Artists in general – writers, musicians, what have you – have a reputation for being anything from eccentric to anti-social, or even quietly psychotic. (What I mean by “quietly psychotic” is, for one example, a horror writer who would never engage in the deeds he or she writes, yet nonetheless takes a private thrill from imagining it.) I’ve often wondered where Poe would’ve been without writing. At the end of his life, he was overcome with grief for his mother and for his wife (his mother died when he was younger, but he never got over it), he was penniless, and he was a drunkard. Well, more or less. And I feel the answer to my question is somewhere in that.

It’s no secret that writers can be weird people. Especially fiction writers. By definition (and, perhaps more so, by convention) sitting alone for hours scribbling or typing words with only your emotions, thoughts and maybe some music for company isn’t natural activity.

But it’s here that I challenge conventional wisdom and popular belief. I mean, how do you define what’s natural in the first place? What’s natural for one isn’t for another. And for the writer, sitting alone trying to form cohesion and sense out of the chaotic world of brain and heart is very natural.

I’ve been accused of being anti-social (among other things) because of the time I spend writing and reading and because of some of the things I write. But it’s not true. I may be a little nuts (and, going by conventional wisdom, most artists are), but I’m not anti-social. I have a need, as prevalent and as strong as my need to breathe, so isn’t it natural to satisfy that need? Or to at least try to come to terms with it?

A musician may spend time in a band. And it may be social and fun, considering they get along – too often, bands don’t; believe me. But still, that musician will spend hours alone with his or her instrument, if it’s really in their blood. If it’s not, we have someone who only picks it up for lessons, rehearsal, or a show.

Whether I succeed in publishing or not, I will always write. And though I’ve pretty much retired from the music business, I’ll always play, at least here and there. Because it’s in my blood to do so. This is true of any artist. Art happens between you and your creativity; the business side of it has little to do with the art itself.

So many spend extreme amounts of money to “stay sane.” I’ve seen kids that took all sorts of medication for hyperactivity. Though I’m not a doctor, I noticed something missing in their lives: a creative outlet. I believe there are times when medication is needed; but in the cases I’ve seen, it was obvious that these kids had no outlet through which to express themselves. I thought that, rather than being basically sedated, their creativity should be explored and encouraged. You never know what kid might be the next great author or filmmaker.

The general population spends time and money trying to rid themselves of the mental state which writers and other artists need to cultivate. Some talented people I’ve known actually avoided any creative time; they spent it at bars and clubs, socializing. It makes me wonder if there’s a fear of being alone with oneself, of facing your thoughts and feelings, which is exactly what an honest artist must do. Lord knows I have that fear, and I’m not too proud to admit it.

I don’t believe one can be ordinary and artistic. I’ve tried; I’ve known others who have tried. I don’t think it’s possible to be both. And that’s the crux of the matter, not to mention one of the burdens carried – on both sides. I hate to draw a line like that, but it’s the only way I know how to present it clearly. The crux, the burden, is that ordinary people cannot understand artistic people, at least not fully. Likewise, artists can’t fully understand those who aren’t artists.

Instead of deriding each other or letting such a difference threaten friendships or even a marriage (I’ve seen it happen), maybe we should just accept things as they are. I once expected everyone, including “ordinary” friends to read between the lines I wrote and to find something meaningful to them, perhaps something that was there of which I was unaware. And they, in turn, expected me to act and speak like an “ordinary” person. I’ve learned the hard way it just won’t work.

Artists should be respected (yeah, I’m biased, but isn’t everyone in some way?). Without artists, there would be no books, no paintings, no music, no films, and so on. Yet ordinary people deserve respect, instead of being called “simpleminded” or some such. For it’s the ordinary ones that ultimately determine which artists have a good career, if they have one at all.

And if someone doesn’t quiet “get” it, yet they do genuinely enjoy it, that’s really all an artist can ask for. Sooner or later, provided you don’t give up, someone will get it.