“How can someone who brought so much laughter to everyone be so depressed?”

I heard this from one of the people I work with, and I had to do a double take.  How could she not know?  The more you try to make people laugh, the more depressed you actually are.

I know this from experience.

Most writers find it a lonely experience, something that they have to do alone, single-handedly, weaving words into pictures.  They take the images in their minds and try to put them to paper, so that the rest of the world can see how beautiful it is.  Sometimes the rest of the world doesn’t care.

That’s when we get depressed.

I have staved off depression by not sending my items in, by “polishing” everything up again, by rewriting from almost scratch.  I tossed out 10K words because I realized that I wasn’t starting in media res.  That’s where I like to start.  Exposition will come with time, and forcing myself to write the required 800 words a day has brought me new practice and insight in exposition.  I used to just do dialogue.  Now, I need to fill in the space.

I am a little depressed about Robin Williams.  He was a great actor, great talent, always funny.  But deep down was the black dog.  All comedians have one; it’s what makes them so funny.  They talk about how drunk they were when they did something, how high, how dysfunctional their family was, how dysfunctional THEY were – all dark and sticky stuff, when brought to light, scares us into laughter.

Writers need to do this too.  Writers need to get the dark and sticky stuff and throw it onto the page.  I’m on meds, and I can’t think the dark and evil thoughts I used to.  I cringe from horror now.  My demons are pretty, cute, handsome, and sexy.

May he rest in peace, though I doubt it, because a lot of people will be trying to get a hold of him to make them laugh again.