Do you have to be miserable to write?
Maybe not, but I think it does help.
For me, I think, writing is usually born out of a combination of (1) control-freakery (let me present you my world, as I see every little element, so that you can see things the way I see them, and, most importantly, see why I'm so obviously and self-evidently right...), which shades into (2), moral outrage.
The latter isn't quite misery -- as I get older, especially, I'm learning to sustain my wounded howl even as I ease into at least a moderate sense of general life satisfaction -- but the recent uptick in all-around contentment has certainly had a (probably temporary) suppressive effect on my compulsive scribbling.
K's been back for...what, two weeks? Three? Something like that. I find myself spending several orders of magnitude less time on the computer and more time just agreeably hanging out or doing things I likely wouldn't on my own, such as browsing Old Town or visiting the Smithsonian Folklife Festival and discovering Bhutanese ema datshi, which is now going into regular rotation on our menu. (Anyone know where one can purchase yak cheese locally?)
Inarguably, I was spending too much time aimlessly surfing in a dark room when I was on my own, but I do recognize I'm now spending too much time fat and copacetic (K and I don't really do ecstatic, but it's amazing how...pleasant...pleasant can be), as well as neglecting both blog and what few local friends I've cultivated, so, in short: time to emerge from the cocoon.
This doesn't mean, incidentally, that K and I have actually settled anything. I'm a fan of the careful psychological study of one's own behavior -- a person can be his or her own best within-subjects design -- so I am, of course, treating our separation and (ambiguous) reconciliation in an A-B-A fashion. Unquestionably, A2 offers higher levels of subjective well-being than either A1 or B. Interestingly, with the relationship element isolated and analyzed, I suddenly find myself much less happy with my work situation. At A1, I think, my unhappiness was so overdetermined that the contribution of an ill-fitting career was fuzzy. Now, the relationship among variables is much more clear.
And, yes, yes, I know: I didn't actually control the factors during B that are resulting in a difference at A2; K did. And if he's implemented positive changes, can't those changes suddenly relapse? Sure. But for how many weeks does something have to persist before it's no longer regarded as temporary?
And, yes, yes, I know: B was five months. Mightn't I have been able to gather even more hedons if B were six months? A year? Perhaps. But, fr'eavens sake, how many does a person need? Especially if they'd like to be able to continue writing now and then?
For me, I think, writing is usually born out of a combination of (1) control-freakery (let me present you my world, as I see every little element, so that you can see things the way I see them, and, most importantly, see why I'm so obviously and self-evidently right...), which shades into (2), moral outrage.
The latter isn't quite misery -- as I get older, especially, I'm learning to sustain my wounded howl even as I ease into at least a moderate sense of general life satisfaction -- but the recent uptick in all-around contentment has certainly had a (probably temporary) suppressive effect on my compulsive scribbling.
K's been back for...what, two weeks? Three? Something like that. I find myself spending several orders of magnitude less time on the computer and more time just agreeably hanging out or doing things I likely wouldn't on my own, such as browsing Old Town or visiting the Smithsonian Folklife Festival and discovering Bhutanese ema datshi, which is now going into regular rotation on our menu. (Anyone know where one can purchase yak cheese locally?)
Inarguably, I was spending too much time aimlessly surfing in a dark room when I was on my own, but I do recognize I'm now spending too much time fat and copacetic (K and I don't really do ecstatic, but it's amazing how...pleasant...pleasant can be), as well as neglecting both blog and what few local friends I've cultivated, so, in short: time to emerge from the cocoon.
This doesn't mean, incidentally, that K and I have actually settled anything. I'm a fan of the careful psychological study of one's own behavior -- a person can be his or her own best within-subjects design -- so I am, of course, treating our separation and (ambiguous) reconciliation in an A-B-A fashion. Unquestionably, A2 offers higher levels of subjective well-being than either A1 or B. Interestingly, with the relationship element isolated and analyzed, I suddenly find myself much less happy with my work situation. At A1, I think, my unhappiness was so overdetermined that the contribution of an ill-fitting career was fuzzy. Now, the relationship among variables is much more clear.
And, yes, yes, I know: I didn't actually control the factors during B that are resulting in a difference at A2; K did. And if he's implemented positive changes, can't those changes suddenly relapse? Sure. But for how many weeks does something have to persist before it's no longer regarded as temporary?
And, yes, yes, I know: B was five months. Mightn't I have been able to gather even more hedons if B were six months? A year? Perhaps. But, fr'eavens sake, how many does a person need? Especially if they'd like to be able to continue writing now and then?
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