The Danger

I think the greatest danger in being a writer is becoming an asshole.

I just finished browsing the livejournal of an author whose work I used to enjoy. The tone of her site left me shaking my head, realizing that yet another writer has fallen to the Ego Side.

I know a few well known authors and artists, and it's disquieting how many of them start to believe their own hype. One of the good guys out there is Tad Williams, who remains a decent, solid human being as well as being one of the most talented and imaginative people I know. Yet he's one of the rare ones. Others seem to see their fans as a pain in the ass, forgetting that the only reason they can now write full time are the poor slobs who march up to the counter and buy their books.
I've seen others just throw themselves into the persona of Tortured Artist, howling at the cosmos that they have to sit and work for eight or nine hours a day, and can't go out and write the definitive catalogue on Lapverian earwigs that they believe is their life's work.

I just don't get it. Which is why I'm never invited back to literary functions, it seems.