“Mary’s Bedroom” – Christmas Skit

I wrote a Christmas skit this year for the main church service but it didn’t align properly and we were not able to use it, so I have decided to post it here and fully open it to anyone who would like to use it in the future for their theatre group or anything of that sort.



(Skit opens with OLD MARY sitting in a rocking chair, CHILDREN sitting around her. OLD MARY is talking indisctinctly but emphatically.)

OLD MARY:…and I treasured up all these things and pondered them in my heart. The end.

CHILDREN: Tell it again, Grandma Mary! Tell the story again!

OLD MARY: Oh, it’s very late, and I know you little rascals will be up early opening presents. I shouldn’t.

CHILDREN: Please? Just one more time?

OLD MARY: (Pleased) Oh, alright. This is the story of how Uncle Yeshua was born…

(Focus shifts to MARY’s bedroom on the stage. KATIE is lying on the bed chatting on her phone.)

OLD MARY: Let me tell you, children, having an angel visit you wasn’t an everyday occurrence. In fact, God had been pretty quiet for about 400 years. So, understandably, I was a bit surprised.

(MARY screams from offstage. KATIE looks up, concerned.)

KATIE: Mary? Are you okay?

(Indistinct voices are heard from offstage.)

MARY: (Offstage) I don’t understand how this is supposed to happen! I haven’t even kissed anyone.

(Indistinct conversation from the bathroom. KATIE gets off the bed and goes closer to the bathroom door.)

MARY: (Resolved) Okay. (Beat) Could you write a note to my parents, or my fiance, or something, because it’ll sound a lot better coming from you. No? (Shaky) Okay. Thanks.

(MARY enters from the bathroom, looking shell-shocked and stumbling over herself. She is holding a pregnancy test. KATIE supports her and guides her over to the bed.)

KATIE: Are you okay? You don’t look okay. What was going on in there?

MARY: You’re not going to believe me. I don’t think I believe me.

KATIE: That’s what you said when you got an orange Tic-Tac stuck in your nose. I’m your best friend. You can tell me.

MARY: (MARY holds up the pregnancy test.) I hope you still are after this. Katie, I’m pregnant.

KATIE: No way. No. Way. How is that even possible when you haven’t even kissed someone? You’ve never kissed anyone. Did you kiss someone?

MARY: No, I haven’t kissed anybody! It’s not a kissing test, Katie. It’s a pregnancy test!

KATIE: Well, it’s gotta be wrong. Or expired, or something. You cannot be pregnant. It is scientifically impossible.

MARY: (Slightly hysterical) Ha! Heh! Ha. Heh. Huh…

(KATIE grabs MARY’s shoulders, MARY and KATIE continue having an unheard conversation as OLD MARY speaks.)

OLD MARY: You see, children, I was in shock. An angel had shown up to my house, saying I was going to have a baby, and not only that, told me exactly what that baby’s name was going to be and what he was going to grow up to do! I was scared.

CHILDREN: What was he going to do, Grandma?

OLD MARY: (Teasing) Like I haven’t told you a million times! Your mind has a hole in it, mister. But I’ll tell you again. (Sober) He was going to grow up to do amazing things. Heal the sick, feed the hungry, and raise the dead. And best of all? He came to save us. But it was going to cost him a lot. His friends, His family, His reputation, and even His life.

(Back to the bedroom scene.)

KATIE: But why would God pick you? I mean, no offense, but it’s not like you’re perfect or anything!

MARY: God doesn’t call the qualified, He qualifies the called.

KATIE: Did you get that off a t-shirt? (Beat) You need to call Joe. Like, right now. And tell him to hurry.

(MARY pulls out her phone and dials a number before pressing it to her ear.)

MARY: Joe? Hi. I need you to come over real quick. Sorry, I know you’re busy, but it’s important. Thanks. Love you. (MARY puts the phone down.) He’s coming.

(KATIE rubs MARY’s shoulders as MARY stares down at the pregnancy test, bewildered. Focus shifts to OLD MARY.)

OLD MARY: Your grandpa…was such a good man. We were going to get married. But so far, all we’d done was hold hands! How was I going to look him in the eye and tell him I was pregnant? How was he going to believe what the angel had told me? It would take a miracle.

(Focus shifts back to bedroom. A knock is heard.)

MARY: Come in!

(JOE enters from the right wearing work clothes.)

JOE: Mary? Oh, hi Katie. Um, your dad said it would be okay if just this once I came up here. I’ve never actually seen your room before. I like the teddy bear. (Sees MARY’s expression) Are you okay? I came from work as fast as I could.

MARY: (Stands) I need to talk to you.

(MARY and JOE both stare pointedly at KATIE.)

KATIE: You know what, I’m going to go downstairs and, um, feed the cat. Yeah.

(KATIE exits.)

JOE: You have a cat?


JOE: Oh. Got it. What’s up?

MARY: I don’t know how to say this. There was an angel in my bathroom.

JOE: What?

MARY: There was an angel in my bathroom. And he gave me this. (MARY hands JOE the pregnancy test. JOE stares at it.)

JOE: I don’t know what the lines mean.

MARY: I’m pregnant, Joe. And not just with any baby. This baby is the Son of God. The angel told me that his name is going to be Jesus. I haven’t messed around with anyone, I promise. This baby was concieved by the Holy Spirit.

(JOE paces back and forth, clearly conflicted.)

JOE: Mary…are you listening to yourself? You expect me to believe that? Mary, we had plans! We were going to grow old together! We were going to have a life together, and then you tell me this? How could you do this? You’re clearly not who I thought you were. How could I be so stupid. Dear Lord, what are people going to say? What are they going to think of you? There’s a lot that I could deal with, Mary. I don’t know if I can deal with this. But I still care about you. I can’t let you be an outcast. Your life, reputation…would be ruined. Guess there’s only one thing we can do. We call it off. No one needs to know. We’ll keep it quiet. We’ll just go on like…like nothing ever happened.

(MARY reaches for his arm.)

MARY: Joseph, if we could just-

(JOE shrugs away from her touch and cuts her off with a look.)

JOE: I’m going to splash some water on my face. Is this the bathroom? (Gestures towards the bathroom, MARY nods. JOE exits.)

(MARY sits on the bed, clutching the teddy bear. Sound of running water and a loud sigh is heard, then a step, slip, exclamation of surprise, and a loud thunk.)

MARY: Joe?!

(Focus shifts to OLD MARY.)

OLD MARY: I know it sounds terrible, but that bonk on the head was the best thing that ever happened to us. When Grandpa Joe slipped and fell, he blacked out. And an angel of the Lord appeared to him and told him that everything I had said was true. He was supposed to take me as his wife, and we were going to have a son. God’s Son.

(Focus shifts back to bedroom. JOE enters from the bathroom, rubbing his head gingerly.)

JOE: You’re not going to believe what happened to me in there.

MARY: Try me.

JOE: This baby…is the one we’ve been waiting for? You’re- you’re carrying the Messiah! (JOE takes MARY’s hands.) We’re going to have a son!

(Lights out.)


Easter Skit – Act Three

Act Two: https://booknutsy.wordpress.com/2014/04/10/easter-skit-act-two/

[PLEASE NOTE that this is a group project and I can in no way take full credit for its creation – this was the product of great brainstorming sessions between Elizabeth Schroeder, Katie and Sarah Turner, Greta and Kaitlin Solofra, Christian Casey, and myself, and was therefore written by all of us combined.]


[The disciples are sitting around the table with mostly empty plates in front of them, having just finished their meal. OD is patting his belly contentedly.]

OD: Awww, I am stuffed. [Notices that Peter still has some food on his plate.] Oooh! Hey, you gonna eat that?

Peter: Nah, go ahead. I’m saving room for dessert.

OD: Like pie! I wonder if they have pie…

[Waiter pops up. This time there is less shock and more irritation at the waiter.]

Waiter: Did someone say dessert? I’ve got the menus right here! There are nooooo calories in looking! [Hands out dessert menus and then exits.]

OD: So…Pete and Johnny, are you reconsidering your tall tale now that you have some food in your bellies?

John: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

OD: You know, that JC’s body was missing and all that.

Peter: We know what we saw. The stone in front of the tomb was rolled away and when we went inside, the body was missing.

John: Even his burial linens were folded, which we can agree isn’t the habit of most tomb robbers. If you are so full of unbelief, go see it for yourself.

OD: With all these Romans around? Not a chance! [Makes a throat-slitting motion.]

James: Did you really see the tomb empty and our Lord gone?

John: Would I lie about this?

[John’s question hangs in the air for quite some time until someone enters the room. Without looking at who it is, Peter speaks.]

Peter: We’re not ready for dessert, okay…? [Turns around to see Jesus and Peter’s mouth drops open in shock. The other disciples do the same with various different reactions of shock. The tension is palpable as they all struggle to find the words. Each disciple slowly gets out of his respective chair and goes to Jesus.]

OD: Are you a ghost? Are we in the middle of The Walking Dead?

John: Lord? Is it truly you?

Jesus: Peace be with you.

[Recognizing the voice, they rush forward to hug Jesus. The disciples are filled with joy, smiling. OD waits longer than the others though, poking Jesus in the side and inspecting the holes in his hands before he is confident that Jesus is real.]

Jesus: As the Father has sent me, so I am sending you! The Holy Spirit be with you.

[Happy (OD is even dancing a little bit) the disciples leave, asking questions and just celebrating in general. Disciples and Jesus exit. A few moments after they leave, the waiter pops up and sees the empty table. With a wail, she sinks to the floor.]

Waiter: But what about dessert?!


And that’s it! For clarification, OD stands for “Other Disciple” because the poor lad doesn’t have a name. I’m playing John and I can’t wait!

The skit will be performed Easter Sunday at Crosswalk Church.

Easter Skit – Act Two

Act One: https://booknutsy.wordpress.com/2014/04/06/easter-skit-part-one/

[PLEASE NOTE that this is a group project and I can in no way take full credit for its creation – this was the product of great brainstorming sessions between Elizabeth Schroeder, Katie and Sarah Turner, Greta and Kaitlin Solofra, Christian Casey, and myself, and was therefore written by all of us combined.]


[The disciples are sitting around a table at a restaurant, fidgeting and nervous. Every sound sets them on edge. A waiter pops out of nowhere, shocking them all and causing a general uproar.]

Waiter: Hi, welcome to The Locked Room. My name is Martha. I’ll be serving you this evening. Mary was supposed to be helping me tonight, but it looks like it’s just me…again. [Hands out menus.] I’ll give you a few minutes to look over the menus.

[Waiter exits.]

James: It’s not possible.

John: I can’t believe his body’s gone.

Peter: You know they’re coming after us next.


OD: I’m thinking the chicken.

John: How can you think of food at a time like this? When Jesus’s body is missing and we don’t know where he’s been taken?

[Brooding silence.]

James: We saw him heal lepers, cast demons out of people…he even brought Lazarus back from the dead – so why didn’t he save himself – now, when it really matters?

Peter: He skipped away from people who wanted to kill him before. What makes this time any different?

John: I feel like there are clues we’re missing somewhere.

James: Yeah, let’s back up. What do you guys remember from that night in the garden?

Peter: He was in bad shape, I’ve never seen him like that before.

John: He told us to watch and pray.

James: I don’t know about you, but I fell asleep like right after he left.

Peter: I don’t know about you, but I feel like crap that I couldn’t do the one thing he asked me to.

OD: I don’t know about you, but I feel like waffles!

Peter: Really not the time, dude.

OD: Well, I know for sure that I don’t want anything flesh colored after seeing you cut that dude’s ear off when the police came to arrest Jesus.

[Waiter pops out again, surprising the entire group.]

Waiter: Who wants to hear the specials?!

[The disciples stare at her in disbelief and shake their heads. Waiter realizes that she’s interrupted something and backs out of the room, giving two thumbs up and mouthing “Okay, okay, gotcha.” A short silence follows her exit.]

James: Wait, hold up, you actually cut his ear off? I couldn’t see above those thugs.

OD: Oh yeah! And then Jesus just popped it right back on his head and went with them without a fight! Including that traitor, Judas.

Peter: What a jerk.

John: I know. I can’t believe he would sell us out – sell Jesus out – like that. We’re his friends!

Peter: Insanity, that’s what it is. I don’t know why he did it. I mean, WE had a good reason for running away. Those guys were huge! We were outnumbered. Like…what could we have even…it was…we… [begins stuttering in his attempt to justify their actions] What could we have done anyways?

[Anger/indignation fades away to be replaced with a moment of reflection on if they would’ve betrayed Jesus if the price was right. Peter coughs to break the silence.]

Peter: Speaking of insanity…do you know what I heard about that trial for Jesus?

James: What about it?

Peter: It was an absolute joke. They brought in liars with these accusations that were so off the mark they may as well have been saying that Jesus was a flying unicorn. And the crowd asked for freaking BARABBAS instead of Jesus. Who likes Barabbas? Nobody, that’s who. In my opinion, totally. Rigged.

John: But he didn’t even respond.

OD: What do you mean he didn’t respond?

John: He didn’t respond to their accusations or name calling. Just…stood there. And then they…they beat him for saying nothing.

OD: Is that when they put the thing on him? [OD mimes a crown of thorns]

[John nods.]

[All murmur in sympathy.]

OD: Ouch.

James: Was anyone there when it actually happened?

[Short silence, then John raises his hand in that half-hearted, barely-above-the-head way.]

John: I was.

James: What was it like?

[Short silence as John gathers himself together.]

John: We all know he could’ve come off that cross any time he wanted to, right? We’ve seen how powerful he is. If I didn’t know any better, I would think that he was holding himself there.

OD: That makes no sense.

John: Listen, listen. When he was up there, and there were people shouting curses at him, he said, “Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they’re doing.” Who says that when they’re on their death bed? And, on top of that, he refused any of the alcohol that would numb the pain. Those aren’t the actions of a normal man. He held himself there.

James: But why?

Peter: Have none of you been listening for these past couple of years? He kept talking about his mission on earth. Maybe this was his mission.

OD: His mission…was to die.

John: You weren’t there, you didn’t hear what he said. There was this moment when he was in so much pain, and he cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” He sounded like he had just taken the whole world on his shoulders. And then… [cuts off]

OD: Then…?

John: Then – and I’ll never forget this – he said, “It is finished.” And it was over.

[Dead silence at this statement – it basically hit them like a bag full of bricks. Waiter enters.]

Waiter: So, are we ready to order?

[Set darkens. End of act.]


Act Three: https://booknutsy.wordpress.com/2014/04/11/easter-skit-act-three/

Easter Skit – Act One

My youth group at church is doing a skit this Easter that we are writing entirely by ourselves. As I think it is the best Easter skit script ever written (although my bias knows no bounds), I wanted to post it here. Enjoy!

[PLEASE NOTE that this is a group project and I can in no way take full credit for its creation – this was the product of a great brainstorming session between Elizabeth Schroeder, Katie and Sarah Turner, and myself, and was therefore written by all of us combined.]


[Text messages between God the Father and Jesus Christ appear on the screen back and forth in true text formation.]

Father: Ping

Jesus: Hey.

Father: Wanna talk?

Jesus: You got timber?

Father: ???

Jesus: Grrr…autocorrect. Got TIME?

Father: All the time in the world.

Father: 😉

Jesus: You know that plan we discussed?

Father: For decorating the mansions?

Jesus: Uh, no…before that.

Father: Ohhhhh, that plan. The one you’re almost done with.

Father: Having second thoughts?

Jesus: Is there any other way?

Jesus: Everything is possible for you.

[Texts come quicker and more frantically.]

Jesus: Please take this cup from me.

Jesus: Father?


Jesus: Dad?

Father: You know the answer, don’t you? There is no Plan B. You know that you are the only way.

Jesus: Not my will but yours be done.

Father: I’m so proud of you.

Jesus: I love you too. Gotta go.

[Screen fizzles and turns to static bearing the words CONNECTION LOST.]


Act Two: https://booknutsy.wordpress.com/2014/04/10/easter-skit-act-two/

Edie Withers – Random Scribbles

“She’s been out cold for five years. I don’t expect her to be active just because I’m here.”

“With all due respect, sir, the last time we were graced with Your Majesty’s presence, her breathing became faster and her number of heartbeats a minute nearly doubled. We still have hope that she will come to.”

“Coincidence alone caused such a thing to happen. The Council has half a mind to kill her and be over with the whole business.”

“Your Majesty! They couldn’t! Would you not stop such an operation?”

“A king only has so much influence amongst his men. It’s been getting worse. They intend to take care of the royalty permanently.”

“You’re a great figure to the people, Your Majesty. They must have realized that deposing you would cause the citizens to riot. I daresay they would even have a full rebellion on their hands.”

“You mistake loyalty for adoration, Lucas. The people do my bidding, but they do not love me.”

There was a long pause in the conversation, and then a loud beeping noise was heard.

“Lucas? Explain the situation!”

“Your Majesty, it appears that the patient’s brain has been stimulated beyond the limits that her condition allows. Bowel movement, blood pressure rising steadily, her senses are becoming alive, pulse-“

“I need a quick answer!”

“To put it simply, Your Majesty, she’s waking up.”

Everything hurts. Like, everything. My head, neck, chest, arms, legs, even my tongue. It feels like I got hit by a truck and then rolled over and dropped off a cliff onto a pile of electric plugs and Legos. I think my eyes are crusted shut, because they itch like crazy and I can’t open them. Inside my mouth, tumbleweeds are rolling and I wouldn’t be surprised if there was some sand and cacti too, it’s so dry.

I am unable to even discern my surroundings by touch because of the pain engulfing my body. Up, down, left, right, none of them have any meaning. I could be floating on air and I wouldn’t be able to tell.

I begin to hear muffled noises through my waxy ears, which results in me trying to move. Bad idea. A feeble groan bursts out of my parched lips, and I nearly choke on my own goopy spit, reeling from the wave of agony that followed the slight action. Where is the sound coming from? I force myself to remain still to avoid further suffering.

Then, all of a sudden, I feel something on my eyelids. My muscles tense, and I want to scream. I can’t see, I can barely breathe, and my body is on fire.

The something on my face continues to move, and it pulls away the nastiness keeping me from sight. And then, cautiously, it pulls my eyes open.

Lights. Blinding white lights. My retinas are being seared as we speak, and my brain is slowly being fried. The thing that wiped away the crust closes my eyes for me, and if every bit of air I was taking in wasn’t so precious and everything so painful, I would’ve sighed with relief. Well, at least I know where I am now. Judging by the terrible glare my eyes have just been subjected to, I’m on the surface of the bloody sun.

I am confused. And angry. And then confused again. What kind of stupid cockroach opened my eyes just to shatter them with blazes from heck? Where am I? Who am I? And most important, is there any painkiller stronger than morphine that is within two centimeters of me? It would be kind of nice right now.

A cold item touches my lips. Alien tentacle? Snowball? Cheezy Weezy’s Freezy Treats?

None of the above, I soon discover, as water slowly is poured down my throat through the cold item that I have deducted to be a straw.

Sweet. Baby. Penguins. I could do the Funky Chicken all over the entire universe in happiness. I weakly swish the water around my mouth, trying to get every single dry cacti-infested corner wetted. My tongue becomes more than a giant lump and my teeth feel less like tombstones.

Strangely, as I continue slurping the life-giving liquid, I start to not be so destroyed with pain. Possibly drugged water, but who cares. I need it.

The things are back on my eyes again. Oh, golly. I attempt to prepare myself for the light to come.

This time, however, it is darker, and although it still hurts, I can keep them open on my own.

I am face-to-face with a man. His features are blurred, and I am unsure whether that is from my own fragmented vision or if his mom had an accident while giving birth.

“Heyo.” I see his mouth move, but it comes out like an old record. “Heyo.”

Feeling like I should respond as I keep chugging water, I do the smallest nod known to mankind, still enjoying the sweet taste of no pain and liquid.

He looks confused, and then his arm goes out of focus. I feel something touching my ear, swirling around inside of it. A metal tool.

“Better?” he asks.

I nod again. What am I even drinking water out of? My eyes cannot see. I tap the pipe in my mouth with my forefinger, beckoning for him to take it out. This is a huge life decision, having him take it out, but I need to be able to talk.

He shows he understands and then slowly pulls it out.

“What…the…odd.” I form the words with care, considering them my best sentence in a long time.

He smiles. “Welcome back, Edie Withers.”

Edie Withers. Evidently that’s my name.

Not bad.

Weekly Writing Challenge: 1,000 Words

Weekly Writing Challenge: 1,000 Words.

“‘Mummy, can we go to the park now?’ I begged. I pointed at my new shoes. “I’m all ready!”

‘Yes, just let me get my coat.’ She laughed. ‘You surely are eager today!’

It seemed to take all eternity for Mom to get her sweater on, do her hair, grab the car keys, redo her makeup, and apparently also find the cure for cancer judging by how long she spent in her room. She finally emerged and I buckled myself into the van.

When we got to the park, nobody else was there. It was cold and my fingers near froze onto the swing set chains, but it was still fun. It felt weird, though, like the world was waiting for something to happen. I jumped off the swing and then ran up the slide, going around the jungle gym. It took me  a while to notice that my mother was missing.

‘Mummy?’ I yelled uncertainly. ‘Mummy?” I sprang off the ladder. ‘MUMMY?’

‘Ella!’ There is my mother, getting a drink from the fountain. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘I thought you had gone!’ I sprinted into her arms.

‘I would never leave you willingly.’ She guided me over to the merry-go-round and sat for a few minutes.

A car pulled up in the parking lot. It was really big. A man stepped out and looked carefully at my mother.

Her grip tightened on my arm and she turned me to face her. ‘Ella, I need you to listen very closely now, do you understand?’

I nod, frightened by her intensity. She had never looked at me like that before.

‘Ella, I want you to stay right here. Don’t move a muscle. I need to talk with this gentleman, and I will be back, but you must promise me that you won’t move.’ She stares into my eyes. ‘Do you promise?’

I nod again, my eyes large.

Mummy sucked in a big breath. ‘Good.’ She got up woodenly from the merry-go-round and walked towards him. I could see their mouths moving, but couldn’t hear what they were saying. Then the man held out a hand. Mummy took it and then went with him on the path around the frozen lake until I could not see them.

My legs itched to hop off the carousel that exact second and see where they went, but I remembered Mummy’s words and stayed put. Ten minutes passed, and then thirty minutes, and then an hour, and she still had not returned.”

I paused my narrative to see the effect my story was having on the official.

“I have not seen my mother in fourteen years,” I finished. “She was another victim of the Man.”


*Author’s note: Did I kind of go off topic and not go along with what the picture showed? Yes. But I had fun writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it.

Writer’s Block

Imagine this sunny, halcyon picture. A beautiful person sits down gracefully at a desk with a sigh of relief, finally able to sit down and pour out their creativity. Taking a sip of deliciously somehow healthy coffee, their fingers are gently poised over their computer keys, or perhaps curled tightly around a pen. Time to write, the figure thinks. Reaching back into their brain, trying to discover those wisps of beauty and…

They’ve got nothing. Blank. Empty pages in empty brains. The wonder that you know perfectly well is in there is staying put in its hobbit hole. No adventures with ink today, thank you very much.

No one likes writer’s block. It is the bane of creativity, a giant chunk of concrete that refuses to move.

Yet without it, writing would be easy, wouldn’t it? Without that giant chunk of concrete, anyone could write a novel and it would take only as long as it takes to type it. And isn’t the feeling when you are no longer blocked the most wonderful thing in the world? You feel like you just punched through a stone wall with your bare hands. It may have taken a while and hurt a little bit, but you forced your way through stone. That’s pretty impressive.

That’s hard to remember when you are breaking your fingers on rocks, however, so here are some tips to not get the dreaded writer’s block.

#1: Don’t throw ANYTHING away

When you’ve written something truly terrible, you want to immediately toss it into a shredder and then incinerate it (and go into a three day creativity-induced coma), but you have to keep yourself from doing so. Someday you might look back and realize that that was the piece you needed…and it has been ashes for a while now. You can also look through your old notes to get inspiration.

#2: Take a break

Step away from your notebook or laptop and grab a glass of water. Get a change of scenery. Run a mile. Whatever works to get out of your stupor. Activity is good – don’t watch an episode of Downton Abbey, as much as I know you want to, and have your muscles start moving.

#3: Do something absolutely ridiculous

Make silly faces at yourself in the mirror. Toilet paper your face to look like a mummy. Drink grape juice in a wine glass and pretend you’re a French aristocrat (or real wine, but that won’t help your cognitive functions). Find gold in space whilst in your closet, I don’t care. It’ll help you relax and not be so stressed over that blank page.

#4: Music

Music helps. I prefer instrumental over ones with actual words in them because it helps me focus better, but you do whatever you like. I highly recommend John Williams and The Magic Orchestra.

#5: Read other things

I’m not attempting to encourage plagiarism here, but sometimes the right word combination in one written work can set off your own. Newspapers, magazines, novels, fairy tales. Doesn’t matter. The thing nearest to you that has words on it (no, not the toothpaste tube. That’s going a bit too far.)


Only eternity lasts forever (WHAT? Mind blow) so you can outlast writer’s block. Don’t let it win! It’ll come to you eventually.

Ironically, this post was born out of writer’s block, and it did indeed help. I should add that to the list.

#6: Write about writer’s block