I have heard about writer's block. I don't understand it, myself. My apologies to those who sincerely suffer from it: is it that some words come but they are worthless? Or is it that you look into that space from where you draw your energeia and find it completely empty? If it is the former, I in that situation would start writing anything that came to the fore down onto the paper; it is often the case for me that what I think is worthy others find less so, and that what I think is garbage someone else will cherish. It may just be pride, in that first situation, that keeps the pen from its flow of ink, that you have judged the scribblings of your thought unworthy of you, unworthy of even the attempt to render it in print. Or maybe you're right, and it's crap. I'd write it down anyway, even if it is: once or twice, I have just started writing this kind of crap down and found a gem unearthed from it. I never called this type of thing writer's block, just a lesson in humility.
The second case, though, looking within and finding it empty of all form, of all function — this I find quite mysterious, and I can't say that I've ever experienced it. Of truly being blank... my cynical take on this would be that you haven't suffered enough. If nothing else, pain would give you something to complain about. This emptiness itself is a sort of suffering, I would think, so it may be good for you. But to be a bit more on the kind side, if all else fails, I'd pray. What could it hurt? (Then, when nothing comes, you could write about how your prayers don't get answered, whereupon they would be, but I won't go into that any further here.) I don't know. If you're really empty of everything, maybe you've just reached Nirvana and haven't realized it?
me?!