>Tolstoy: Thought about suicide all the time. Ran away from his wife aged 82. >Proust: Asthmatic, germophobic loner mama’s boy homosexual. >Dickens: Bipolar insomniac who was afraid of bats. Said his characters introduced themselves to him in his sleep. >Dostoevsky: Epileptic, borderline personality disorder, gambling addiction, scared of being buried alive. >Gustave Flaubert: Pessimistic butthole, hated everyone and everything, FRANKED a young Turkroach boy >Joseph Conrad: Miserable pollack, tried to kill himself with a gun >Kafka: Nervous israelite, cringey irl, totally fricked in the head. >Horace: Depressed >Chaucer: Aggressive c**t, charged with beating a friar in London, and with rape in 1380 >Boccaccio: Failed at fricking – turned full-blown woman-hater >Li Bai: Drunken chink who drowned to death trying to grab the moon’s reflection in the water from his boat >François Villon: Murdered a priest, assaulted others, was a burglar who ended up banished like the homosexual he was >Montaigne: Hid in a tower for 10 years >Torquato Tasso: Persecution mania, went insane, committed to asylum for 7 years >Jonathan Swift: Gloomy bastard, misanthrope, said he only laughed twice in his entire life, didn’t speak to anyone for a whole year, went mad in 1742. >Voltaire: Chronically constipated frog, drank 50 cups of tea a day, spent 16 hours a day in bed writing. >Samuel Johnson: Monstrously cantankerous fricker, Tourette syndrome, rude manners >Jean Jacques Rousseau: Admitted to being an exhibitionist >S.T. Coleridge: Drug-addict >Byron: Sex-maniac, even fricked his half-sister >John Keats: Sad motherfricker, attempted suicide >Balzac: Crazy bastard, glutton, lived life in dressing gown >Hans C. Andersen: Wimpy crybaby hypochondriac >Edgar Allan Poe: Depressed, alcoholic drug addict who married a 13 yo >Gogol: Went insane >Nabokov: Paedophile narcissist >Euripides: Recluse, misanthrope, hated women >Virgil: Weakling manlet, once held a lavish funeral for a pet fly. Died after being in the sun a bit. >Herman Melville: Had a mental breakdown in 1855 >Charles Baudelaire: Sexual deviant, depressed, drug addict >Emily Dickinson: Agoraphobic >Lewis Carroll: Pedo >Mark Twain: Bitter fricker, smoked up to 40 cigars a day >Maxim Gorky: Bitter fricker 2.0, attempted suicide >James Joyce: Awkward bastard, phobias of thunder, firearms (homosexual) and dogs >F. Scott Fitzgerald: Tiny dick couldn’t satisfy Zelda, alcoholic, attempted suicide via morphine overdose >Samuel Beckett: Bitter fricker, recluse – didn’t even leave house to get Nobel Prize >Tennessee Williams: Drunkard >Dylan Thomas: Drunkard
Yes, art is built on suffering
Happyness is synonimous to complacency, if you are happy you have no need to think even if you are smart.
You have nothing to cope about, nothing to rationalize, nothing to sperg out at.
I think it's more that eccentric or non-typical people make better writers, whether that be for better or worse. I have read a lot of writers who were happy or at least not miserable amd they wrote good stories.
.
"Happiness writes in white ink on a white page"
idk but it seems like it. I can't imagine anybody living a happy life would ever choose to be a writer.
>Tolstoy: Thought about suicide all the time. Ran away from his wife aged 82.
>Proust: Asthmatic, germophobic loner mama’s boy homosexual.
>Dickens: Bipolar insomniac who was afraid of bats. Said his characters introduced themselves to him in his sleep.
>Dostoevsky: Epileptic, borderline personality disorder, gambling addiction, scared of being buried alive.
>Gustave Flaubert: Pessimistic butthole, hated everyone and everything, FRANKED a young Turkroach boy
>Joseph Conrad: Miserable pollack, tried to kill himself with a gun
>Kafka: Nervous israelite, cringey irl, totally fricked in the head.
>Horace: Depressed
>Chaucer: Aggressive c**t, charged with beating a friar in London, and with rape in 1380
>Boccaccio: Failed at fricking – turned full-blown woman-hater
>Li Bai: Drunken chink who drowned to death trying to grab the moon’s reflection in the water from his boat
>François Villon: Murdered a priest, assaulted others, was a burglar who ended up banished like the homosexual he was
>Montaigne: Hid in a tower for 10 years
>Torquato Tasso: Persecution mania, went insane, committed to asylum for 7 years
>Jonathan Swift: Gloomy bastard, misanthrope, said he only laughed twice in his entire life, didn’t speak to anyone for a whole year, went mad in 1742.
>Voltaire: Chronically constipated frog, drank 50 cups of tea a day, spent 16 hours a day in bed writing.
>Samuel Johnson: Monstrously cantankerous fricker, Tourette syndrome, rude manners
>Jean Jacques Rousseau: Admitted to being an exhibitionist
>S.T. Coleridge: Drug-addict
>Byron: Sex-maniac, even fricked his half-sister
>John Keats: Sad motherfricker, attempted suicide
>Balzac: Crazy bastard, glutton, lived life in dressing gown
>Hans C. Andersen: Wimpy crybaby hypochondriac
>Edgar Allan Poe: Depressed, alcoholic drug addict who married a 13 yo
>Gogol: Went insane
>Nabokov: Paedophile narcissist
>Euripides: Recluse, misanthrope, hated women
>Virgil: Weakling manlet, once held a lavish funeral for a pet fly. Died after being in the sun a bit.
>Herman Melville: Had a mental breakdown in 1855
>Charles Baudelaire: Sexual deviant, depressed, drug addict
>Emily Dickinson: Agoraphobic
>Lewis Carroll: Pedo
>Mark Twain: Bitter fricker, smoked up to 40 cigars a day
>Maxim Gorky: Bitter fricker 2.0, attempted suicide
>James Joyce: Awkward bastard, phobias of thunder, firearms (homosexual) and dogs
>F. Scott Fitzgerald: Tiny dick couldn’t satisfy Zelda, alcoholic, attempted suicide via morphine overdose
>Samuel Beckett: Bitter fricker, recluse – didn’t even leave house to get Nobel Prize
>Tennessee Williams: Drunkard
>Dylan Thomas: Drunkard
good post
Suprised you din't mention Joyce's cloacal fascination
Beckett: Bitter fricker, recluse – didn’t even leave house to get Nobel Prize
What a based chad. I really look up to him.
Happy people often can't understand suffering so they can't write very different characters.
No, but emotional people do.
Fiction is a method to induce emotions in the reader.
Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way
>I'm le unique snowflake
Yes.
Yes, art is built on suffering
Happyness is synonimous to complacency, if you are happy you have no need to think even if you are smart.
You have nothing to cope about, nothing to rationalize, nothing to sperg out at.
Sometimes
>e.g. James Branch Cabell
Sometimes not
>e.g. Ernest Hemingway
Depends on whether they want to escape the misery or wallow in it.
i want to write happy, frivolous things but i'm too miserable. even when i feel fine, my worldview is still that of a miserable bastard.
Junji Ito is a pretty normal guy and he's still hailed as one of the best horror creators as of late
I think it's more that eccentric or non-typical people make better writers, whether that be for better or worse. I have read a lot of writers who were happy or at least not miserable amd they wrote good stories.
.
People who are content have no motivation to improve and nothing compelling to say.