Creativity is Hell. Literally.

I was chatting (bitching, really) with two established European authors. We talked for good two hours, straight from the heart. We agreed that all differences, culture, language, and individual experiences mean SHIT (yep: shit, for you should know that writers curse a lot, and not just on the pages of their books).

Authors. We are all bound by one common denominator. DOUBT and UNCERTAINTIES. Life, hopes, dreams, feelings, love, hate, politics, work and creativity be gone. Everything is shrouded in mist, you can call it doubt. It is doubt that propels us to write. Our books may show a whole different picture, often  as self assured jerks, but the truth is that we are all very vulnerable. Everything you read in our books is borne out of doubt, fake reality we escape to, something we cannot find in life. This is why writers are the lifeline of psych docs, the psychiatrists, and it is why writers’ life expectancy is below average. Despite the facade we are weak and so often cannot face the overwhelming uncertainty, as in the case of my Canadian writing buddy who committed suicide only a few weeks ago…

Creativity brings out all those uncertainties, throws them in our face to choke on. It is Hell. Literally.