What, do you think, is the common denominator between artists? What is the one thing that links us all together into one solitary whole being? My mind tells me that it's moodiness. Artists are moody. We weave ourselves in and out of moods, dragging along unwittingly those poor souls closest to us. We plod through the mud of despair, we flit on the clouds of glee, we weep the tears of the world's heartbreaks- all in one day.
You will note that I am currently working on the sixtieth page of my novel. I have been for seven days. I've been so utterly depressed this week. I've trudged along through the string of days uninspired and hopeless. A stark contrast to my mood of last week in which I wrote sixty pages and where I informed everyone I encountered that, "I am so Zen."
A slightly silver lining tells me that I am suffering so that I will know my characters. Every thought I have links itself in some way to Lily and J.R. I know them better for my moods.
I guess the moodiness is necessary, a suffering for our art. Art is not free. It comes with a significant pricetag.
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