It's usually a big kind of vent of frustration or anger or
It's usually a big kind of vent of frustration or anger or sadness that puts me in the right frame of mind to write. It's such a cliche to say that artists write when they're down, but it's true for me. It's a relief to get out what's eating away at my heart or my soul or my head.
Host: The room was bathed in the soft glow of evening, the fading light of the day casting gentle reflections on the walls. The world outside seemed to slow down, the hum of distant traffic softened by the stillness inside. Jack sat at the table, his pen hovering over the page, but his focus far from his writing. Jeeny stood near the window, her fingers lightly pressed against the glass, lost in thought. The quote Jack had just read from Ellie Goulding hung in the air between them, a reflection on how emotion drives creativity.
Jeeny: “I’ve been thinking about what Ellie Goulding said: ‘It’s usually a big kind of vent of frustration or anger or sadness that puts me in the right frame of mind to write. It’s such a cliché to say that artists write when they’re down, but it’s true for me. It’s a relief to get out what’s eating away at my heart or my soul or my head.’ There’s something deeply raw in that, don’t you think? The idea that creativity often comes from the place of emotional turmoil.”
Jack: “It is interesting. People often talk about creativity being linked to emotions, but the way Goulding describes it—the idea that she needs to feel some kind of frustration, anger, or sadness to get into the right frame of mind to create—it’s almost like those emotions are the key to unlocking something deeper inside. It’s almost as if the pain or the negative feelings are the fuel for her creativity.”
Jeeny: “Yeah, it’s almost like those emotions are a release valve. When we feel something deeply, whether it’s frustration, sadness, or even anger, there’s this need to let it out. And for artists, writing or creating becomes a way to do that—by externalizing what’s eating away at them. It’s a way to process and understand those feelings. Goulding is admitting that her creativity isn’t just about inspiration—it’s about needing to express what’s inside, even if it’s difficult.”
Host: The room felt quieter now, the air thick with the weight of their conversation. Jack’s gaze was distant, as if the idea of creativity and emotion had unlocked a deeper layer of thought. His fingers rested still on the table, a subtle acknowledgment that something had clicked in his mind.
Jack: “But isn’t there a kind of catharsis in that? The fact that frustration and anger can fuel creativity? Maybe it’s not just about using those feelings to create—it’s about understanding them, releasing them in a productive way. It’s like a way of processing emotions through art. Maybe that’s why artists feel the need to create when they’re down—it’s not just for the sake of creating; it’s for the sake of healing.”
Jeeny: “Yes, exactly. When we create, we externalize what’s inside, and by doing so, we give it form. We turn something chaotic and painful into something that can be understood, something we can control. Goulding says it’s a relief to get it out. And I think that’s the power of art—the ability to transform emotional pain into something beautiful, something visible, something that makes sense.”
Jack: “It’s fascinating, isn’t it? That creativity doesn’t always come from a place of calm or clarity, but often from the messiest, most chaotic feelings. It’s almost like artists embrace the storm inside them to create something that can then bring them peace. It’s as if their art becomes a way to make sense of what’s overwhelming them.”
Jeeny: “Exactly. And maybe that’s why we find so much meaning in the art that comes from those raw, vulnerable places. When we see an artist’s pain or frustration reflected in their work, it’s like we’re witnessing their journey of turning that chaos into clarity. Goulding is showing us that creativity isn’t about waiting for the perfect moment of inspiration—it’s about using the emotions you have, especially the uncomfortable ones, to create something that feels authentic.”
Host: The quiet in the room deepened, as if the very nature of their conversation had created a space for reflection. Jack leaned back in his chair, his fingers now resting lightly on the armrest, while Jeeny’s eyes turned inward, absorbing the layers of meaning that had unfolded between them.
Jack: “I think I understand now. It’s not just about the product of creativity—it’s about the process, the act of taking those emotions and giving them a voice. For Goulding, and for many artists, it’s about finding peace in the chaos of their feelings, not through avoidance, but through expression.”
Jeeny: “Yes. And it’s not just about the relief of getting it out—it’s about transforming those feelings into something tangible. By doing that, the artist not only creates something that others can relate to, but also begins the process of healing themselves. That’s the power of art—it turns emotional pain into something that can be understood, experienced, and even shared.”
Host: The air in the room felt lighter now, the conversation having opened a deeper understanding of creativity and its connection to our emotions. The idea that frustration, sadness, and anger aren’t just obstacles to creativity, but gateways to expression, seemed to shift something within them both. The room, though quiet, felt filled with possibility—the realization that even in our darkest moments, there is the potential for transformation, for creation, for healing.
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