Writing isn’t supposed to be this hard. At least, that’s what I used to tell myself while staring at a blank screen, hours ticking by, wondering why every sentence felt like an uphill battle. Stress is a sneaky thing during the writing process. It’s not just about tight deadlines or ambitious expectations—it’s about the moments in between when doubt creeps in and you start overthinking.
This is my take on managing that stress. Not a perfect formula, but a perspective that’s helped me stay (mostly) sane while writing.
Stress from writing feels different. It’s not the same as a fast-paced job or an urgent chore; it’s quieter but heavier, like an invisible weight pressing down on your thoughts. For me, the stress always seems to show up in stages. First, the pressure to come up with a brilliant idea. Then, the panic of executing it perfectly. And finally, the second-guessing, wondering if what you’ve written is any good.
The tricky part is that writing is both deeply personal and public. It’s your voice on the page, open for interpretation and criticism. That’s where the fear comes in.
One of the hardest things about stress is realizing when it’s happening. Sometimes it looks like procrastination—other times, like perfectionism. I’ve noticed that when I’m stressed, I start falling into certain patterns.
One of the common mistakes in casual essay writing is overloading the introduction. I’ve done it a hundred times—trying to cram every idea into the first paragraph, as if readers won’t stick around otherwise. Stress pushes you to front-load everything, which only makes the rest of the piece feel scattered and rushed.
If you catch yourself doing this, pause. Ask: What’s the one thing I need to say here? Keep it simple.
This might sound obvious, but your surroundings matter more than you think. When I started adding small things like plants for student study spaces, it was a game-changer. Not because I suddenly became a writing genius, but because it shifted the vibe of my workspace.
Here’s the thing about plants: they’re quiet. They don’t judge, they don’t demand. And yet, they create a space that feels alive and calm. For me, that’s exactly the energy I need when writing feels overwhelming.
The worst thing you can do when you’re stressed is try to tackle everything at once. Writing is a process—one that works best when you divide it into manageable chunks.
Brainstorm Freely
Start with zero judgment. Write down every idea, even the bad ones. Stress thrives on self-criticism, so ignore it for now.
Draft Ugly
I’m serious—don’t aim for perfection. Just get your thoughts out. Think of this as dumping puzzle pieces onto the table.
Edit Later
Once you’ve got a draft, step away. Come back with fresh eyes. Editing is where you can be critical, but by then, the hard part’s over.
Perfectionism is probably the biggest stressor when it comes to writing. It’s that voice in your head saying, “This isn’t good enough.” But here’s a wild thought: What if “good enough” is exactly what you need?
Sometimes, I remind myself that writing isn’t about impressing anyone. It’s about clarity. If I’ve communicated my idea, even if it’s not the most eloquent, I’ve done my job.
Over time, I’ve developed a few habits that help keep stress in check. None of them are groundbreaking, but together they’ve made a difference:
Here’s something I’ve come to accept: stress will never completely go away. Writing is hard, and that’s part of what makes it worthwhile. The key isn’t eliminating stress—it’s learning to work with it.
Stress, in small doses, can even be a motivator. It forces you to push beyond your comfort zone. But when it starts to spiral, that’s when you need to step back, breathe, and remember that no single piece of writing is worth your mental health.
Managing stress during the writing process is less about avoiding it and more about understanding it. It’s about creating an environment that nurtures focus, breaking tasks into chunks, and letting go of the need for perfection.
At the end of the day, writing is a conversation—between you and your ideas, between your words and the reader. It doesn’t have to be perfect; it just has to be honest. And sometimes, that’s enough.