Misery = creativity

[Onyx]

I find when I am most in pain that is also when I am at my most creative. It comforts me to pour out all the pain and sorrow into writing or art.

I feel there are two ways to channel pain. It has to spill out somehow, either as a destructive force or a creative force. So many artists and writers turned that force inward and ended up destroying themselves in the process.

Sometimes it feels so strong I can almost touch the energy - creation or destruction all in one.

[Brenda Starrr]

Yup.

I create no matter what mood I'm in. My mood merely dictates what the end result will be.

[Paper Hearts]

I've always prefered artists who work from that same place; Rimbaud or Woolfe or Van Gogh or Munch, Ingmar Bergman, etc. It's really been my way for a while and it's like I have such a love for art that when I lose that weighty feeling from my heart I'll do whatever is needed to get it back again so that I can make things that I feel are worth something again. I believe I do this unconsciencly...

[DarkVampire]

When an idea strikes me for a story/poem, my emotions guide my writing regardless if they are positive or negative emotions. Plus it's better to let your negative emotions do the writing instead of taking control and you do something physical to someone or something.

[bean]

I do my best work when I'm miserable.

[Amerist]

The happy have stuff to do with their lives. They go out. They go clubbing; they enjoy their work; they go out with their friends; they spend their time doing everything but sitting around and -- they don't feel the need to focus on anything more than what they have in front of them. Except maybe disciplined, long term goals.

There is a focus to sorrow. A clarion bubble that ignores everything else, it blows away the petty noise of the world and leaves a hollow solitude. A solitude that can only be filled with your own thoughts. When tied in the vice of misery the outside-world has little meaning, muffled, less distinct; and those inner-voices, long subjugated and forgotten, find their time. With focus comes a different sort of discipline, one when applied burns like a magnesium flare: sudden, startlingly bright, and very, very hot.

The intensity of melancholy sorrow pushes towards the edges of madness; it clarifies, distills, makes palpable through dint of emotion those things that are too easily forgotten in the mad mayhem of waking life. Without an agenda, without things to do, without anything but time to ruminate on old thoughts, sit, and bring shape to thoughts and feelings.

Powerful emotions make for powerful work.

[mallochai]

The happy have stuff to do with their lives. They go out. They go clubbing; they enjoy their work; they go out with their friends; they spend their time doing everything but sitting around and -- they don't feel the need to focus on anything more than what they have in front of them. Except maybe disciplined, long term goals.

There is a focus to sorrow. A clarion bubble that ignores everything else, it blows away the petty noise of the world and leaves a hollow solitude. A solitude that can only be filled with your own thoughts. When tied in the vice of misery the outside-world has little meaning, muffled, less distinct; and those inner-voices, long subjugated and forgotten, find their time. With focus comes a different sort of discipline, one when applied burns like a magnesium flare: sudden, startlingly bright, and very, very hot.

The intensity of melancholy sorrow pushes towards the edges of madness; it clarifies, distills, makes palpable through dint of emotion those things that are too easily forgotten in the mad mayhem of waking life. Without an agenda, without things to do, without anything but time to ruminate on old thoughts, sit, and bring shape to thoughts and feelings.

Powerful emotions make for powerful work.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

yeah, what he said!