I wrote a post about writers and depression over at Babble. Here's an excerpt:
There has long been this notion that in order to be a writer or artist, you should also be an emotional car wreck. That–whether you struggle with addiction, depression, anxiety, psychosis, or a heady mélange of all of the above–your demons are somehow part and parcel of your identity as an Artist. With this in mind, too many talented writers and artists have gone and drank themselves to death or allowed their illnesses free reign, because it was more important to serve the Muse than live a rich, full, happy life, and there was certainly no way to do both.
This is a steaming pile of horseshit.
Come on over and tell me what you think, won't you? Thank you, I love you, more soon when I'm done wrapping these eleventy billion gifts.