Sometimes the words just won't come. Blank page. Blank screen. Blank mind. Frustration and void. I can't count the number of times I've spent an hour or four staring at 19 diagonal inches of widescreen LCD nothingness, wondering if I'll ever again compose a worthwhile sentence.

I admit it. I need help. I need inspiration.

I need to read.

That's right, no fresh air for me. No vigorous exercise. No peaceful meditation. My remedy for writer's block is a healthy dose of quality prose, maybe even some poetry. Sometimes it's something I've read before, other times I go back to the old standbys — classic pieces that never fail to inspire. Occasionally I'll go back a couple millennia or more, because — despite the barriers of time and translation — modern writers can still learn plenty from the most inspirational (and best-selling) book of all.

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I'm not talking about character development or story arc or any of the other sweeping lessons that some authors cite when examining the Bible. No, I'm talking nuts and bolts; stuff like simply using the right words at the right time. After all, Proverbs 25:11 tells us that "A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver." Though I don't fully grasp the cultural or historical basis for the juxtaposition of fruit and precious metals, I'm going to go out on a limb and conclude that "a word aptly spoken" is nonetheless a good thing.

Scripture has that effect. You have no idea what a "white-washed sepulcher" is, but when read in context, you figure out pretty quick that it's not much of a compliment. That's because the passage (Matthew 23:27) makes sure we get the point. Not only are scribes and Pharisees dismissed as hypocrites, they are compared to tombs that, while beautiful on the outside, are nothing more than a container for dead people's remains. And if the point still isn't obvious, Jesus spells it out again in the next verse, once more with feeling: "On the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness."

To be honest, the passage basically repeats the same sentiment twice, yet with just enough variation that the reader hardly notices. The Bible is rife with this sort of construction, though Jude employs it with particular skill and effectiveness when alerting believers to the presence of false teachers in their midst. Jude warms up slowly, first referring to these godless men as "dreamers [who] pollute their own bodies" and "unreasoning animals," but in verses 12-13 he really hits his stride:

These men are blemishes at your love feasts, eating with you without the slightest qualm — shepherds who feed only themselves. They are clouds without rain, blown along by the wind; autumn trees, without fruit and uprooted — twice dead. They are wild waves of the sea, foaming up their shame; wandering stars, for whom blackest darkness has been reserved forever.

There are no less than six vivid metaphors in these two verses, each one expressing a different attribute. Yet taken together the conclusion is unmistakable. Basically, Jude explains, these guys are hedonistic, irresponsible and selfish, offering spiritual refreshment but delivering none. They are nothing but empty promises, morally bankrupt and destined for damnation. The verdict is sweeping, but Jude is positively poetic in his delivery.

Of course, it doesn't always require six metaphors to make a point. Sometimes a single word can speak volumes. Take, for example, one of the Bible's most quoted passages, Romans 6:23 — "For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." Notice that it doesn't read: "the result of sin is death," or "the penalty of sin is death ..." or even "the punishment of sin is death ...," though a case could be made that they all suggest the same thing.

Instead, Paul employs a carefully chosen word to paint a carefully chosen picture. First, the word "wages" speaks in direct contrast to God's "gift" later in the sentence. Salvation is free, it can't be bought. Second, Paul's use of the word "wages" helps the reader understand that spiritual death, unlike eternal life, is actually earned through the laborious act of sinning. So much meaning in just one simple word.

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Just as variations on a theme enhanced the lessons of Matthew 23 and Jude, so can repetition when used in the form of a question. This technique appears throughout the Psalms, as in chapter 13, wherein David begs the Lord not to forsake him in his hour of need:

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?

Five question marks in just two verses. It seems like the reader might find this redundant, but the passage never bogs down thanks to the variation in phrasing and sentence length. In fact, the author's repeated questioning likely helps the reader identify with David's frustration. The ongoing refrain makes it personal.

We've already looked at how the Bible's authors echo certain words or phrases to aid reader comprehension, but how about description via negation? Take 1 Corinthians 13, where Paul devotes several words to what love is — patient, kind, etc. — but just as many to what it is not:

It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil ... Love never fails.

Somehow, by knowing what love does not do, we nonetheless understand it better than ever.

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Any examination of the Bible's literary style would be incomplete without a mention of one of my favorite techniques: sarcasm. This one is a bit personal for me, because I've been criticized in the past for a writing style that occasionally makes use of sarcasm, which is somehow deemed less than Christian in its approach.

To those who think sarcasm is unbiblical, I gently invite you to turn in your Bibles to 1 Kings 18, where Elijah — he of the transfiguration and never tasting death — engaged in a bit of friendly trash talk with the prophets of Baal, challenging their god to produce naught but a small fire for their sacrifice. Unfortunately for these prophets, despite their sustained shouting and dancing, Baal never showed. Eventually, Elijah could no longer resist.

"Shout louder!" he said. "Surely he is a god! Perhaps he is deep in thought, or busy, or traveling. Maybe he is sleeping and must be awakened."

And then there's the Sermon on the Mount, wherein Jesus warned his followers to avoid hypocrisy and self-righteousness: "Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?"

Sounds kinda sarcastic to me.

As with any particular technique, be careful not to overdo it. A little sarcasm goes a long way.

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Truth is, I have barely grazed all the writing lessons the Bible has to offer. I haven't even mentioned the literary tools of simile ("He is like a tree planted by streams of water"), paradox ("Whoever finds his life will lose it"), hyperbole ("If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out") and figurative language ("let the dead bury their own dead"). The simple act of writing this article revealed several examples I had never noticed before.

So the next time you spend all day staring at a blank screen, perhaps you'll be quicker to open a Bible. Not sure where to begin? Start by taking comfort in the words of Ecclesiastes 12, where "the Teacher" is lauded for his dedication to communicating wisdom to the people: "The Teacher searched to find just the right words, and what he wrote was upright and true."

Searching for just the right words to write is usually worth the effort. Indeed, God may have spoken Creation into existence, but when it came time to establish the rules for all mankind — that's when He decided to write it down.