Mental Health and Writing

Some thoughts, following on from World Mental Health Day, and from a conversation that sparked up, quite spontaneously, with a fellow author a few weeks ago…

Children of Artifice was written over one of the worst times of my life. I was struggling to sell my house, and having a nightmare with the associated paperwork. I was unsure where Isaac and I were going to go, and had (quite genuinely) no idea if we have enough money to actually put a roof over our heads, or whether we would have to resort to Social housing (what there is left of it), or leave London completely. At the same time, I was dealing with the long illness and then the death of my Mother, and then with another horrific mess of tangled paperwork.

At times, the whole thing felt like some bloody Quest – and I looked forwards to the day I defeated the Final Boss, and could be in my very own kitchen, safe and free from worry.

That day finally happened three years ago, but the journey really threw something into the light.

Artifice – Caph and Proteus and their unfolding – kept me sane. It was where I went to escape, to pull the covers of another reality over my head, and to escape the darkness of the world around me. Much of my relationship with my Mother, and how I felt about her death, poured itself into the book – I think it’s one of the reasons why it’s as emotional, and as intense, as it is. And when it was done, I was absolutely drained – my tanks were empty and I had no creativity left.

But it was there for me. All the way through.

And Ecko – particularly the first two books – were very much the same thing. Ecko’s savagery and rage were a reflection of the helplessness I was feeling at the time, and how angry it made me. It was an outlet, a release – not only the place I could bury my head and leave everything else behind, but it was hugely cathartic and I can’t describe how much it helped.

It’s not just about being an author. You may be an artist, or an actor. You may pour yourself into your crafting, or your music. And it doesn’t matter if you make the thing for yourself, for your friends, or for a worldwide audience – it’s still your panacea. Whatever that chosen form of expression, it’s the release valve we all need – the thing that will be there for us, that can take all of the darkness that we loose into it, and turn it into something miraculous.

When it comes to your art, it’s good to let the madness loose.

And that’s pretty cool!