Our friend Loren Eaton meditates on the question of whether writers are happy or unhappy people (and if unhappy, whether that’s a necessary condition). And he links to a good article by Nathan Bransford, literary agent, on how to be happy though creative.
Happy or sad? Happy or sad?
I’m thinking. I’m thinking.
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That’s a good list Loren links to. I like being happy, but I’m getting tired of being very optimistic.
I like Loren Eaton.
It is hard, at times, to keep one’s chin up as a writer. It is a road with potholes aplenty and can easily turn into an avenue of despair.
Unless you’re famous like Lars. Then it’s all good.
Ha! I could tell you stories of the downside of fame. Constant harassment from groupies. Paparazzi everywhere. Boring parties at Babs Streisand’s house. The declining standards of service in First Class. It’s purgatory, I tell you. Purgatory.
Yay! People like me! It’s so much nicer than merely being tolerated.
I don’t know if writers naturally tend toward despair or not. My old college roommate (who pops in here from time to time) has a fascinating theory about the creative appetite. He believes that when artists hit their so-called peak and find it empty (“Meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless”), they overindulge in various things. Think of Elvis and his sandwiches or Orson Welles with his whiskey and steaks.
I’ve said it before–getting published was the greatest disappointment of my life. (Which is not to say I’m famous. I’m speaking of getting published merely as a goal achieved.) I found I had a long list of completely *unconscious* assumptions about life as a published author, and they were all disappointed, leaving me with a gray sense of hopelessness that was very hard to resist, as I was dealing with expectations that were hard to identify.
Now I’m more depressed.
Dadgum celebrity Lars Walker.
All I’m looking for in the days when I’m published (as a novelist) is universal acclaim and non-stop enjoyment.
Now, it sounds like Lars/Luke Sky(is falling) Walker is saying that won’t happen? What’s the point, then?
Ego. Ego and nothing but ego.
We all have that to deal with. Well, at least I do.