Sick in bed

I was determined to banish electronics from my room to focus on getting better.

That isn’t possible when your home phone is a cellphone.

And then, of course, I was just too excited to see how this would work. So consider this a test.

After this, I’m going back to sleep.

{Read more at my new site. Contact me and I’ll give you the coordinates, if you didn’t use to be married to me!}

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Depression and writing

In my humble opinion, depression and writing may, on occasion, happen to be responses to the same stimulus. But writing , or any other art, does not depend on great emotional turmoil. But for the most part, the pain just makes the art harder.

This idea is better put, here:

On depression and the writer | Write Anyway with Alice Bradley.

The idea that depression somehow feeds creativity is nonsense. Depression is a parasite. We all have limited reserves of energy, and mental illness drains these reserves.

Her point was  further supported in this delightful snippet I stumbled upon at The Sun Magazine:

Why must every literary examination of Robert Lowell, of John Berryman, of Anne Sexton, of Jean Stafford, of so many writers and artists, keep perpetuating the notion that their individual pieces of genius were the result of madness? While it may be true that a great deal of art finds its inspirational wellspring in sorrow, let’s not kid ourselves about how much time each of those people wasted and lost by being mired in misery.
 — Elizabeth Wurtzel