Of course we are. Anybody who spends hours locked in an office alone, sitting in front of a glowing screen talking to people who aren’t real is, by definition, a little bit crazy.
But I’m talking about really crazy. As in, requiring medication, detox, weekly therapy and/or an occasional restful stay at The Home. And I think the answer is yes–for many of us.
A connection between creative genius and madness has been observed for thousands of years. Aristotle is quoted as saying, “No great genius was without a mixture of insanity.” Marcel Proust said, “Everything great in the world is created by neurotics.” Edgar Allen Poe certainly believed that creativity and insanity were linked (and he ought to know). Just look at the list of writers with well-documented mood disorders–Byron, Hemingway, Woolf, Ann Sexton, Tennessee Williams, Eugene O’Neill, Fitzgerald, Faulkner–I’m barely scratching the surface.
But it’s only been in the last hundred years or so that serious research has been conducted on the connection between creative genius and mental illness, if there is one–and some current research suggests that yes, there is. Kay Redfield Jamison, a professor of psychiatry at Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, has observed that a large number of artists–a much higher percentage than the general population–suffer from major mood disorders. She also observed that many of the conditions associated with creativity–such as acutely tuned senses, restlessness, thought diversity, and the ability to associate divergent ideas and thoughts rapidly–are also associated with mild mania.
Certainly not all creative people have mental health issues. Many writers lead perfectly well adjusted, happy, stable lives. However … I personally became aware of the association between writing and mental illness when I joined my first critique group many years ago. Somehow we got to talking about stress, anxiety and insomnia, and my three friends started whipping out their prescription medicine bottles and comparing them. Among them they had enough pills to open their own pharmacy–anti-depressants, tranquilizers, sleeping pills, anti-anxiety meds, you name it.
But the point was brought home in a much more personal way when, a few years later, I was diagnosed with major depression and was prescribed medication of my own. I realized two important things: First, that I had been at least mildly depressed most of my adult life. And second, that I couldn’t write worth beans while taking Prozac. Although I no longer experienced the crushing lows, those little pills also got rid of my highs. My mood was flat and so was my writing. I had no passion.
Thankfully, I was able to wean myself off anti-depressants (under a doctor’s care!) and the writing came back. I also did a lot of research into depression and found ways to combat it that did not involve medication. I still fight it–especially this time of year, which is why I was moved to tackle this subject today.
So why are many writers depressed, anxious, manic, addicted to something, or all of the above? Is it a genetic link? Is it because we seek out creative means to express our pain or reframe painful pasts? Do we write simply to escape? Does our emotional pain serve our creativity by adding depth and richness to our writing? I would love to hear others’ thoughts and experiences regarding this issue.
No related posts.
I couldn’t write on antidepressants either! Which was infinitely worse than whatever made me seek them in the first place, so that had to stop.
When I’ve gotten into this discussion in the past, the consensus seemed to be that creative people have to be more attuned to the world around them in order to make their work resonate with a wide audience. We see things as they are and the potential for what they could become, and that can get pretty horrifying (the joys of an active imagination). That increased awareness may be what troubles us. I know something that has absolutely no effect on me personally will cause me great upset because of the way I apply it.
Gah, what am I trying to say? Empathy? Too much empathy causes mental overload. Maybe that’s it.
I agree with Kerry, I think writers have a greater degree of empathy than people who don’t write. I always thought that everyone had stories in their heads or imagined the what if’s for everyday life, no matter how wild or wacky those what-if’s might be. It was only when I was talking to none writers that I realised they didn’t see pictures in their heads that told them stories or have characters haunt them in their sleep. I quite like my little bit of madness.
I was finally diagnosed bipolar a while back, after struggling with… well, with not being diagnosed for most of my life. One of the most common meds they start people with my type is Depakote. One of the known side effects is that it kills your creativity. Dead. Completely. It doesn’t do it to everyone, but to a significant number of the people on it, and I happened to get lucky, joy. I think some of the other common meds do it too, and I read that it’s one of the most common reasons why so many people with bipolar disorder go off their meds.
Bipolar people are also more creative on the average than the general population. (Mind you, it’s only an average — standard statistical caveats here.) But it got me to thinking about it, especially when it happened to me. And I have a theory.
I think there’s something about bipolar disorder which might (depending on other factors) make a person particularly creative. So the population of bipolar people has the usual number of creative folks, plus this additional number of folks who are creative just because of their disorder. And some people would’ve been creative anyway, but the disorder gave them an extra helping. I think that when these folks go on Depakote or one of the other creativity-killing meds, it only kills the part that was given by the bipolar disorder itself. So if you would’ve been creative without the disorder, the pills won’t kill it — at most they’ll decrease it some. If you wouldn’t have been creative had you not been bipolar, then taking those meds will kill that creativity the disorder gave you, along with suppressing some of its other effects.
This is why some people have the problem and some don’t. Or at least, it’s the best theory on the subject I’ve ever heard. (And I get really annoyed when I read books by certain entertainers [cough] who insist that no of course the meds don’t hurt anything — you just have to buckle down and work!! [smack]) I apparently would’ve had all the creativity of a treestump without the bipolar disorder. For the couple of years I was on the stuff, and also for a couple of years after I stopped taking it (there were other nasty side effects as well, and one or two of them also took that long to wear off) I couldn’t write a word. Or draw, or play music, or even do needlework unless I was following a pattern precisely. Nothing at all creative would come out. It sucked, seriously.
I don’t think you have to be crazy to be creative
but I think there’s definitely some linkage there. [nod]
Angie
“many of the conditions associated with creativity–such as acutely tuned senses, restlessness, thought diversity, and the ability to associate divergent ideas and thoughts rapidly–are also associated with mild mania.”
OMG, this explains SO much! LOL
I started writing again when I had post partum depression. That’s long gone but I still have times of general anxiety. And I do think it’s a case of being really attuned to lots of things….empathy, senses, whatever.
I did the meds route for a brief time and didn’t like it, not because of any stigma but because of the side effects. I did learn lots of coping mechanisms though that I still use if life gets a little bit stressful. Or a lot.
I’d have to agree. It takes a certain type of confidence, and insanity to imagine a reality other than your own, and then convince other people that it is real- even for the space of a novel… that is certainly a type of insanity.
But at the same time, I think the most insane people are the ones that pretend things are normal… and from the writers I’ve met, that is not true. Writers tend to accept the fact that they are slightly to more than slightly crazy, and move on. Not without difficulty and hardship, but writers DO something about their insanity, which is something I highly respect.
Besides, the type of people who write books? Their habits even outside of writing can be pretty… interesting.
I’d be interested in reading those studies.
FWIW: I don’t see how a writer can be unaffected, simply because of the business end of published writing. There are distinct highs and lows; there is no way we can’t internalize them.
As a writer, we put our baby, our child that we’ve nurtured for months out there for the editor’s close inspection. While most are tactful, some issue barebones/stripped comments that do truly cut to the bone. So that’s a low.
Our sales are up. We hit the best selling lists. That’s a high.
Things happen out of our control. Bad cover, publisher drops the ball, etc. Sales go down. That’s a low.
We get a terrific review, an interview, a condensed version of our books published in a women’s magazine. What a kick! That’s a high.
We go back to contract, negotiations starts and things get rough, the publisher refers to the negative, our agent refers to the positive. That’s a low. Turning in what you feel is your best work, that’s a biological high.
Our publishing schedule changes, setting the book months ahead of agreement. We have family difficulty/life interrupt situations, but yet must deliver on deadline. Etc., etc. All lows. We have no sick leave, editorial wants something when we’d planned a vacation, taxes for the self-employed rise, health, etc.
Oh, yes. It is easy to see why writers are more vulnerable to highs and lows. Our very occupations, plus the empath-type personality listed in other comments, make us very vulnerable.
On the flip side, in some of my worst life-situations, writing has offered me a world and a vacation from depressing realities that was badly needed. For a time, I could drop out of the troublesome real world and step into one of my own.
Kara, you are awesome!
I couldn’t write on anti-depressants — hell, they knock down one’s entire emotional response, so it’s really hard to care about anything. I believe they work by making you no care how depressed you…
I, too, have been intrigued by the number of fellow writers who share unhappy childhoods, traumatic adult experiences, etc.
I was reading an article about a woman with real multiple personalities — the point the article made was that each personality arouse out of a need for the young child to compensate for something awful in her life. I got to wondering if, perhaps, my own imagination grew out of a need to find refuge from a poor and unhappy childhood.
It would certainly make sense.
When I read the title I immediately said yes. I know I’m not all there, but I know my writing is what saves me. I can predict my moods by my writing. If I’m not writing then I know something deeper is going on, if I’m writing every day I feel a little saner and I know I’m dealing with what’s wrong on the page. (even if I don’t realize it at the time.) If I’m writing ALL the time then I know I’m trying to escape from reality and then I reach out, because writing ALL the time isn’t healthy.
In essence every time you write you are exorcising one of your demons or for some the same one. Most people would call that crazy. I say that’s self-medicating. The one thing I know is that when it gets too much you should seek help. It’s another reason to have a support system around you, because if you refuse to spot it someone you love should.
Overall, it does take a small amount of crazy to survive in this business. I mean really how many sane people would decide to go after a dream that they know might never become lucrative?
Welll…my childhood was just fine, actually, but I’ve always been prone to mood swings. Nothing extraordinary, but I do think there’s a definite correlation between sensitivity and artistry. How could there not? If you can’t feel, you can’t create. All artists — musicians, actors, writers, painters — have to be able to feel deeply, and tap into that sometimes scary resevoir; otherwise, no one will be touched by their art.
Still, Cait makes a huge point about the business exacerbating what might be otherwise normal emotional swings. I know I have to constantly fight to keep myself in emotional balance, to not let the crazy outside stuff get to the inside Me, or I *would* go nuts.
So, yeah, I do think you have to be a little bit nuts to want to do this to begin with. But for some of us, it’s the business itself that unleashes those dormant oogly-googlies inside that otherwise might have lain happily dormant for years.
I think that the isolation plays a huge part in writers having anxiety/mood disorders. The over-active imagine, the isolation, the empathy all add up. That’s why an ‘alcoholic writer’ is so cliched and sadly true in a lot of cases. They drink to alter their ’state’, or in the cases mentioned above, take medication.
Kerry–
Wasn’t it awful? I will credit pharmaceuticals for getting me over a difficult hump, but I was so glad to get off of them. And, yes, I agree that writers are more sensitive than most other people. I cry when I see a squirrel run over in the street–and I can’t watch the news. One of the articles I read said that people who are slightly depressed see things more realistically than other people.
Nell–yes, I have to admit I like being “quirky,” as certain family members put it.
Angie–when I was on meds I was able to write–it’s just that everything I wrote sucked. I applaud you for dealing with bi-polar successfully–it can be so scary. I have a bi-polar, OCD sister. The way her mind works is fascinating, but I know she struggles with it all the time.
Donna–
I have lots of coping mechanisms, too. It amazes me that many doctors don’t educate their depressed patients about other ways to deal with the condition besides pills.
JC–
One of my writer friends says all of us have a part of our brain missing, but since we all have it, and we all hang around each other, we don’t notice. If you’d like to do more reading, Google “Kay Redfield Jamison” and you’ll find all kinds of good stuff. She wrote AN UNQUIET MIND and also a book devoted to mood disturbance and creativity.
Cait–
Hey! Glad you stopped by. Yes, certainly if you’re already slightly manic-depressive, the ups and downs of the business feed into it. I remember crying hysterically for an hour when I got my first rejection from an agent I really had high hopes for. I’ve had to toughen up considerably. Being in the business a long time also gives you perspective about the ups and downs.
August–
Well, I can’t really blame my childhood, which was pretty happy. I think I inherited my depression, which comes and goes with seasons, though events can kick it into high gear. And, yes, writing is definitely therapy. People who journal about their feelings end up less depressed. Us writers just channel it into fiction.
Melissa–exactly, yes! But I’m not sure if the regular writing keeps depression at bay, or if it’s a symptom of a healthier mindset. I tend to not write when I’m depressed, so it’s an automatic red flag that I need to exercise more, get more sunlight, eat tuna fish and regulate my sleep better.
Karen–
Sometimes I wonder if I would be “happier” in some other line of work. In another life, I would have been a zoologist or a naturalist, studying animal life. But I guess that has ups and downs, too.
Thank you all for your wonderful comments!
Kara, I understand seasonal depression because my husband gets it. Big time, though he’s loathe to go to the doctor and won’t admit that it is what it is. For him, it’s the shorter days, the fact that he has to drive home from work in the dark, among other things. He also hates the cold weather, fog and rain.
I’m even-tempered for the most part and have never felt like I was depressed, but I’m acutely aware that I’m wired a bit differently than most people who aren’t writers. I lose myself in time, I do experience insomnia regularly (the muse doesn’t know it’s bedtime) and I sometimes miss what’s going on around me because my mind is focused on something completely different (and usually story related.) Your comment about associating divergent thoughts rapidly sums up my life, and why I get bored very easily working on team projects (when I used to work in the Legislature.) I consider and dismiss ideas very rapidly because I can extrapolate the potential problems quickly. Staff meetings can be frustrating for me (and others!)
Anyway, I tell people I’m really normal when they ask. I think I am. Then they tell me that “normal” people can’t think up stories like mine, and then I wonder.
Kara said, “But I’m not sure if the regular writing keeps depression at bay, or if it’s a symptom of a healthier mindset.”
For me it goes hand in hand. I know I’m doing okay when my writing habits are okay. And if I’m not writing then I don’t feel right. It kind of feels like I’m keeping everything in and not giving myself the outlet I need. The depression isn’t caused by not writing, but it sure as hell does help to write when you get in that state. (if you can)
That sounds strange, but proves the point of your post.
I’m glad you brought this subject up.
Kara, I think what the others have touched on is definitely correct. To a greater or lesser degree, I think those with creative minds have a tendency to sit and watch the world, to savor the nuances and notice the little things. We watch those who people it, and focus so strongly and empathize so closely that we are aware of all the hurt and pain and emotional battering that humans do to each other. We may sometimes feel for the underdog so strongly that we focus on that pain and try to find a way to show it to the world, perhaps in an unconscious effort to get it to stop. We want people to smile, to read our stories/lessons and feel good, see the light, be happy, love each other, whatever it is our brain has locked into. And when it doesn’t work, we keep trying, battering our heads against a wall of indifference. And we don’t understand why others DON’T see it. If that wouldn’t cause anyone to feel a bit off, what would? And maybe it’s not us that is a bit crazy, but it is those who meander through life totally indifferent to the damage they do.
Allison–
I’ve read your books, and one does wonder where that stuff comes from! (No, no, just kidding. I write serial killer books, too, and I’m normal. Really.) As for the SAD stuff, mine got so much worse when I lived in Kansas City, where winter days are much shorter (and colder) than in my native Texas. I will never live anywhere cold again!
Melissa–
It’s a chicken and egg thing, I guess.
Georgia–
Your comment reminds me of that book, THE HIGHLY SENSITIVE PERSON or something like that. I can’t even remember the author, but I know when I read it, it was me. I’ve learned to numb myself at times–just with force of will, not drugs or drinks or whatever–to the extent that sometimes I come off as cold. I think you’re onto something. It’s the sensitivity and extreme empathy that lead both to creativity and insanity. Yikes! I think I’ll go have some wine.
P.S. It’s THE HIGHLY SENSITIVE PERSON by Elaine N. Aron.
What an interesting post.
‘Reframe painful pasts’ – yes, certainly that, but I also think there is an element of CONTROL.
I agree with the other comments – ‘Life is a B**** and then you die’ is something most people live with, and for many, natural daylight light bulbs are not enough.
IN your fictional world, you have complete control.
Couples have wonderful romantic love, criminals are caught and brought to justice, the innocent are not made to suffer.
Women are safe, loved, in control of their choices.
Fiction to me is the language of HOPE and OPTIMISM.
Which can be so different from real life. Including our own life experiences.
And any of us able to create that window of hope for another human being – that is something to be proud of.
::::”many of the conditions associated with creativity–such as acutely tuned senses, restlessness, thought diversity, and the ability to associate divergent ideas and thoughts rapidly–are also associated with mild mania.â€:::
Well, really… those things mean I’m crazy?
At one point I thought everyone was like me, with a million things going on in my mind at once, and too many ideas for my own good, but when I led a writing seminar and tried to explain the ‘what if’ process, and where my ideas come from, and I was astounded to find that other people don’t think like that. Sheesh. Who knew? 
But as Cait said…
::::”FWIW: I don’t see how a writer can be unaffected, simply because of the business end of published writing. There are distinct highs and lows; there is no way we can’t internalize them… etc….”::::
Yes!! What she said… I kind of thought my mood swings were as a result of the up and downs of the industry, and I still think that’s true.
I would be interested to know if being a career novelist increases your chances of being treated for whatever…? If a life lived this way somehow can bring it on?
I just wrote that, and then read Karen’s comments… “but I’ve always been prone to mood swings. Nothing extraordinary, but I do think there’s a definite correlation between sensitivity and artistry.” and… “But for some of us, it’s the business itself that unleashes those dormant oogly-googlies inside that otherwise might have lain happily dormant for years.”
I do wonder. I have very patient people around me – thank God – and when I get nuts and teary-eyed, sure I’ll never write again, or no one will want to publish me, or I’m really a load of crap pretending to be a writer, my ’safety net’ calms me down. I don’t really go off the deep end or anything, and I think of myself as very grounded and sane, but I think mood swings, as Karen said, are a part of the business. But I’m sure other writers would say it’s not true… I think it’s only that way if you care deeply for what you do; it defines you, and so when it’s going badly, it defines you that way.
Ah well, I’ll take all the crap and mood swings (I blogged about that recently, ironically enough) and the rest of it to keep doing what I love. I used to pretend I wasn’t feeling down because I had to keep everyone else happy, but now I just let it work through, and I feel better after.:grin:
Taking drugs that mess with your brain chemistry, messes up your, well, brain chemistry.There are, FORTUNATELY, a whole slew of books and therapists out there who can teach you lifestyle and cognitive techniques for feeling good again.I am also a Nurse Practitioner–did you know that WE KNOW that antidepressants DO NOT WORK for at least one third of the patients they are prescribed for???
Yes, blunted emotions and loss of creativity, sex drive, joy and passions are all side effects of the current crop of mind-drugs.
It’s HARDER to change BEHAVIORS (like committing to a 30 minute walk EVERY SINGLE DAY) and changing your diet and self-talk, yes, taking a pill “seems” easier.. but they often do not work, and have devastating side effects for creative people!
Amazing post.
I guess you’ll surf on our website..
Ciao