These blogs are meant to be inspirational, uplifting articles prompting folks to write creatively. But what if depression has struck when a blog is due to be written? What if inspiration is simply not in the blog writer’s lexicon?
Generally, of course, one would swap the blog spot with someone else, or force an air of jollity and push something, anything, out. Or regurgitate something written in better times.
But depression is part of the human condition, a severe emotional state. While I hesitate to say it needs respect, perhaps it should at least have a little have air time. And to deny it would not result in authentic writing, either.
So, my thoughts are black, without hope, the things I need to do appearing impossible, ranging from making lunch through navigating spinal injury while finishing challenging renovation work to forging a career as an author. Depression is not an uncommon situation for me, with a troubled past already touched on in previous writing. Recently, however, it seems that the depressive episodes are more frequent, longer and deeper.
I have an inkling that writing may lay behind this unwelcome development. It’s an internal process, you see. A matter of diving deep into the psyche, exploring different thoughts, unleashing imagination. To do so is to let go of reality to some extent while looking into areas of the mind that perhaps do not bear examination, and there lies a danger of spinning downwards, out of control, as depression bites.
Certainly the stage of writing that I am at adds fuel to the fires of depression. Pre-publication, five years of my life are wrapped up in one manuscript. The hurdles which lie between that collection of words and a life-sustaining income are daunting. Those people who say never make your personal interests your work have a point. It is emotionally safer to separate passions from income generation, and even writing commercial fiction would have been less troublesome. Pick a popular and simple genre, teashop chick-lit or cosy murder mystery, for example, and write into the middle of it. But that’s not me, and it’s not many other authors, either. Write from the heart, expose yourself, and then deal with the consequences.
So here I am, savaged by the black dog, wondering if I should give up writing and knowing I will not. Driving a van, for instance, would be more lucrative and easier. Plenty of time to day-dream, and those little stories of the mind could simply go where they wanted to go without having to fulfil a complex, engineered plot line, without fear of readers’ expectations, without needing editing, polishing, dressing with blurb and synopsis before selling to an agent.
What is it, I ask when in such despair, that makes story-telling so powerful that I will not give it up? When I know that my stories may briefly make a reader happy, or sad, or reflective, but will not change their lives nor the course of human endeavour, nor make me rich. Why does it have this hold on me when it feels so dangerous? Why not, indeed, go and clean hotel bedrooms instead?
I suspect that if I could answer this question, there would lie the raison d’être for my writing which could convince some specialist publisher somewhere that Rachel Whitby might be worth taking a punt on. Maybe, then, just maybe, depression might have some value in giving me a different view on my motivations, once the rosy glow of being a romance writer is stripped. It’s not evident yet, but with a bit of work on it, who knows?
I can relate to this so much! The publishing industry is in a terrible state and I’m feeling completely disaffected, yet I still continue to write. Is there any hope for us?
Well said Rachel – I suspect most of us can relate to this. Beautifully written too, which is part of your answer to why do it…
I suppose that in one sense we are luckier than preceding generations, in that self-publlishing is now not only possible, but extremely popular. For many of us, though, it is not the way we want to go, but at least it is there and feasible.
It’s also financially risky, but then it seems that that is part and parcel of being an author. The Society of Author’s examination of author’s incomes will not attract anyone looking for a profession that will make them rich quickly. This in itself drives depression for many of us. It seems that almost the only guarantee of making big sales as a writer is already to be a big celebrity in some other field. Those writers get a large proportion of the resources of publishers and promoters.
As for giving up and going into a field that will make a regular guaranteed income whilst allowing the time and energy needed to write: in the past one might have become a lighthouse keeper, or, as a friend of mine did, a railway signalman on a fairly quiet line where most of his time was spent writing his book. But I always worried he’d just be too absorbed to change the points at the crucial time. Both those occupations too have become mechanised, automated, and changing beds in a hotel, working in a teashop, organising tours would none of them give the time or place needed for writing.
That time between finishing writing, and finding a publisher is definitely the worst for depression, and I think most of us suffer from it. Your blog is definitely something which potential writers need to think about. Depression is probably also responsible for the creative spark which makes us writers, and makes us hang on through periods of the black dog.
Also, Rachel, have you thought about sending this to a writing magazine for possible publication? It’s a great piece.
I’m joining the discussion late, but I love Gail’s idea here! Another thought that comes to mind is travel writing, as it’s part of your chosen lifestyle. I know it’s a highly competitive field and has been evolving rapidly as is most (all?) of publishing. I’m sure their per piece rates are not lavish, but perhaps it could provide some bits of payment. The concept of van living is a bit of a trend now in the U.S.