MM on the torment of suffering for ones art

I've been neglecting the musings recently with my mind trained on writing more of the masterpiece 'The Elephant Orphanage'. Sunday's Observer ran a profile of Thomas Harris - author of the Hannibal Lecter books. One paragraph which dealt with how much of a 'torment' he finds the process of writing could have been written about my existence in recent weeks........
"He remains reclusive, but is seldom morose, even though he is so often alone, working in quite an isolated setting.....he sits for days at a time not even writing a word. Its the intimacy of the details he's after.'

If they had written it about me, which no doubt they will in time, a similar paragraph might read;

"he sits in a garage at an argos desk, in a woolen hat and several layers of clothing for days at a time hitting the roof with an old 9 iron to scare of the squirrels who ruin concentration, switching the small heater to 'max', wondering if it is acceptable to take a break to watch neighbours, listening to 'mundanes' on the Xfm drive time show, losing at 'freecell', tearing his hair out, dreaming of the house he will buy in Primrose Hill and wishing he was with friends in india, madrid, canada, the alps or brazil."

One has to suffer for ones art, but that Primrose Hill house will be mine!