A study published this week by the Karolinska Institute in
Sweden reported that creativity is often part of a mental illness and that
writers are particularly susceptible. Apparently, those of us who write are at
higher risk of anxiety and bipolar disorders, schizophrenia, depression and
even substance abuse. We are almost twice as likely as the general population
to kill ourselves. Sobering
but unsurprising stuff.
Indeed there are ample examples from our literary past to
support this. Virginia Woolf, Hans Christian Andersen, Ernest Hemingway and Graham
Greene all suffered from mental illness, though whether, if you take the
universe of writers as opposed to a few well known examples, the premise stands
up remains open to question.
But if the findings are correct, why should that be? What is it
in the make-up of a writer that makes them prone to mental illness or, to be
more accurate, what is it in the make-up of a depressive that makes them likely
to be a good writer? Certainly
we can all identify with the moment when we convince ourselves that everything
we have written is terrible and that we’re not really good enough to be a
writer at all. Self-doubt and writing go hand in hand.
Perhaps it is because us Brit Writers need to see the world from
a different point of view. They need to take themselves out of the mix and view
the world from a separate place. Maybe it’s not in the writer’s nature to take
every incident, relationship or new person at face value but to turn our
inquisitive minds instead to where each fits in to the patchwork of life. It’s
the writer’s pre-occupation to see whatever happens to them or around them as
the potential starting point of a new story. It’s the writer’s pre-occupation
to be more aware of human frailties and human mortality in setting our
behaviours and our values in context. And for awareness of human frailties and
mortality, you can read awareness of our own individual frailties and
mortality. This means we ask ourselves the challenging, difficult questions of
life that we want our characters to confront and answer, which in turn means we
must confront and answer them for ourselves. And it is this that can make us
prone to introspection and depression.
How many of us have found the things we say or feel being out of
kilter with the views of our friends? Perhaps our thought processes are
genuinely different. I remember observing that if this was essentially as good
as life was going to get and then we die, why not cut to the chase sooner and
kill yourself? To me this was a legitimate question. Why put up with the crap
that life throws at you and struggle when you can just go straight to the end
game? I was genuinely shocked how many people found this a shocking question to
even ask, let alone a shocking position to adopt. I still am.
Writing instead can become an escape from this depression.
Writers can create the world and the characters that help them work through the
self-doubt, to find the answers that our inner voice or inner critic poses of
us and, as Edgar Allen Poe famously said, use our ability to write as a “desperate
attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable
loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.”
Yes, indeed. I can relate to all that. There's also a theory/evidence that folks with schizotype personalities make wider, and often bizarre, neural connections within their brains, (which would be helpful to writers). Schizotypy is associated with creativity, but now I'm dredging my memory...I like your piece anyway! @sarajanesheikh / BW contributor. :0))
ReplyDeleteI can also relate to this, as a longterm depressive. It's somewhat chicken and egg question, I think, as to which comes first, the depressive personality or the desire to write. Perhaps both feed each other? I too, find myself astonished by the shocked reaction of the general populace to those 'difficult' questions. (Which makes me feel like I must be a bit odd.)
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