Taylor Jordan

Depression and Creative Writing: Chickens and Eggs

In our culture, the tortured author is a common trope. However, is it just a cultural trope

based on selective memory of our collective history or are depressive disorders a natural

byproduct of a creative writer’s mind? An overactive imagination can expand the perceived

significance of failures and threats, provoking an excessive emotional response. Such an

imagination can also idealize the conceived future in ways that are bound to result in

disappointment. Or is creativity an outcome of a depressive mind? Perhaps writing is a form of

escapism or dissociation in which depression can be numbed through an escape into fiction.

Writing has been used therapeutically to treat depression to some success. This paper will

examine why creative writing capacity and depression are linked and how depression and

creative writing interact in the human brain.

One symptom at the intersection of depression and creative writing is hypergraphia, the

compulsive drive to write. This symptom has been linked with bipolar disorder. Alice Flaherty, a

neurologist who suffered from hypergraphia herself, suggests that “most patients with

hypergraphia have mania and related states of agitation” (Flaherty). Her own case was brought

on during an intense episode of postpartum depression. Hypergraphia is a cultural term for an

extreme form of this impulse, but the compulsion to write should be understood to exist

somewhere on a spectrum, influenced the same way but to a lesser extent by less extreme

neurological characteristics. If abnormally intense manic episodes can result in an abnormally

intense creative writing drives, then we should expect the regular ups and downs of bipolar

disorder to create a similar, yet moderated effect. Although this neurotic impulse can apply to

other media of art, “the correlation between manic states and creativity is strongest for language‐
based fields” (Flaherty). Apparently, both involve the frontotemporal lobe. The cognitive aspect

of hypergraphia and its more moderate cousins will be discussed later. This correlation may also

have to do with the fact that “mania is characterized by an increase in energy, euphoria, high

self-esteem and even delusions of grandeur […] and initiation of projects that are patently

unrealistic;” projects like writing a 50,000-word novel in one month as I will soon attempt

(Wennegrat). These emotional highs and near-narcissism result, in my opinion, from an ability to

imagine oneself as greater and more capable than one is. This ego inflation may encourage an

individual to pursue creative projects that seem too daunting for neurotypicals. Whereas the clear

majority may consider certain endeavors out of reach, the manic individual may consider them to

be not only possible but necessary. Although this self-image is only a subjective phenomenon,

irrelevant on its own to writing skill, it may yield positive artistic results because of an increased

drive to practice and because “when high motivation increases the number of ideas produced, the

number of novel and useful ideas increases proportionately” (Flaherty). The lows of depression

result when this grandiose self-image is shattered, and a period of self-deprecation follows as an

attempt to balance the psyche. An abnormally amplified cycle of these highs and lows is

culturally defined as bipolar disorder by the DSM-V.

Since mania is associated with hypergraphia, and it can be inferred that this process takes

nondiagnosable lesser forms, what about depressive disorders that do not include manic

episodes? “According to the DSM-IV, major depression is characterized by depressed mood

most of the day, diminished interest or pleasure in usually enjoyable activities,” which should be

assumed to include recreational writing, as well as “impaired thinking or concentration,” all of

which seem like barriers to the writing process (Wennegrat). They are. Depressive symptoms

without accompanying manic symptoms are rare. Depression is usually characterized by a cycle
of pendulum-like overcorrections as the brain strives for homeostasis. “Although creative

subjects paradoxically more often have a history of depression than the average, their creative

work is [generally] not done during their depressions, but in rebound periods of increased energy

between depressions,” which points to a purely manic-depressive application of this theory

(Flaherty). There is not yet enough evidence to conclude that non-manic forms of depression

have the same relationship to creative writing that manic forms such as bipolar disorder do. It

seems that an above-normal drive to engage in creative writing only applies to depressions in

which the manic phase is present.

The adaptationist paradigm provides more evidence for the link between creative

language skills and manic forms of depression. David Dobbs characterized “the short SERT, the

7R DRD4 and the more plastic version of MAOA” as gene variants that code for higher

likelihood of depression, variants which “have spread into 20 to 50 per cent of the population”

within the last 80,000 years (Dobbs). This spread is clearly too quick to have happened by

genetic drift, especially if these gene variants have maladaptive properties. These variants must

be selected for to have experienced such a rapid increase in prevalence. However, “the plethora

of evidence for adverse fitness effects are inconsistent with depression being a true biological

adaptation,” so to explain the increased incidence of gene variants that increase the likelihood of

depressive disorders, we must assume that there are adaptive benefits coded for by the same gene

variants, and that depressive disorders are a byproduct of these adaptations (Wennegrat). If

linguistic creativity is the adaptation that these gene variants encode, then it makes sense that

depressive individuals are more likely to be creative writers. Enhanced creative writing ability

should be expected to apply to all linguistic forms of creativity, since most of human evolution

has taken place in prehistory. Although the advent of writing certainly expanded the usefulness
and thus advantageousness of linguistic creativity, “symbolic verbal communication underlies

most creative thought and its cultural transmission—and may have driven the evolutionary

increase in the size of the human brain” (Flaherty). The contradiction between the difficulties

caused by depression and the fact that it’s clearly been strongly selected for can best be

explained by the theory that depression is a byproduct of heightened imagination, especially in

the linguistic realm. The advantages of this imaginativity include resourcefulness, interpersonal

problem-solving, social navigation, and even the ability to attract mates with well-worded love

letters; historical man’s version of the mating call.

On the physiological side of the issue, depression is thought to be caused by imbalances

of neurotransmitters like serotonin and dopamine. It is partly genetic, as “a study published in

1996 that showed we have a greater risk of becoming depressed or anxious if we have a certain

version of a gene called SERT” (Dobbs). Environmental interaction also plays a role in the

development of the disorder. “A short SERT raised people's risk of depression only if they

suffered rough childhoods or episodes of intense stress as adults,” so the objection could be made

that creative writers are likely to be depressed not because of depression’s neurological

implications, but because rough childhoods make for more interesting stories and lived

experience is the best source of creative writing material (Dobbs). High quality of the literary

product is subjective and thus not the proposed variable being selected for, though. That variable

is the motivation to write extensively about anything. In cases of secure and comfortable

childhoods, the same gene variants that have been reductively labeled as risk-of-depression

genes can increase creative writing capacity. ‘Orchid children,’ as Dobbs calls them, tend to be

"highly sensitive persons" […] who are especially responsive not just to trouble but to many of

life's pleasures and subtleties,” so they too are likely to have an above-normal capacity for
literary production (Dobbs). This evidence does not contradict the point because I argue only that

the same genetic qualities that can cause depressive disorders – in this case, the short SERT –

have a primary quality of increasing the drive to write and the capacity for creative writing.

Another reason to support the theory that depression is an incidental result of creative

linguistic adaptations is their close relationship in neuropathology. Low latent inhibition happens

when the brain has too much dopamine, as it does during states of mania. It can overwhelm the

brain with stimuli, but “low latent inhibition is also characteristic of creative individuals with

high intelligence” (Flaherty). Manic states, therefore, are associated with non-hypergraphic

creative writing. This relationship is also apparent in reverse. “Dopamine antagonists […] are

notorious for their ability to suppress not only hallucinations and stereotypies but also the free

associations underlying creativity,” undermining the cross-modality that is necessary for creative

exercise (Flaherty). These drugs counteract mania, but also the linguistic creativity it facilitates.

For this to be possible, the mania itself must relate to creative language faculties.

Research shows that depression, specifically its manic forms, is related to creative writing

faculties. It is inconclusive whether depression is a maladaptive outcome of linguistic creativity

or such creativity is a byproduct of depression. The most balanced interpretation is that the two

are part of a feedback loop in which one provides the conditions for the other. Regardless, further

research into the interactions between linguistic creativity and manic forms of depression should

have applications for pharmaceutical treatments and especially writing-based forms of

psychotherapy. Perhaps dopamine antagonists deprive depressives of the adaptive upside of their

illness. Perhaps art therapy encourages the cognitive pathways that continue the cycle. Perhaps

our cultural concepts of illness do not accurately describe the process and the cycle should not be

broken for art’s sake. Finding these answers will take a lot more writing.
Works Cited:

Dobbs, David. “Are You an Orchid or a Dandelion?” New Scientist, vol. 213, no. 2849, 28 Jan.

2012, pp. 42–45., doi:10.1016/s0262-4079(12)60249-8.

Wennegrat, Brant. “32 Evolutionary Psychiatry: Mental Disorders and Behavioral

Evolution.” Human Evolutionary Biology, by Michael P. Muehlenbein, Cambridge University

Press, 2010.

Flaherty, Alice W. “Frontotemporal and Dopaminergic Control of Idea Generation and Creative

Drive.” Journal of Comparative Neurology, Wiley-Blackwell, 27 Oct. 2005,

onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1002/cne.20768.