An ongoing issue in the literary community is people weaponizing the language of social justice to excuse wrongdoing, which is not only tacky, but it minimizes real problems and weakens the language needed to discuss them. NaMoWriMo released a statement supporting the use of generative AI, and accused critics of ableism and classism – even though their critics include disabled people and people who have experienced poverty. There’s a big difference between using assistive devices to do the work yourself, such as Terry Pratchett dictating novels in his own words as his illness progressed, or typing a few keywords into a program that generates a novel for you. Needless to say, critics only grew louder. The organization tried to clarify in multiple revisions. Total disaster.
Another issue is influencers encouraging theft like returning e-books after they’ve been read in their entirety, and piracy of ebooks and audiobooks. Someone claimed readers aren’t responsible for paying the people whose work they consume, and that the system (Amazon) creates them.
Enables?
Yes.
Creates?
We aren’t talking about people born into systemic poverty struggling to survive, but people with plenty of time to share bad takes on social media, and to consume books or audiobooks. Authors lose income when books get returned, and Amazon may withhold earnings and remove audiobooks that have been pirated despite Amazon’s own security failures. One of my goals is releasing audiobooks. My peers have experienced many challenges so I’m leaning toward investing in equipment to produce my own audiobooks. However, issues like piracy give me pause. Writing is already cost-prohibitive before you factor in theft and piracy. The median income is $2,000. Most of us have day jobs. The less we make writing, the less we can afford to write, the less books to read. Wait times are not a valid reason to continue theft and piracy instead of borrowing from online and physical libraries.
Buying books is also cost-prohibitive so readers are understandably risk-averse in that regard. One stigma about indie publishing is a presumed lack of editing. A book should never be so riddled with errors it impairs readability. Unfortunately, some authors consider editing gatekeeping, and even have the audacity to ask “but what about poor people? Shouldn’t they be heard?”
Of course, but they’re worried about their next meal or keeping a roof over their head, not trying to convince people to buy unreadable books. Unethical readers and writers need to stop hiding behind people with even less financial security, and be more respectful of each other’s time and money. Some writers use poverty as an excuse to use generative AI instead of paying artists or photographers. I question the integrity of their writing. Others use them as another excuse for theft and piracy. And on and on it goes.
As unfun as real piracy is, I enjoy our town’s annual pirate festival and the first two Pirates of the Caribbean movies, but especially Stardust, which features lightning pirates – a cool concept relegated to a single paragraph of deus ex machina halfway through the book by Neil Gaiman. It’s the rare case of a movie improving upon the source material. A couple minor adjustments in the adaptation of Coraline are also improvements, but it’s one of my favorite children’s books alongside The Graveyard Book. Anansi Boys is one of my favorite adult novels, but Stardust frustrated me. The second half is meandering and listless, and devoid of any real tension or suspense.
Recently it’s the person – not his writing – disappointing fans as allegations of sexual abuse from five women came out. Some readers insist there were clues in his writing all along, which has led to bad takes and assumptions about other writers (even readers). You can infer someone’s values from their writing, but it’s not an exact science. Only hindsight is 20/20. And all the people who used to say “at least we still have Gaiman” about Rowling have begun saying “at least we still have [insert another fantasy author here].”
Stop it.
We need to avoid parasocial relationships with people whose work we admire (or not). Nobody knows what happens behind closed doors, until we do. Especially people we don’t know personally. Some fans center their feelings of hurt and betrayal. Other readers feel weirdly vindicated. None of it’s helpful to victims or investigations.
