The Myth of The Tortured Artist

Suffering is not a prerequisite for making great art

If I'm not miserable, it means I'm not working hard enough.

That's the lie I've been telling myself for most of my life. It's a notion that got its hooks into me when I was a kid and it's only compounded over time. I wish this line of thinking had been relegated to school assignments and day jobs, but it eventually bled over into all of my creative projects as well. And that eventually led to an even worse conclusion:

Torturing myself was the only way to make something worthwhile.

Whether I was writing, making films, or playing in a band… my entire identity as an artist was attached to this false cause fallacy where the more I suffered, the better the end product would be.

As a result, the voice in my head became a hateful and rapacious bully. He taught me to wallow in disapproval and be wary (even superstitious) of gratification. There’s a razor-thin line between tough love and abuse. I stepped over it a long time ago and never looked back. No one will ever be crueler to me than I've been to myself.

We're told to treat others the way we'd like to be treated, but it took me way too long to realize that works both ways. We'll often grant everyone else so much more patience, grace, and understanding than we're willing to give to ourselves. And the thought of speaking to another person the way my inner voice speaks to me? Unimaginable.

But THAT. Right there. That's the key to learning how to push back against a brutish inner monologue. Take it one step further. You know what you wouldn't say to someone else. So, what would you say instead? What advice, support, or encouragement would you offer to a friend?

There was one night I was getting down on myself about something and I said to my wife, “I know what I’d tell someone else to do in this situation.” But even as I described the advice I would give, the implication was that I was somehow exempt from following it. The more objective and compassionate solution to the problem was obvious, but so was the understanding that it didn’t apply to me.

But… why?

Well, because. I had made suffering part of my identity. That’s what defined my creative process and validated the end result. Saying it out loud though? Acknowledging the gigantic chasm between the expectations I had of others and the impossible standards I was trying to hold myself to? That was the first time I had to admit how ridiculous the disparity had become.

So I decided to start practicing this exercise. Any time that inner voice was trying to pull me deeper into the darkness, I’d pretend I was dealing with a friend instead of myself. Here’s a recent example…

I’m working on the screenplay for a short film and I hit a point where my progress completely stalled. Day after day, the more I tried to fix it, the more I felt like I was breaking it. Here’s what I told myself: “You suck. Your ideas are shit. None of this works. You’re wasting your time. Just one more concept you got all excited about and then couldn’t execute.”

But what would I say to a friend who came to me with this same problem?

“Take a break. Step away from that project for a few days. Minimum. Clear your head. If you watch a movie, avoid the genre you’re working in. Better yet, immerse yourself in completely different mediums. Listen to more music. Read some poetry. Engage in other hobbies. Refill that creative reservoir with new sources of input. Then, when you return to that script with fresh eyes, see what shakes loose.”

That’s step one — just tagging those negative thoughts and reassessing them from a more compassionate vantage point. Step two is actually accepting that new interpretation. I’ll admit, that part has been more difficult. I can still feel myself trying to resist it. Especially when it comes to art.

It’s embarrassing, but that false cause fallacy about suffering being directly proportional to quality is so hard to let go of. Even though the whole tortured artist shtick is actually pretty gross, it continues to be romanticized and perpetuated. I’m obviously guilty of buying into it. But the truth is, it just excuses a lot of really abhorrent behavior. Self-inflicted and towards others. I think at this point, I would rather make art to purge pain, not legitimize it.

I know now that taking on too much… pushing myself too hard… that doesn’t make me a hero or a martyr. It makes me irresponsible. And, quite frankly, not a lot of fun to be around. Contrary to the narrative I’ve concocted, it’s also not how I do my best work. So I’m going to continue to try and break that connection.

I know this newsletter is primarily concerned with creativity, but I’ve been using this really simple thought experiment in every area of my life. Because there are a lot of decisions I make that do originate from a place of compassion and self-care, I just take them too far. I may not have found the ideal balance yet, but this is helping me get closer.

My inner voice is an asshole. This is like having a new, kinder roommate move in who sticks up for me and gives better advice.

“If your compassion does not include yourself, it is incomplete.” - Jack Kornfield

Take care, friends. Talk to you soon.