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Psicoanálisis del escritor
The imaginative writer has been viewed from many and varied aspects: as a mouthpiece of higher powers; as "satisfier" of repressed and forbidden desires; as "crazy," eccentric, and egocentric, among others. But the idea of viewing him in his battle of the conscious as a defendant forever going through the motions of defending himself against unconscious accusations is, to say the least, novel.
. . .
Why do people want to write? All statements to the contrary, no "real" writer writes because of conscious palpable reasons. Since the writer himself is ignorant of his unconscious conflicts, which push him into writing, he is incapable of answering the question of what "made him write."
. . .
That which is formed within the artist is produced by unconscious tendencies, is not the product of consciousness. The writer's pen is guided by subterranean forces. The more understanding writers have often gives expression to this fact and have described the creative act as being composed of two phases: the appearance of the ideas which "something" within them has brought into being, and the working out of these ideas. The former, whatever it be called―inspiration, intuition, the favor of God―infuses the artist and appears independent of any voluntary act. The second phase consists of work, often hard work, to form and develop the material received from unconscious sources; experience, tact, great technical skill are necessary in this phase. Since the artist has no control at all over his primary creative activity, he is powerless to explain himself from the very start. He may attempt a description of the conditions in which he was surprised by his inspiration, or he may describe the second phase, the process of working out the material. In short, the artist can offer us a great deal, but he cannot offer us an explanation for his own creative processes.
. . .
Nietzche describes the act of artistic creation similarly in his Ecce Homo.
. . . Has any one at the end of the nineteenth century any distinct notion of what poets of a stronger age understood by the word inspiration? If not, I will describe it. If one had the smallest vestige of superstition left in one, it would hardly be possible completely to set aside the idea that one is the mere incarnation, mouthpiece, or medium of an almighty power. The idea of revelation, in the sense that something which profoundly convulses and upsets one becomes suddenly visible and audible with indescribable certainty and accuracy―describes the simple fact. One hears―one does not seek; one takes―one does not ask who gives. A thought suddenly flashes up like lightening; it comes with necessity, without faltering. I have never had any choice in the matter. There is an ecstasy so great that the immense strain of it is sometimes relaxed by a flood of tears, during which one's steps now involuntarily rush and anon involuntarily lag. There is the feeling that one is utterly out of hand, with the very distinct consciousness of an endless number of fine thrills and titillations descending to one's very toes. There is a depth of happiness in which the most painful and gloomy parts do not act as antitheses to the rest, but are produced and required as necessary shades of color in such an overflow of light. There is an instinct of rhythmic relations which embraces a whole world of forms (length, the need of a wide-embracing rhythm, is almost the measure of the force of an inspiration, a sort of counterpart to its pressure and tension). Everything happens quite involuntary, as if in a tempestuous outburst of freedom, of absoluteness, of power and divinity. The involuntary nature of the figures and similes is the most remarkable thing; everything seems to present itself as the readiest, the truest, and simplest means of expression. It actually seems, to use one of Zarathustra's own phrases, as if all things came to one, and offered themselves as similes. . . .
. . .
Why do people want to write? All statements to the contrary, no "real" writer writes because of conscious palpable reasons. Since the writer himself is ignorant of his unconscious conflicts, which push him into writing, he is incapable of answering the question of what "made him write."
. . .
That which is formed within the artist is produced by unconscious tendencies, is not the product of consciousness. The writer's pen is guided by subterranean forces. The more understanding writers have often gives expression to this fact and have described the creative act as being composed of two phases: the appearance of the ideas which "something" within them has brought into being, and the working out of these ideas. The former, whatever it be called―inspiration, intuition, the favor of God―infuses the artist and appears independent of any voluntary act. The second phase consists of work, often hard work, to form and develop the material received from unconscious sources; experience, tact, great technical skill are necessary in this phase. Since the artist has no control at all over his primary creative activity, he is powerless to explain himself from the very start. He may attempt a description of the conditions in which he was surprised by his inspiration, or he may describe the second phase, the process of working out the material. In short, the artist can offer us a great deal, but he cannot offer us an explanation for his own creative processes.
. . .
Nietzche describes the act of artistic creation similarly in his Ecce Homo.
. . . Has any one at the end of the nineteenth century any distinct notion of what poets of a stronger age understood by the word inspiration? If not, I will describe it. If one had the smallest vestige of superstition left in one, it would hardly be possible completely to set aside the idea that one is the mere incarnation, mouthpiece, or medium of an almighty power. The idea of revelation, in the sense that something which profoundly convulses and upsets one becomes suddenly visible and audible with indescribable certainty and accuracy―describes the simple fact. One hears―one does not seek; one takes―one does not ask who gives. A thought suddenly flashes up like lightening; it comes with necessity, without faltering. I have never had any choice in the matter. There is an ecstasy so great that the immense strain of it is sometimes relaxed by a flood of tears, during which one's steps now involuntarily rush and anon involuntarily lag. There is the feeling that one is utterly out of hand, with the very distinct consciousness of an endless number of fine thrills and titillations descending to one's very toes. There is a depth of happiness in which the most painful and gloomy parts do not act as antitheses to the rest, but are produced and required as necessary shades of color in such an overflow of light. There is an instinct of rhythmic relations which embraces a whole world of forms (length, the need of a wide-embracing rhythm, is almost the measure of the force of an inspiration, a sort of counterpart to its pressure and tension). Everything happens quite involuntary, as if in a tempestuous outburst of freedom, of absoluteness, of power and divinity. The involuntary nature of the figures and similes is the most remarkable thing; everything seems to present itself as the readiest, the truest, and simplest means of expression. It actually seems, to use one of Zarathustra's own phrases, as if all things came to one, and offered themselves as similes. . . .
- GenresPsychology
286 pages, Paperback
First published February 1, 1992
2 people are currently reading
90 people want to read
About the author
Edmund Bergler
62 books16 followersEdmund Bergler (1899 - 1962), an Austrian Jew, fled the Nazis in 1937-38 to live and practice in New York City. He wrote 25 psychology books along with 273 articles that were published in leading professional journals.
Bergler's contribution to psychoanalytic thought was remarkable. Delos Smith, science editor of United Press International, said Bergler was "among the most prolific Freudian theoreticians after Freud himself."
He extended and made clinically usable several of Freud's later concepts, including
superego cruelty, unconscious masochism, and the importance of the pre-oedipal oral mother-attachment.
Hitschmann spoke of his "extraordinary talent for the specialty of psychoanalysis . . . his command of the entire subject matter, his scientific acumen and literary erudition." Considered "one of the few original minds among the followers of Freud," Bergler presented his main ideas in The Basic Neurosis, in which he summarized his massive original contribution to the field.
Throughout his considerable body of written work, lucid case summaries in each book reveal clinical brilliance and a highly effective analytic technique. His own writing, as well as productive collaborations with Jekels, Eidelberg, Winterstein, and Hitschmann,
included works on theory and technique.
Bergler was Freud’s assistant director at the Vienna clinic in the 1930s, and is among the first generation of psychoanalyists after Freud. The centerpiece of Freudian psychoanalysis was initially the Oedipus complex; but Bergler notes that, over time, Freud began to realize how important the pre-Oedipal phase was in human development- particularly the earliest- oral- phase.
Unfortunately, many of Freud’s (and Bergler’s) predecessors have not followed
their lead: (p. 57)* “One sometimes has the impression that some colleagues treat everything ‘beyond Oedipus and the libido’ as unwelcome and bothersome intruders.” and (p. 62): “Prevailing analytic opinion failed to accept that substructure de facto and relegated pre-oedipality to a footnote.” Bergler certainly didn’t. On the contrary, the pre-Oedipal phase was the central feature of his work. In this essay, we will attempt to outline why he considered the pre-Oedipal to be so important.
"Bergler, Edmund (1899-1962)." International Dictionary of Psychoanalysis. . Retrieved July 23, 2018 from Encyclopedia.com: http://www.encyclopedia.com/psycholog...
* Almost all material included (with the exception of the Appendix) are quotes from Bergler's "Curable and Incurable Neurotics" (1961).
Bergler's contribution to psychoanalytic thought was remarkable. Delos Smith, science editor of United Press International, said Bergler was "among the most prolific Freudian theoreticians after Freud himself."
He extended and made clinically usable several of Freud's later concepts, including
superego cruelty, unconscious masochism, and the importance of the pre-oedipal oral mother-attachment.
Hitschmann spoke of his "extraordinary talent for the specialty of psychoanalysis . . . his command of the entire subject matter, his scientific acumen and literary erudition." Considered "one of the few original minds among the followers of Freud," Bergler presented his main ideas in The Basic Neurosis, in which he summarized his massive original contribution to the field.
Throughout his considerable body of written work, lucid case summaries in each book reveal clinical brilliance and a highly effective analytic technique. His own writing, as well as productive collaborations with Jekels, Eidelberg, Winterstein, and Hitschmann,
included works on theory and technique.
Bergler was Freud’s assistant director at the Vienna clinic in the 1930s, and is among the first generation of psychoanalyists after Freud. The centerpiece of Freudian psychoanalysis was initially the Oedipus complex; but Bergler notes that, over time, Freud began to realize how important the pre-Oedipal phase was in human development- particularly the earliest- oral- phase.
Unfortunately, many of Freud’s (and Bergler’s) predecessors have not followed
their lead: (p. 57)* “One sometimes has the impression that some colleagues treat everything ‘beyond Oedipus and the libido’ as unwelcome and bothersome intruders.” and (p. 62): “Prevailing analytic opinion failed to accept that substructure de facto and relegated pre-oedipality to a footnote.” Bergler certainly didn’t. On the contrary, the pre-Oedipal phase was the central feature of his work. In this essay, we will attempt to outline why he considered the pre-Oedipal to be so important.
"Bergler, Edmund (1899-1962)." International Dictionary of Psychoanalysis. . Retrieved July 23, 2018 from Encyclopedia.com: http://www.encyclopedia.com/psycholog...
* Almost all material included (with the exception of the Appendix) are quotes from Bergler's "Curable and Incurable Neurotics" (1961).
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
July 10, 2019
This is the only book I know of on the topic that ultimately cured my writer's block. It is, as Bergler describes, "catastrophic" when this block occurs. There are no other experts that I know of who have experience treating writers or tackling this topic.
At times, Bergler would step too much into the Freudian framework but when he stepped out of it is where his phenomenal discoveries came about. There are a number of gems within this book that I placed into the 'Quotes' portion. When I first read:
“To prove the (rather scurrile) point, the writer acts both roles—that of the giving mother and the recipient child—on his own person. He gives to himself, out of himself, beautiful words and ideas, thus establishing an autarchy. That "magic gesture," acted on oneself, showing how the neurotic child in the writer allegedly wanted to be treated—kindly and lovingly—presents in the adult an unconscious tendentious alibi and is specific for the artist. Whereas the typical neurotic needs two people (himself and an object) for unconscious re-enactment of an infantile fantasy, the writer combines both roles into one.”
There was an enormous shift within me, he writes variations on this idea about five times and rightfully so. When I was 7 years old, I started to write out of the need to write as if I had no other choice (as Bergler correctly noted). My belief was, “If no one will listen at least the paper will” — in this sense, it is an aspect of myself that was missing and the form of self-nurturance that I gave to myself: words.
A part of what threw me off 10 years ago is that I formed a new belief (I think this is the “defense against the defense”): "Writing is making me socially inept therefore I need to stop writing or else I will remain that way." This can, of course, be half-true but not fully. To strip myself of the one thing that saved my life (writing) is to strip my roots out from the core of my being. Reading the above paragraph along with its variations brought me back to life.
What is interesting, different, and helpful about this book is that there is a supplement chapter at the end of it. In this chapter, there were examples of different reviews on this book as well as Bergler's feedback on them. By the end of reading this section, I saw where I misunderstood some of what he wrote. He gave feedback on a review where he explains that he did not form final conclusions that are set in stone in this book (as I am sure is true for other books he has written), that he treated 36 writers and there is more work to be done on the topic. He leaves his findings open-ended and that his hope is that experts build on top of his work. Bergler was fully aware that Psychology was still at its early stages when he wrote this book and that there is so much more that is unknown.
While I read this book, I kept in mind how incomplete psychoanalysis was at the time before I formed any conclusions. By doing so, I did get what I needed out of it - a way out of writer's block. The funny thing is that none of the several "literary critics" who reviewed his book even mentioned writer's block! For me, that was the whole point of reading the book.
There is a chapter on alcoholism and homosexuality. I did find merit and there was something to what he wrote on alcoholism in how I experienced it in the past, I don't have personal experience or expertise with the latter so I can't say much about it.
Edmund Bergler is an underappreciated individualistic thinker. I do hope that experts pick up where he left off and don't write him off out of misunderstanding, someone misrepresenting him, and so on (as typical people usually do). I couldn't believe that this would actually help me solve a problem that several psychotherapists overlook. This is vital material that is detrimental if ignored. After all, is it not Nietzsche and other prolific writers mentioned in this book, who "are fortunate in that they are able to treat their neurosis every day by writing..." where in doing so, highly influenced psychoanalysis?
In case you are interested, I found Bergler's book from a panel with Kurt Vonnegut and Lee Stringer, who discuss the process of writing and creativity: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FBcAT...
I do hope both you find this feedback valuable.
At times, Bergler would step too much into the Freudian framework but when he stepped out of it is where his phenomenal discoveries came about. There are a number of gems within this book that I placed into the 'Quotes' portion. When I first read:
“To prove the (rather scurrile) point, the writer acts both roles—that of the giving mother and the recipient child—on his own person. He gives to himself, out of himself, beautiful words and ideas, thus establishing an autarchy. That "magic gesture," acted on oneself, showing how the neurotic child in the writer allegedly wanted to be treated—kindly and lovingly—presents in the adult an unconscious tendentious alibi and is specific for the artist. Whereas the typical neurotic needs two people (himself and an object) for unconscious re-enactment of an infantile fantasy, the writer combines both roles into one.”
There was an enormous shift within me, he writes variations on this idea about five times and rightfully so. When I was 7 years old, I started to write out of the need to write as if I had no other choice (as Bergler correctly noted). My belief was, “If no one will listen at least the paper will” — in this sense, it is an aspect of myself that was missing and the form of self-nurturance that I gave to myself: words.
A part of what threw me off 10 years ago is that I formed a new belief (I think this is the “defense against the defense”): "Writing is making me socially inept therefore I need to stop writing or else I will remain that way." This can, of course, be half-true but not fully. To strip myself of the one thing that saved my life (writing) is to strip my roots out from the core of my being. Reading the above paragraph along with its variations brought me back to life.
What is interesting, different, and helpful about this book is that there is a supplement chapter at the end of it. In this chapter, there were examples of different reviews on this book as well as Bergler's feedback on them. By the end of reading this section, I saw where I misunderstood some of what he wrote. He gave feedback on a review where he explains that he did not form final conclusions that are set in stone in this book (as I am sure is true for other books he has written), that he treated 36 writers and there is more work to be done on the topic. He leaves his findings open-ended and that his hope is that experts build on top of his work. Bergler was fully aware that Psychology was still at its early stages when he wrote this book and that there is so much more that is unknown.
While I read this book, I kept in mind how incomplete psychoanalysis was at the time before I formed any conclusions. By doing so, I did get what I needed out of it - a way out of writer's block. The funny thing is that none of the several "literary critics" who reviewed his book even mentioned writer's block! For me, that was the whole point of reading the book.
There is a chapter on alcoholism and homosexuality. I did find merit and there was something to what he wrote on alcoholism in how I experienced it in the past, I don't have personal experience or expertise with the latter so I can't say much about it.
Edmund Bergler is an underappreciated individualistic thinker. I do hope that experts pick up where he left off and don't write him off out of misunderstanding, someone misrepresenting him, and so on (as typical people usually do). I couldn't believe that this would actually help me solve a problem that several psychotherapists overlook. This is vital material that is detrimental if ignored. After all, is it not Nietzsche and other prolific writers mentioned in this book, who "are fortunate in that they are able to treat their neurosis every day by writing..." where in doing so, highly influenced psychoanalysis?
In case you are interested, I found Bergler's book from a panel with Kurt Vonnegut and Lee Stringer, who discuss the process of writing and creativity: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FBcAT...
I do hope both you find this feedback valuable.
Displaying 1 of 1 review