Brick by Brick: Managing Writing Anxiety with Rhonda Douglas

Brick by Brick: How to Manage Writing Anxiety and Actually Finish Your Book

You know the feeling. You blocked the time. You told yourself today was the day. And then — somehow — you’re standing at the fridge looking for chocolate, or you’ve got fourteen research tabs open, or you’re scrolling Instagram telling yourself it’s “writing content,” so it counts.

It doesn’t count. And Rhonda Douglas wants you to know that’s not a willpower problem. It’s a nervous system problem — and the good news is, that’s fixable.

In this episode, Rhonda — host of the Resilient Writers Radio Show, creator of the First Book Finish program, and award-winning poet and fiction writer — returns to the show to talk about creative anxiety: what it is, why it follows every writer no matter how accomplished, and the concrete tools that get you back to the calm, centered state where the words actually flow.

Creative anxiety isn’t a beginner’s problem

Most writers assume the fear will fade once they’ve “made it.” Rhonda gently dismantles that hope. She’s worked with writers who have published six or eight books, been shortlisted for awards, and built the dream author life — and they still feel anxiety sitting down to write the next one. Why? Because you haven’t written that book yet. Every new project is uncharted, so a little fear is permanent. The skill isn’t eliminating anxiety; it’s noticing it and knowing how to come back to center.

That self-doubt often shows up as a small voice insisting you can’t do this — especially on a first book, when your brain goes looking for evidence you can pull it off and comes up empty. Rhonda has met writers who’d finished twelve manuscripts and still didn’t feel they could call themselves authors. The voice lies. The work is real.

Writer’s block is nervous-system regulation

Here’s the reframe that changes everything: anxiety and fear are your sympathetic nervous system — the fight, flight, freeze, or fawn response — switching on. Your best creative work happens in the parasympathetic state: grounded, centered, calm. So the entire game is learning to trigger that calmer system before you write, and to return to it when you feel your shoulders creeping up toward your ears mid-scene.

Rhonda wishes someone had taught her this in junior high. (Her two-year-old grandson is learning nervous-system regulation in daycare — proof the rest of us can learn it too.)

Three-minute “biologic hacks” that work every time

Rhonda’s favorite tools take three minutes and a timer:

Deep breathing. Before a session, she sets a timer for three minutes, closes her eyes, and breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth — but mindfully, observing the temperature of the breath and where she’s holding tension, as if she’ll have to write a descriptive paragraph about it later. It’s a mini-meditation that works even for people who don’t think they like meditation. Timer goes off; she starts writing.

Adult coloring. Three minutes with colored pencils and a Jane Austen coloring book, then set it aside and write. Any soothing, repetitive activity works — needlepoint, embroidery, watercolor — whatever centers you.

Alexa nailed the metaphor: it’s a palette cleanser, like the bite between wine tastings. It transitions you out of the go-go-go of daily life so you don’t come sliding into your writing chair “coming in hot,” where your creative unconscious can’t do its best work. And if anxiety spikes mid-session? Stop, set the timer, reset, return.

Brick by brick: the antidote to time pressure

For Alexa — a full-time publishing professional, mom of teenagers, and novelist-in-the-margins — the anxiety is about time. Twenty minutes feels like too little, so the pressure to make those twenty minutes perfect becomes its own block.

Rhonda’s reframe: books are written in consistent layers. Twenty minutes, twenty minutes, twenty minutes — and one day you look up and there are eighteen chapters. Anne Lamott said bird by bird; Rhonda says brick by brick. And if 200 words doesn’t feel like enough, it’s still 200 words you didn’t have before you sat down.

Even pantsers need just enough outline

Both Alexa and Rhonda are recovering pantsers, and both make the same confession: zero structure creates more anxiety, not less — especially on deadline, staring down seventeen unwritten chapters with no map.

Rhonda teaches an “essential book outline” in First Book Finish: enough structure to respect fundamental story shape without locking you in. Who is your protagonist at the beginning, and what state are they in? What do they want? What stands in the way, internally and externally? Who are they at the end? From there she brainstorms scenes — three that show external obstacles, three that show the character getting in her own way. That’s enough to guarantee your protagonist changes, which is what makes an ending satisfying.

Knowing your genre’s beats and obligatory scenes does the same work. As Rhonda learned the hard way: she pantsed a historical mystery and discovered, two-thirds through the draft, that she had the wrong murderer. (Ten out of ten, do not recommend. The author shouldn’t be finding out whodunit at the same time as the reader.)

Train your brain that writing feels good

Rhonda builds a personalized writing ritual she changes seasonally. In an Ottawa winter: Dickens mittens, a shawl, three lit candles, hot cocoa, a fountain pen and a big blank book, Yo-Yo Ma’s Bach cello suites on the playlist, and a single French licorice-orange candy. In summer: lemonade at a picnic table.

The point isn’t aesthetics. By engaging all five senses with things that feel good, she’s training her brain that writing is pleasant, writing is delicious, writing feels good — the opposite of the usual “why is this so hard?” message that makes your protective brain hand you your phone.

Alexa’s version: packing the laptop, leaving the house, buying the too-expensive fancy coffee, and sitting in a Starbucks (Taylor Swift on the speakers) to envision the full-time author life. Big honking headphones double as a “do not disturb” sign. And meeting another writer to chat, then write 30 minutes, chat, then write again? That’s body-doubling, and it’s gold.

There are no bad writing sessions

Not every session feels great, and that’s allowed. Some days you write 50 words; some days 450. If you’re stuck, brainstorm six scenes you could write instead of repeating “I’m stuck, I’m stuck.” Critically: when you label a session “bad,” your brain decides writing didn’t feel good and quietly steers you away next time. Every time you show up for your book, it’s good. Your brain wires to whatever you repeat — so wire it toward the desk.

Release the pressure

Rhonda’s parting wisdom for everyone fitting writing in around toilet paper runs and a day job: the book takes as long as it takes, and you’re on time as long as you keep laying bricks. Her personal mantra when she hits a wall: I’m always learning and growing as a writer. That single reframe turns “I don’t know what I’m doing here” from a verdict into a normal part of the process.

Want accountability and community to keep you going?

Rhonda and Alexa agree on one thing completely: most working writers can’t do this alone. Coaching, critique groups, retreats, writing sprints, and body-doubling are what keep the bricks stacking.

If that’s the missing piece for you, the WIP Business Bootcamp this August 2026 is built for exactly this next stage — the foundations of running a sustainable, legal, and profitable author or publishing business once your book is finished. And for year-round accountability, WIP Society wraps it all together: a full ticket to the virtual Women in Publishing Summit each March, three bootcamps a year, monthly Q&As, networking, and weekly writing sprints — the structured, supportive community Rhonda describes as essential. Learn more at mywipsociety.com.

You can find Rhonda at resilientwriters.com, on Instagram @resilientwriters, on the Resilient Writers Radio Show, and inside her year-long First Book Finish program.

Now go lay down your next 200 words. They’re 200 you didn’t have before.

Q: What is creative anxiety or writer’s block?
A: Rhonda Douglas describes it as writer’s resistance that intensifies into writer’s block — that sense of “I’m supposed to write today, but I don’t want to,” often triggered by normal self-doubt. She frames it as a nervous-system response: your sympathetic (fight/flight/freeze/fawn) system activating, when good creative work needs your calmer parasympathetic state.

Q: How do you overcome writer’s block quickly?
A: Use a three-minute “biologic hack” to regulate your nervous system before writing — deep breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth (observed mindfully), or a soothing activity like adult coloring. Set a timer, reset, then write. If anxiety spikes mid-session, stop and reset again.

Q: Do pantsers need an outline?
A: Rhonda recommends “just enough” structure — an essential book outline that respects fundamental story beats: who your protagonist is at the start, what they want, the internal and external obstacles in their way, and who they become by the end. Knowing your genre’s obligatory scenes removes a huge amount of anxiety.

Q: How can you write a book when you have a full-time job?
A: Build it brick by brick. Books are written in consistent layers — 20 minutes at a time. Release the pressure to make every short session perfect, lean on accountability (coaching, critique groups, writing sprints, body-doubling), and remember every session counts, whether you write 50 words or 450.

Q: How do you train your brain to enjoy writing?
A: Create a personalized writing ritual that engages the five senses — music, a signature drink, a small treat, candles, texture — so your brain learns that writing feels good rather than “why is this so hard?” Avoid labeling sessions as “bad,” which teaches your brain to avoid the work.