When I was in school, I had this idea that all composers worth their salt were long time sufferers of what I like to think of as “Tortured Artist Syndrome.” Constantly depressed, melancholy, twisted with grief or anguish or whatever. I always think of Beethoven, wild-haired, composing furiously, wracked with passionate grief. Some of my friends thought that if they developed the syndrome they’d become better artists, but it didn’t seem to work that way. Although to be honest, they did look mighty artistic.

I used to think this was complete and total crap, but I’ve since found something to it. I’ve done some of my best work when I’ve been depressed, irritated or angry. Pettiness works too; when I’ve been up against the wall and wanting to prove something, I’ve reached into some well of inspiration and come up with the goods.

But not always. The bigger picture is that creativity flows from some sort of stimulus — love, happiness, understanding, novelty. Tortured Artists do it with pain, and while some folks are generally stuck in crappy situations, a lot seek out torment because it gives them stimulus they crave; people cut themselves for the same reason. But there are all sorts of ways to get that creative seed that don’t involve beating one’s self up or being self destructive. One’s muse doesn’t have to be a domestic abuser.