works’ or you have a magical ‘lightbulb’ moment.

USA Today bestselling author Jasinda Wilder:
But I do this even when I’m not having a shower. I love being dirty and smelly. Why are you trying to make me cleaner? What’s your hidden agenda?

Tuan says:
If your mind is ‘in the zone’, you can easily cure writer’s block without having a shower. But when you’re in the shower and you’re relaxed, the mind doesn’t have to devote any energy to your body, instead, all the processing power is concentrated on the thoughts you are sending it and it responds in an almost quantum computing-like manner.

And Jasinder, I have no hidden agenda. I like you just the way you are, dirty and smelly.

Bestselling author of the Sunrise Saga, Stephanie Meyer:
But will it help me write a bestseller?

Tuan says:
For the past fortnight, I’ve been trying to find a way to end my novel. And guess what? I came up with the ending while I had a shower. And I believe my novel will be a major bestseller, selling trillions of copies. So to answer your question—taking a shower will definitely help you write a bestseller.

Struggling up-and-coming writer James Patterson:
I can barely buy food for my hamster. Won’t taking extra showers increase my water bill?

Tuan says:
Taking twenty-minute showers every day will certainly result in higher water bills. But think of it as an investment. Higher bills will pay off when you see yourself on the New York Times Bestseller List. Don’t worry Mr. Patterson, you’ll get there one day.

Or you could do what I suggested earlier: Find a waterfall or move to a rainy country. Or do both.

So there you have it—the not-so-secretive cure to writer’s block has been revealed. You can now expect a huge surge in bestselling novels to plague the marketplace as well as meeting a lot more people with great personal hygiene. Be ready for it and protect yourself as if it was a zombie outbreak.

You’ve been warned.

Thanks for reading everyone. Have a great week!

You can follow me on Twitter: @Tuan_Ho444

Until next time, something wonderful awaits!


Novelnook’s Newest Blogger – Tuan Ho

tuanhogoodreadsprofilepicHi everyone!

My name is Tuan (pronounced as ‘two-one’ but you say it in one quick syllable) and I’m a new blogger here at Novelnook. I’ve been writing short stories since I was sixteen and I’m currently in the process of writing my debut novel that will hopefully earn me millions so I can shelter the homeless, feed the hungry, and fund every charitable organization on this planet. I’ll also set aside some money to buy a few jetpacks and hovercrafts and even a high-tech robot to do household chores.


As a published author, I’m always on the lookout for articles and information on the Internet that inspires me to keep writing every single day. Author interviews, motivational posts, and great writing tips are what you can expect from me. I’ll also be contributing a “do’s and dont’s” article from a professional editor who will help make your writing tighter and better. Look out for that soon. So I’ll basically be here to help inspire writers to keep developing their masterpiece so they can publish it on Novelnook and enjoy the fabulous 100% royalty rate. :)


Over the next few weeks, I’m going to share three true and personal stories that are sad, surreal, and full of joy. By sharing these unique moments in my life, I hope it’ll stimulate anyone reading this to jump onto a glorious path where the power of words and the magic of storytelling is cherished and admired for an eternity.

I’ll begin with a very sad but true story that happened a few years ago.


I had just finished helping my cousin fix his computer and it was time to go home. My house was not far down the street—it was roughly a ninety second car ride away—but I had not driven my precious orange Toyota Camry that night. Instead, I rode my overpriced mountain bike.

I jumped on the bike and started cycling home on the sidewalk. It was a dark and gloomy night. The lights above only illuminated the area below them, so there were long stretches of my short journey home that was in pitch black. I couldn’t see anything except the streetlamps I passed under every twenty seconds.

As I got closer to home, I could hear a pack of dogs somewhere up ahead. It must’ve been the stray dogs that lived around my area. They roamed at night, looking for scraps of food. I could hear them chewing and barking, but I couldn’t see them. I kept riding and could now faintly see the dogs feeding on something on the sidewalk. There were four of them. Sometimes in life, you find yourself precisely at the right moment—this was one of them.

The dogs heard me approaching and as a precaution, instantly bolted in all different directions. Two dogs ran in the opposite direction of me, one dog ran to the edge of the road and waited while the fourth dog ran straight onto the road where it came face-to-face with a two-ton car. The driver slammed the brakes. It was too late. The screech of the brakes was followed by a thud. The other dogs barked from afar. They knew what had just occurred.

The driver got out of the car to inspect the damage on her car. She gasped as she looked over at the injured dog. The dog wailed as it lay on the ground motionless while the driver pulled out her cell phone to dial some numbers.

After about a minute, the driver ended the call, got back inside her car and slowly drove off. I remained there on the sidewalk, frozen and frightened by what I was hearing. If I hadn’t known, I would’ve assumed a careless human being had left their newborn child in the middle of the road. It was puzzling to hear the cries of a dying dog sound so much like a human baby.

There was nothing I could do in a state of shock and I had seen too much for one night so I continued riding home. The dog’s wailing got quieter as I rode across the street and into the driveway of my home.

I unlocked the door of my house and stood there. The night was now silent and the dog was suffering no more.


If I had ridden even a tiny bit slower—the dogs would’ve heard me a few seconds later—the car would already have passed—and perhaps that dog would still be alive today?

Some months ago, I sat inside my car and watched the sun fall beautifully below the horizon. I wondered what the dog would be doing at this moment if he/she was still alive today. I wondered where its soul now resided. Had it reincarnated? If so, had it come back as a dog, ant, dolphin or even a human? A hundred different thoughts raced through my mind but then a thought popped into my mind.

Wherever the dog may be today, I was determined to write about its last moments, whether it be in a novel, a short story or a 140 character tweet.

But for now, this blog post will do.


If you’re reading this, I want to apologize for being in that precise spot to accidentally cause and witness your final minutes on this planet. Your death in that moment of darkness has illuminated the core of my being to truly cherish every moment of life.

So for that, I can only say one thing—thank you.


Next week, I’ll be sharing another true personal story that’s so incredibly surreal. It involves James Bond himself—Sean Connery, an elevator, a supermarket and two tall Scottish men. Let’s leave it at that. And the week after, I’ll be sharing my final personal success story that brought me a lot of joy and will hopefully do the same for all writers out there.

Thanks for reading everyone. Have a great week!

You can follow me on Twitter at @Tuan_Ho444

Until next time, something wonderful awaits!