So I dug it up here and realized I was thinking of stuff I had not mentioned before about the dangers of sitting down at the typewriter and opening a vein.
You always need to open the vein into the inkwell and then alchemically transform it into ink before it's fit to be art, because life has to become art to enter art.
But this applies with double force to inspiration from abstract ideas. Well, not the aesthetic ones. Tweaking Romeo & Juliet to have a happy ending is intrinsically Art, if otherwise difficult. Or an imaginary land filled with heraldic beasts, which merely has the problem of all travelogues, of fitting in a plot and characters best suited to show off the land in an interesting manner.
But more philosophical notions, like life, need to be turned into art before being plopped down on the page, whether they stem from metaphysics or political philosophy, or anything in between. The horrors of Communism, the evils of glorifying pure rebelliousness, the Cause of the Moment, are real life, even if they offer conflict and story potential.
To be sure there's also the need to reflect on Plato's Apology and remember that being even a fabulous fiction writer doesn't necessarily guarantee wisdom in other arenas. . . .