In life, writing, and the general process of living and daily decision making, there is always a degree of risk. The scale of which we measure this daily risk is far different from person to person. The same risk holds more weight for one human than another.
I read your article to the end, understanding where you were going with it and why, but also seeing what Tim Barrus saw, or at least in part. With the first line of his response, I knew where he was going with it. Why? Because I’m familiar with his work. I agree with the point he presented to you and to anyone who reads it.
While you are stepping outside of your comfort zone, I had the feeling that you were only standing in the doorway of your comfort zone, attempting to shout out to those passing by.
My suggestion to you Jason Evangelho, do not ditch the wife, do not ditch the job at Forbes, but write feverishly with the thoughts and feelings you suppress. You do not have to pack up and walk away from the security you have in order to be great. You simply have to put yourself out there, write something that makes you vulnerable, something that scares the hell out of you. Write something from fear, from pain, from regret.
To answer your question about solitude and suffering, for the most part, yes.
Great work comes from great pain. Yes, I will say that perhaps it is possible for an artist to create something magnificent without solitude and suffering, but not consistently. It is the pain that sets our souls on fire. It is the solitude that leaves us alone with the person inside of us. In that solitude, we find the words, we find the prose, we find all of it.
As Tim also said to you, you have a spark. I see it too. Your job now is, turn that spark into a fucking bonfire. You can’t do that by standing in the doorway of your comfort zone.