Being a creative genius must be like… operating on a higher plane (if it wasn’t startlingly obvious already, I definitely don’t consider myself to be any kind of prodigy operating under any sense of that word. I mean, you can totally tell I’m not, like, Shakespeare or whatever). They waltz through life, unhindered by the pedestrian clutter that we mortals are plagued by.
This is most likely the basis of your opinion if you’ve allowed yourself to be carried away by the sheer emotive power of the art and not paid the merest lick of attention to the realities of their lives. When you think about it, a lot of their time was taken up with some surprisingly human diversions rather than basking in that gloriously heaven sent inspiration you hear so much about nowadays.
Then again, maybe if you wallowed in the more hedonistic aspects of the day to day life of a normal human you’d be driven to create something that generations down the line will be captivated by. Have an affair or six or perhaps start your very own destructive addiction be it to booze, prescription pills, pornography or a mind bending cocktail of illegal drugs. Maybe you’ll even indulge in a round of religion, who knows what will come to you while you’re on your knees (that an unfortunate supposition with the juxtaposition of that previous sentence)?
Even if you don’t write a poem that melts the heart of every reader, or paint something otherworldly in its loveliness, or compose a piece of music that makes people want to vomit rainbows or whatever (yeah, you can see why I’m not considered a creative genius, yet. I lied earlier), you can use the endeavour as an excuse for terrible behaviour. How delicious. See if you can get away with a murder for the sake of the short film you’re researching.
Song choices courtesy of: Greg Edmondson, Take That and Monty Python