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Writing through the block

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The strong waves of ideas have been flooding my mind. But, as I write this, they have just vanished.

I stared at the screen. My head drooped.

I have been waiting for this moment all day. A moment when I could finally write. A moment with no stress, no homework or any chore to do.

I sat with my laptop on, my fingers waiting for my brain to give them a signal to write. But there was nothing. My mind went blank. The words that had enveloped my mind ceased to exist. I waited for some kind of inspiration. But nothing happened.

Most of us face something similar, at least once in a while. Thinking about writing all day, but when you make time to actually sit and write, the mind feels like a void — wordless. This feeling can be quite frustrating, sucking in all the energy. However, this should not be translated into feelings of inadequacy; try to bring out words that are hidden somewhere in your consciousness. They appear to be missing, yet they exist. How do you find your way to these?

You sit down to write, but your mind suddenly goes blank. Writer’s block is real. Here are ways to push past it

Stop trying to write formally

Do not write “perfectly” or bookishly. Do not write with all the grammar rules. Just write. Write all that you have to convey. Rather than focusing all your energy on writing grammatically correct sentences, checking all grammar rules and punctuation, direct all your energy into putting your words on paper. Get all your thoughts on paper, no matter how irrelevant or nonsensical they sound.

Grammar, punctuation and writing rules are certainly important, but they can create a hindrance when you are trying to write. So, just write. It will be your first draft. For anything to be fixed later, it has to exist first.

When you have answered all the questions and met all the requirements or written whatever you wanted to, open a new document. You can read your draft, choose the content, cut down irrelevant sentences and add them into a new document. All the proper lexicons can be inserted and substituted. And now you will see something that resembles an academic paper. Even if you are not aiming for academic writing, having a draft significantly helps.

Illustration by Sumbul
Illustration by Sumbul

Switch to traditional pen and paper

Typing creates distractions. The blinking cursor is aggravating. Red squiggles. Different tabs competing for attention. One moment you are writing, another moment you switch to the internet and end up scrolling through websites. How about removing the computer from the equation?

Put pen to paper. Find any extra notebook and scribble in it. Try to doodle in the margins. Doodling will help you relax and focus on the task. Drawing lines, or perhaps a picture of a cat, or anything of your choice, will remove any stress of writing. If you feel stumped for words, write the first word that comes to mind. Forget the spellings. Forget the structure. Forget the content. Just write. Let your thoughts flow in.

Ignore the word limit

What happens when you read about the word count given? It’s either, “Oh no, how am I supposed to write so much on this topic?” or, “How can I stay within the set word limit? It’s too little!”

Either way, it looms as dread over the mind, constantly reminding it to hit the numbers. Persistently checking those numbers at the bottom of the screen hinders the flow of writing. Follow your rhythm rather than letting some word counter dictate your mind.

Direct all your energy into writing. It is your voice, something to share your perspective with the world. So scribble and type all that you have always wanted to. Don’t bury your mind under the building burden of the word count. It can be balanced afterwards; after all, that’s what editing is for.

Open the doors of change

Some kids find it interesting to completely change their writing style; though it is not easy, small changes boost creativity and open that window of imagination that has been withheld.

Similarly, make an active effort to expose yourself to different surroundings. Your environment is a major influencer. If you are habitual of writing while sitting at a table, try shifting to the bed, or go outside and write in your garden. Perhaps try writing on the kitchen counter or during a car ride, just focus on bringing a change to your environment. A new environment will remove the brain’s association with the previous one and the current writer’s block.

Stroll outside

What is writing — a mental game, or is your body involved? You think with your brain and write with your hands, so your body is an active contributor to your piece of writing.

When you are stuck in a loop of wordlessness, typing and deleting, stop sighing into the void and instead get up. Stretch. Move. Exercise a bit. Sweat it out. You don’t need to run a marathon. Just pace around your room. Take a stroll outside. Jump. Or simply step out into the sun.

How will such physical activity help you? Try it and find out yourself. Here, exercise is not meant for fitness; rather, it is about forming a rhythm. Your movement will develop momentum. At times, your best writing kicks off not at the keyboard, but at the end of a silent stroll.

So, if you feel frozen, try unfurling.

Whether you are writing for yourself or for academia, do not let the practice of writing slip away from you. Even when you feel like you cannot write, just write one line. Do not give up. Do not wait for the “perfect” writing mood, create it. If inspiration does not arrive, create your own.

Even when it feels pointless to sit and write, as you know your mind is devoid of words, just sit down. Take a deep breath. Open that journal of yours. Write. Write clumsily. Write like it does not matter. But do not ever stop writing. Because stopping feels worse than continuing.

Remember, writing isn’t about making sense every time; it’s about staying with the page, letting the mess spill, letting the hand move, trusting that somewhere in this ramble, something true is hiding.

Published in Dawn, Young World, February 14th, 2025



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The weekly weird

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Cow seen using tools for first time

www.huffingtonpost.com, www.upi.com, www.apnews.com
www.huffingtonpost.com, www.upi.com, www.apnews.com

Researchers in Austria have recorded what is believed to be the first known case of a cow using tools. The study focuses on Veronika, a Swiss brown cow in Carinthia, who was seen using sticks and brushes to scratch herself.

Scientists from the University of Veterinary Medicine in Vienna say Veronika has been picking up pieces of wood for years and later began using a long brush, choosing different parts depending on where she wanted to scratch.

The findings, published in Current Biology, suggest cows may be more cognitively capable than often assumed. Researchers note that Veronika’s actions were clearly intentional and she uses the same tool in flexible ways rather than randomly.

Moon hotel opens early bookings

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www.huffingtonpost.com, www.upi.com, www.apnews.com

A California start up has begun accepting deposits of up to $1 million for rooms at what it claims will be the world’s first hotel on the Moon, planned to open by 2032. Final room prices are expected to exceed $10 million.

Founded by 21-year-old Skylar Chan, GRU Space plans to build the hotel using robots that turn lunar soil into building blocks. Construction is expected to begin in 2029, pending approvals. Chan says the project reflects a future where humans may live beyond Earth.

Flat freezes into ice castle

www.huffingtonpost.com, www.upi.com, www.apnews.com
www.huffingtonpost.com, www.upi.com, www.apnews.com

An apartment in Trois-Rivières, Quebec, turned into a real-life ice castle after a tenant switched off the heating while away on holiday to save money. When owner Jacques Nault entered the flat earlier this month, he found the walls, ceiling, furniture and appliances coated in thick ice, with nearly 30 centimetres covering the floor.

The extreme cold caused water pipes to burst, leading to tens of thousands of dollars in damage. Nault said rising living costs may have influenced the decision, but warned it was a costly mistake. The tenant was evicted and the apartment now needs major repairs, with insurance expected to cover part of the cost.

Ancient olive tree still bears fruit

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www.huffingtonpost.com, www.upi.com, www.apnews.com

In Ano Vouves, Crete, one of the world’s oldest living olive trees continues to produce olives after around 3,000 years. The protected tsounati olive tree has a massive trunk measuring about 12.5 metres in circumference and grows from wild olive stock.

Its exact age cannot be confirmed, as olive trees rot from the inside as part of natural renewal, but ring studies show it is at least 2,000 years old. Scientists believe it could be closer to 4,000. The tree attracts thousands of visitors each year and has survived droughts, fires and centuries of human activity.

Published in Dawn, Young World, February 14th, 2026



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Story time: New beginnings

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Illustration by Aamnah Arshad
Illustration by Aamnah Arshad

Deep down in Felicity’s Yarn Shop lived a light pink yarn. That’s me. I’m not exactly enjoying my time here. Every day, I stare out, hoping that today will finally be the day someone takes me home.

For the past 795 days, I’ve watched every other yarn get chosen, one after the other. Even the newcomers get chosen, but me? I’m still here. Lonely. I’m the only yarn left in the beige basket. I wish… I really wish someone would pick me today.

Oh, look, there’s Felicity’s regular customer, Anna. Anna is looking for pink yarn. She doesn’t like hot pink, rouge, puce, Barbie pink or neon pink. The only pink yarn left is light pink — that’s “me”. I was bound to be chosen. I closed my eyes and hoped that I would be held.

And… yay! Anna chose me. My heart sang with excitement. I was extremely glad she chose me instead of all those show-off pinks.

Now I’m at Anna’s place, in her room and I’m enjoying it a lot. Anna has already started crocheting. Is she going to turn me into a cosy scarf? A baby blanket? A pink flower? There are so many possibilities. I try talking, hoping to ask Anna what she’s making… but then I remember I can’t speak. I’m an inanimate object!

So far, everything Anna has crocheted has been amigurumi — the Japanese art of crocheting or knitting small, stuffed yarn creatures or objects, often with cute, oversized heads and small bodies. I suppose that means I’ll be an amigurumi toy too!

And guess what happened next? I’ve become an amigurumi axolotl. And I love my new identity. I literally look so cute with those tiny eyes, those adorable fins and that little bow on my right ear. Oh… my God! I don’t look anything like the lonely yarn I was just a day ago.

I soon realise that Anna has a crochet website called “The Amigurumi Artist”. When she took me, packed me neatly in a satin sheet and then placed me inside a nice little box — my home — I was being sold to someone named Cindy. I hope Cindy is just as kind and caring as Anna.

My trip to my new home was smooth. When the box was opened, I saw a cute girl looking at me excitedly. Her smile made my day and my life felt worthwhile. Cindy is really nice, kind, gentle and a little shy too! Hopefully, she treats me the same way she seems. Now I’m at Cindy’s place, and it’s amazing. She placed me carefully on her side table and I hope I’ll live a wonderful life here.

It has been a week since I moved to Cindy’s home and I’m really enjoying it. Sometimes Cindy hugs me gently; sometimes she dusts me and cleans me like I’m precious. From a forgotten yarn in a beige basket to a cherished amigurumi axolotl… life feels stitched together perfectly now. Maybe yarn can’t speak, but somehow I found a way to be heard — through the love stitched into every loop of who I’ve become.

Published in Dawn, Young World, February 14th, 2026



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Story time: A driving lesson from my mum

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“STOP!” they shouted. I slammed the brakes and the car jerked to a halt, jolting all of us forward.

“When I say stop, do stop!” scolded Mum.

“Oh… aah… no…,” gasped my sister as she looked beyond me, into a gaping hole dug into the ground, bigger than our car, that we would have fallen into. My heart beat fast as I slowly and carefully shifted into reverse and backed up.

Learning to drive isn’t easy, at least not for a constantly zoning-out person like me. Anyway, what happened next was, I think, the most embarrassing part.

For the last twenty minutes of my turn to drive, and for half an hour before that, when it was my sister’s turn, a young chap had been riding his bike around the ground where we were practising. And no, it wasn’t normal biking. He was pulling all kinds of illegal and dangerous stunts, like a performer in some circus. I know that sounds mean, but he kept circling us, clearly putting both us learners and himself in danger.

I turned and steered the car towards the cricket pitch where I was supposed to practise when Mum, my instructor, noticed two policemen scolding the biker. I looked up too and saw them giving him one or two smacks.

“Ah,” I smirked. “Now he won’t even try to disturb us.”

Once again, my heart dropped into my shoes as Mum shouted, “Stop!”

Why me? Oh no. I would never decipher an instruction in one go.

“STOP!” they both screamed.

I pushed hard on the brake, making our guts somersault inside our tummies.

“When I say stop, you have to stop! You didn’t see such big rocks, beta? I thought you’d turn!”

“Oh, they were so big, Amna, I saw them from so far away….” my sister joined in.

Frozen, I slowly turned towards Mum, who had now shut her eyes tight in frustration. I shifted into reverse, hoping we could escape the rocks that way.

“No, switch to drive,” Mum said slowly.

I drove on. GRRRRRRRR.

“Stop. STOP!”

I braked, sighing.

“Reverse. Reverse the car!”

I reversed.

We jerked back suddenly.

“Stop, STOP!”

I braked, and then I saw them. Two huge rocks, far bigger than the bricks used to build walls, lay right in front of us. I gulped.

As we drove home, I sulked in my seat. I thought of never learning to drive with my mum again. I was annoyed, angry and hopeless.

But back at home, while washing my face, something struck me. Why lose the chance to learn driving over small, silly emotions that practically meant nothing? Learning to drive was far more important. My mum taking time out to teach me during my vacations was far more important.

I sighed. No pain, no gain. And no more zoning out, my brain!

Published in Dawn, Young World, February 14th, 2026



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