2014 in retrospect

This year was very busy for me. I worked full time the whole year and I can definitely say this: Those of us who work along with pursuing our goals, whatever they may be, have extremely limited time. I completed my second novel, posted several articles to travel site 'Uncharted101.com', Started my third novel 'Homage to Baphomet', submitted a few of my works to 'Wattpad.com', and did my best stay productive. I'd say 2014 was generally positive. They say that progress is measured in inches, and that's exactly what I tried to accomplish. Inching my way to my life long goal. So, as always, I wonder what the next year brings about as far as writing is concerned. Because the novel I'm currently working on is going to be a little longer than my two previous ones, it might take me a little more time to accomplish it. So, hopefully 2015, like 2013 and 2014 before it, is also positive and productive.

Necessary suffering for writers?

One quick look at the history of accomplished writers will show you that a good number of them committed suicide. To someone like myself, that fact alone causes feelings of unease. If someone, such as Sylvia Plath for example, reaches the pinnacle for which all writers strive to achieve and has that coveted position hold no joy to them, it brings to mind the inquiry if such a place of achievement holds any joy at all, what-so-ever. I've often noticed that, while still living, the lives of many accomplished writers was anything but enjoyed by them. Many were plagued by depression and incurable sadness, regardless of any quirks their success brought to them. One has to simply wonder since, so many were affected in that way, is such a condition necessary to thrive in literature, regardless of genre. Its a question I cannot, myself, easily answer. If one doesn't possess within themselves a sort of inner conflict that continuously forces them to create and express, would they still still carry on as writers? Many great writers of the past were also afflicted by addiction, no doubt fueled by these same inner 'demons'. I suppose I will never know the answers to such questions. But, as trivial as it may sound, I find myself a degree thankful for their suffering. For if such instances did not occur, perhaps none of us would ever be graced by their creations and life itself would be far lesser without them.