the creative conundrum

a) I don’t know a single prolific writer that I admire who isn’t messed up mentally

b) If I were to write creatively again, I don’t think I’d be able to withstand the depression of engaging in/waking up from long periods of introverted, unbounded, and often nightmarish imagining.

c) Writing terrific prose helps order the brain and encourage problem-solving creativity

d) Not reaching that terrific prose makes makes me feel as if I am falling short of my potential/want to create unnervingly attractive art, which is depressing

e) Watching other writers crash and burn as well, I think the solution is to sharpen the mind on words and be educated before being an artist. To go further along the line of rationality, instead of emotion, until you have total control over your faculties. Still, I hear a lot about great writers who are highly educated and still benefit from being high or drunk as they write prolifically, or are suppressing something, in lieu of creating great art that everyone else gets to enjoy. Not to be confused with drinking/getting high=instant wordsmith=sham.

d) We were probably born like this, so fuck everything and most of all, fuck you.

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