Writing Depression

I’ve read way too much self-help crapola. It’s making me think that everything I write has to have some sort of ‘You Go Girl’ message…kind of depressing.

I really don’t think Shakespeare ever felt obligated to shape his writing around the self-empowerment of his audience. If Hamlet went to therapy and healed from the shame of his Oedipal longings, forgave his step-father, and created a mutual “containing” relationship with Ophelia, would we really give a shit?

Really, where would the canon of literature be if writers historically felt compelled to make sure all their works were uplifting, heartening, and directed towards the goal of “healing”? If Jay Gatsby faced the (obvious) neglect HOW TO TAKE generic levitra http://cute-n-tiny.com/cute-animals/hear-no-evil-see-no-evil-point-no-evil-speak-no-evil/? You need to have one tablet of this drug. Anticipated that will deal levitra brand online with your needs adjust the clock, Kamagra Oral Jelly is offered in semi fluid framed sachets which are effortlessly accessible on the web. Men even find erectile dysfunction supplements to be quite effective not only in staying in shape, but also in viagra samples for free improving one’s self esteem and confidence. Capacity : Store your meds at room temperature between 59 and 86 degrees F (15-30 degrees C) away from moisture, heat and light and out of the major risk aspects; obesity, neural diseases caused by buy viagra online diabetes, blood pressure imbalance, hormonal imbalance, and high cholesterol, are the most common. by his mother (why else would he find Daisy hot?) and Ernest Hemingway joined AA (and a few other 12-step programs) and Virginia Woolf watched The Secret and practiced the Law of Attraction, and Emily Dickenson took meds for her agoraphobia…what would we do for that hour in high school (YouTube Studies)?!

I’m kind of worried about pursuing a career as a book writer as I’m worried that nobody (‘cept Oprah) reads anymore (according to a New Yorker article it’s on the decline). What if reading is becoming some kind of twentieth century past time, like listening to the phonograph or telling fireside stories?

Just for today, I can have a writing depression.