Do you want to write, but can't seem to do it? Do you experience yourself as having "writer's block?"

Well, I don't believe that you can't write. If you're like most people I know, you've talked or even tricked yourself into a state of paralysis around writing. You feel like you can't write, but you rarely if ever seriously examine the thoughts that inform those feelings.

Well, indulge me for a few minutes while we do a little cognitive behavioral therapy around those negative impulses. Check out these five common thoughts that make people feel that they can't write. I'll bet that you think/feel one of them.

Reason number one: I feel like I can't write because what I have to say might be exposed as wrong.

Gee, that doesn't stop Christopher Hitchens from writing. Here's a guy who managed to convince a huge portion of liberal/left America to support (or at least not oppose) what is probably the worst foreign policy/military disaster in United States history: Bush II's horrendous invasion of Iraq.

But does that slow him down? Hell no. Hitch just keeps cranking them out: a book about Orwell. a tome about Jefferson - then yet another book about why religion sucks. God only knows (heh heh) what he'll come up with next.

What "I might be wrong" writers' block sufferers don't get is that of course you'll be wrong. A lot of being a writer is about being wrong. Everybody is wrong at least half the time. The only difference is that writers put their wrongness on the public record.

Speaking personally, I appreciate it when people point out that I'm wrong, because it means

• They're paying attention. I admit it. I like attention. Don't you? That's at least part of why you want to be a writer, right?
• I'm entertaining them. People love it when you're wrong, or at least when they're sure you're wrong. Think about it: what's more fun than reading about somebody else being wrong? Well, perhaps somebody you don't like losing all their money in an investment scam, but somebody just being wrong comes close.
• I might learn something, like, why I was wrong.

So take the "I might be wrong" excuse off your list. As a writer, you have an obligation to be wrong. Your wrongness will entertain people, help them clarify their thinking, improve your thinking, and draw attention to your writing.

Come to think about it, you're wrong for not writing because you might be wrong. So even if you don't write, you're wrong anyway. You can't win. You may as well write.

Reason number two: I feel like I can't write because I'm not sure what I think yet.

What makes you so sure that you have to be sure about what you think to write? In fact, your lack of surety on some subject is probably one of the most interesting things you can write about.

The chances are that your reasons for not being certain about some political or social question are very sound. You can see contradictions in various positions on the problem. You can perceive a need for further investigation of the issue. The plain fact is that an exposition on your lack of clarity will improve the clarity of others, as well as yours.

The world is stuffed to the gizzards with people who are absolutely sure about everything. I think it was Voltaire who said that they're the most dangerous people (although I'm not sure it was him). So whatever your motives for writing, in the interest of world peace and harmony, you have a solemn duty to write down and publish your lack of sureness on some matter.

Reason number three: I feel like I can't write because I don't write well.

Join the crowd. Most people don't write well. They don't write well because they don't practice their writing. Having left their writing skills unpracticed, they don't write well.

So you have to break the loop. First, I recommend that you join the International Association of Bad Writers. It's a very large organization. Its most prominent members include Shirley MacLain, Michel Foucault, the Dalai Lama, most tech writers, half of all journalists, and about ninety percent of all college professors, especially the lit professors.

These people have had absolutely no compunction about inflicting their lousy writing on the world. Safely embedded within their ranks, hardly anyone will notice your comparatively modest literary shortcomings. You thus have found excellent cover to practice your writing until it improves.

Reason number four: I want to write but I feel that don't have the time

Oh please.

If you've got the time to watch lousy movies and TV shows, write long emails to friends, endlessly argue the same issues with your spouse for years, have screaming matches about politics over the telephone, go to dumb political events where famous people say stuff that you'll forget in ten minutes, read other people's blogs, faithfully read every David Brooks and Thomas Friedman column in The New York Times and then gripe about them, constantly threaten to go to graduate school next year or the year after that, listen daily to All Things Considered cozy up to whoever is in charge at the moment, or constantly threaten to learn Farsi or Arabic, then you've jolly well got the time to write a five to nine paragraph essay about something once a week.

At the least the other reasons have some semblance of complexity. This one is pretty unconvincing.

Reason number five: I feel like I can't write because it feels like it doesn't matter what I say.

Well, now we're getting somewhere.

Chances are that you feel this way because you are surrounded by people who say and write lots of things, but do not tell the truth. When I say "truth," I mean their truth, that is, what they really think, inside. They write a lot, but they do not say what they really think, creating a vast, vacuous discourse that depresses you and everyone else.

Here is the good news: People who tell their honest truth are in extremely short supply. Their honest truths are rarely earth shattering and profound. They often amount to little more than modest expressions of doubt, curiosity, uncertainty, or changes of heart. But when writers articulate these truths, people pay attention, sometimes with anger, but often with gratitude, because we are all starved for honesty.

Your job as a writer is to strive for that clear expression of honesty. You won't hit the mark often. But you'll get there now and then. And yes, your doing that will matter. Try it and you will see.

Reasons number six to infinity: (fill in the blank)

My experience is that most reasons for not writing are rooted in a fear that some cherished part of the individuals' self-image will be shattered; that s/he will be exposed as a fraud.

Well, guess what? If you're lucky, you will. And what's so bad about that? We're all frauds to some degree or other. Life's profoundest moments often involve being exposed to one's inner fraudulence. And what better way to invite such revelations on oneself than by public writing?

There is, of course, That Other Matter. You only go around once, probably. Writing represents the easiest and most affordable means of documenting not only your brief stay on this plane of existence, but chronicling the evolution of that amazing gift that you accidentally or purposefully received, your consciousness.

So fool yourself. Think and feel about writing as not writing. Think of it as just another thing that you just do that you happen to have always wanted to do even though it is something you already do. Think and feel about writing like flossing, crossword puzzling, lawn mowing, nail clipping, pencil sharpening, car washing, dish washing, dog walking, tea drinking, snack sneaking, or bike riding.

But please don't think of writing as something that has to be eternally true, absolutely certain, picture eloquent, exquisitely framed, and book length to boot. Writing never has to be any of these things. It can be chaotic, unbalanced, uncertain, plainly false, and amazingly short and still be writing, gifted writing at that.

So feel free to be a writer. For you. For me. For everyone. While you still have time.