“He soon perceived, however, that the battles which Sir Miles and the rest waged against armed knights to win a kingdom, were not half so arduous as this which he now undertook to win immortality against the English language. Anyone moderately familiar with the rigours of composition will not need to be told the story in detail; how he wrote and it seemed good; read it and seemed vile; corrected and tore up; cut out; put in; was in ecstasy; in despair; had his good nights and bad mornings; snatched at ideas and lost them; saw his book plain before him and it vanished; acted his people’s parts as he ate; mouthed them as he walked; now cried; now laughed; vacillated between this style and that; now preferred the heroic and pompous; next the plain and simple; now the vales of Temple; then the fields of Kent or Cornwall; and could not decide whether he has the divinest genius or the greatest fool in the world.”
by Virginia Woolf in Orlando
See? After all of this it becomes almost impossible to imagine an artist without him being neurotic. Welcome home.
“Ps: there’s a life vest under your seat.”