Some scattered grumbling over Neil Gaiman
Jan. 27th, 2025 11:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
breakinglight11I have such angry feelings about the whole Neil Gaiman situation. Most of them are the same as what most folks, given how disgusting that behavior is. But I think I’m tripping over a dimension of them I haven’t seem much discussion of, and I want to grind over that a little.
As I said, I’m disgusted, but not really heartbroken. I like Gaiman’s work a fair bit, but never loved it, nor did it mean a huge amount to me. So it doesn’t feel like a betrayal in that dimension. But it does get at me on a personal level every time a man who has achieved something like I’d love to achieve uses that achievement to abuse people.
I confess to dreams of superstar creative status, though I’m not delusional enough to think they’re likely to ever come true. So if I’m very honest, I harbor a fair bit of jealousy for the few writers who ever get there, Neil Gaiman among them. So every time some superstar is revealed to be a monster— specifically, the kind of monster who leverages their status to take advantage of and hurt people —it just makes my blood boil with the injustice of it.
I know so many super talented, totally kind and decent people who labor in obscurity while assholes like him, like Joss Whedon, like others, find enormous creative success. I mean, God knows I’m not a perfect person. The toxic ambition and jealousy are the least of it— I basically just centered my own frustration in a discussion of people who were assaulted by a man with power. God forgive me. But a big part of why I want the status that comes along with attention and accolades is to use it to treat people BETTER, not hurt and take advantage of them.
That kind of success confers power. People want to collaborate with you, supply you with resources, facilitate you getting your work done. I want those things not just to make my own work better, but to give me the ability to thank and support those who have helped me in the way they deserve. To see that they get accolades, support, attention, adulation, compensation, equal to contributions. And to protect them from struggles and pains in the neck that could get in their work.
Like, take our most recent Hawking live show. We ran into all kind of problems with the technical setup at the event that was hosting us, and not a lot of investment in helping us solve those problems. It made it so much harder for the cast and crew to do their jobs. They’re amazing, so of course they knocked it out of the park anyway, but they shouldn’t have had to deal with that after all their hard work. And I felt frustrated and ashamed, because I had so little power to mitigate that for them. Because I’m not important enough to warrant anything better.
The whole time, I couldn’t shake the feeling. If I were somebody— if Breaking Light Productions was something— people would do better for us. They’d feel it more necessary to support us. And I’d have the resources to fix problems when they happened. But I’m not, so I can’t.
The folks who have been kind enough to collaborate with me deserve so much better that I can offer. Right now, I can’t pay anybody what they’re worth. I can’t even promise a smooth experience where they’re able to just show up and do what they agreed to do. I want to have that power so I can do better for them. So every time I hear about somebody using that power to hurt, it turns my stomach with the unfairness. Sure, maybe you’re talented— but there are so many talented people who aren’t assholes! Why should the assholes be the ones who get uplifted?
Just grinds my gears.
As I said, I’m disgusted, but not really heartbroken. I like Gaiman’s work a fair bit, but never loved it, nor did it mean a huge amount to me. So it doesn’t feel like a betrayal in that dimension. But it does get at me on a personal level every time a man who has achieved something like I’d love to achieve uses that achievement to abuse people.
I confess to dreams of superstar creative status, though I’m not delusional enough to think they’re likely to ever come true. So if I’m very honest, I harbor a fair bit of jealousy for the few writers who ever get there, Neil Gaiman among them. So every time some superstar is revealed to be a monster— specifically, the kind of monster who leverages their status to take advantage of and hurt people —it just makes my blood boil with the injustice of it.
I know so many super talented, totally kind and decent people who labor in obscurity while assholes like him, like Joss Whedon, like others, find enormous creative success. I mean, God knows I’m not a perfect person. The toxic ambition and jealousy are the least of it— I basically just centered my own frustration in a discussion of people who were assaulted by a man with power. God forgive me. But a big part of why I want the status that comes along with attention and accolades is to use it to treat people BETTER, not hurt and take advantage of them.
That kind of success confers power. People want to collaborate with you, supply you with resources, facilitate you getting your work done. I want those things not just to make my own work better, but to give me the ability to thank and support those who have helped me in the way they deserve. To see that they get accolades, support, attention, adulation, compensation, equal to contributions. And to protect them from struggles and pains in the neck that could get in their work.
Like, take our most recent Hawking live show. We ran into all kind of problems with the technical setup at the event that was hosting us, and not a lot of investment in helping us solve those problems. It made it so much harder for the cast and crew to do their jobs. They’re amazing, so of course they knocked it out of the park anyway, but they shouldn’t have had to deal with that after all their hard work. And I felt frustrated and ashamed, because I had so little power to mitigate that for them. Because I’m not important enough to warrant anything better.
The whole time, I couldn’t shake the feeling. If I were somebody— if Breaking Light Productions was something— people would do better for us. They’d feel it more necessary to support us. And I’d have the resources to fix problems when they happened. But I’m not, so I can’t.
The folks who have been kind enough to collaborate with me deserve so much better that I can offer. Right now, I can’t pay anybody what they’re worth. I can’t even promise a smooth experience where they’re able to just show up and do what they agreed to do. I want to have that power so I can do better for them. So every time I hear about somebody using that power to hurt, it turns my stomach with the unfairness. Sure, maybe you’re talented— but there are so many talented people who aren’t assholes! Why should the assholes be the ones who get uplifted?
Just grinds my gears.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2025-01-27 06:26 pm (UTC)And if they were always monsters, did that give them a competitive edge somewhere? Were they able to make deals with their devils that got them where they wanted to be? Is the world ignoring the almost there people who are seeing very real success on their own terms (I think of people like Ada Palmer, who, like you, are quite successful in their academic careers, and show reasonable success in their other pursuits as well, but not enough to give over their day jobs.) because they don't have that monster?