I no longer recall the exact details of this story -
maybe someone else does? - but I'm pretty sure it is
true. There was a German writer, I think a
playwright, around late 18th or early 19th century,
and he wasn't having much success. He came to the
conclusion that this was because he hadn't enough
trauma in his life - happy marriage, no health or
money problems - and needed more suffering to create
art out of. He shared this conclusion with his wife
(and though I can never recall his name, hers was
Caroline.) She promptly went off to the study and shot
herself, leaving him a note to say she'd done it for
the sake of his art. And the payoff, of course, was
that he was just as much a crap writer afterwards as
before.
Sheenagh Pugh
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