There’s a kind of writing that asks more of us than craft. It asks us to show up emotionally. To stay present with the hard stuff. To touch the places we would rather avoid.
In my previous article, we talked about why we avoid those scenes—the neuroscience, the emotional blocks, the ways our brain tries to protect us from discomfort. This week, I want to talk about how we keep going. Because here’s what I know for sure:
Those emotionally intense scenes? They often hold the very heart of your story.
They deserve to be written with care, confidence, and compassion—not brute force. So today, I’m sharing five techniques I’ve used in my own writing (and seen work for countless writers in the Mindful Writing Community) to help you stay grounded and keep writing through the hardest parts.
1. Establish a Safe Writing Ritual
Rituals might seem small, but they’re mighty.
Why it works: Your brain craves predictability. When you do the same thing before each writing session—light a candle, put on a favorite sweater, make a cup of tea—you’re sending a signal: this is a safe, familiar space.
Try this: Choose one small action to begin every session. Over time, it becomes a doorway—one that gently ushers you past the fear and into your story.
2. Break the Scene into Manageable Pieces
Sometimes we avoid a scene because it feels too big to hold all at once. The grief. The honesty. The emotional risk.
Why it works: When your nervous system senses overwhelm, it taps the brakes. But breaking the scene into chunks gives your brain space to breathe—and makes the work feel possible again.
Try this: Sketch out 3–5 beats of the scene. Then tackle one tiny piece at a time. Set a timer for 15 minutes. Write just the first beat. Then pause. Then decide if you want to continue or wait to come back to it later.
3. Write from Curiosity, Not from Pain
You don’t have to relive your hardest experiences to write something emotionally true. You can come at it sideways—with softness, with curiosity.
Why it works: Pain can paralyze. But curiosity invites openness. When you get curious about what your character is feeling—what they’re afraid of, what they’re protecting—you shift out of fear and into exploration.
Try this: Instead of asking, “Why can’t I write this?” try “What does my character need right now?” You’re not performing trauma—you’re making meaning.
4. Ground Yourself Physically
Writing hard scenes is emotional work—and your body feels it.
Why it works: The brain’s threat response lives in the body. When you feel anxiety or resistance rising, grounding techniques pull you back to the present and signal safety.
Try this: Before you write, plant your feet flat on the floor. Take three slow breaths. Feel the chair beneath you. Keep a warm mug nearby. Touchstones like these remind your nervous system: I’m okay. I’m here. I can do this.
5. Don’t Write Alone
I say it all the time: writing is solitary, but it shouldn’t be isolating.
Why it works: When we write alongside others, even silently, something shifts. The fear softens. The shame lessens. We feel witnessed, even without words.
Try this: Reach out to a fellow writer. Schedule a time to write together, even if it’s over text. Or simply find a quiet time in your day when you know others in your writing circle might be doing the same. Knowing someone else is out there, doing the same hard thing, can help you keep going. (And of course, you’re always welcome to come check out our Mindful Writing Community.)
Putting It All Together
These tools aren’t about pushing through the pain. They’re about building a practice that supports your nervous system, your creative voice, and your emotional capacity.
Avoidance doesn’t mean you’re a bad writer. It just means your brain is doing its job—trying to protect you from discomfort.
But growth comes when you learn to say: “Thank you, fear—I’ve got this.”
And you do. You’ve got this.
If you want to take this further, you might set aside a little extra time this week to revisit one of your hardest scenes—with a gentler mindset and one new tool in hand. You don’t have to tackle the whole thing. Just dip in. Start small. Be curious. See what shifts.
These practices aren’t just about getting the words down—they’re about caring for yourself in the process.
Because your hardest scenes might just be your most powerful ones.
Talk About It
Have you tried any of these techniques before? What helps you write through the hard parts?
Bonus prompt: Think about the scene you’ve been avoiding—what happens if you don’t write it? And what might become possible if you do?
If this resonated with you, I’d love to hear what came up. Leave a comment on the blog—your thoughts, stories, and questions are always welcome. Let’s keep this conversation going. I’m cheering you on, every step of the way.
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