Neil Gaiman, Art, Light, & Darkness
A friend of mine sent me Neil Gaiman’s commencement speech a few days ago. I listened to it, and I felt truly inspired. Neil is a master with language, and I found myself hanging on to his every word. He spoke with meaning and with impact.
I’m not sure how much I can reference, but early on he says, “When you start out in a career in the arts, you have no idea what you are doing.” Bam! I started writing a long time ago in the midst of a nervous breakdown. I had been crying for hours and I was in physical pain from the intensity of my emotions. I think it was getting late, and I had crumbled to the floor as I heaved. I prayed to God asking what I was supposed to do. In that moment, I was willing to hear any answer. And I heard a resonant voice, and it seemed to fill me, and the voice said, “Get up and write.” I was a veracious reader, but I had never thought about being a writer. But I got up, grabbed a pen and paper, and I started to handwrite a novel. In Neil’s speech, at one point he says in relation to one’s purpose, “just go and do that.” When he said it, I felt a kinship with the voice that I experienced.
OMG! Zero understanding of the craft; no preparation; no nothing! I handwrote the entire thing (which I still have) and it’s terrible. I had no idea what I was doing. And it’s been a difficult, exhausting, disappointing and also inspirational and satisfying journey to understand how to write a novel. It’s more than just the craft of putting words together in the right way, managing the pacing, creating interesting characters that feel real— it’s also a journey of seeing who I am, the light and the shadow, and of healing. In my journey of getting some idea of what I am doing has been a long one in part because I needed to achieve a certain level of interior integration before creating something that connected to other human beings. I believe I’m getting there with the second novel, but alas, I think I need to revisit book1 once I’m done as I was not quite there yet.
Sometimes I’ve wondered if I will get to see the Promise Land or if God sent me on the journey for the sake of the journey. Neil spoke of that— that he wished he had worried less and enjoyed the ride (the journey) with more intention. I want to take that in— I am getting to write every day— I’m no longer managing a flood of e-mails, spreadsheets, enduring open work environments and rush hour twice a day. And I have enough. How utterly amazing! Regardless of whether anyone reads what I write, I at least have the journey.
I did not know what was possible, what was impossible, or any of the rules of writing or storytelling. I had read a lot of novels, so there were hints/clues as to how it worked, but I never read anything with an eye toward the mechanics of why the story was put together the way it was. I briefly tried to copy the style of others but realized that would not work so I developed my own style, my own voice, for good or for bad.
I have an admiring envy of Neil that he knew he wanted to write, and he launched himself into the world as a journalist. He got paid to write, and he learned how to use words efficiently, to do so under pressure (deadlines). Me? I was in survival mode. I became an accountant. I’m great with process, with structure, numbers do not intimidate me, and the world of financial accounting is full of patterns (and pattern recognition is a strength). I went for survival. Neil embraced life. And I see that in his Sandman books.
I try to give myself grace. In may be that I would be long dead had I not chosen survival. And I retired early because I knew my time was running out, and the mountain was still far away.
Neil talked about “walking toward the mountain” in terms of his writing goals, of being an author. That imagery resonates. But because I chose survival, the mountain was much further away (or perhaps, it’s more that I took a circuitous route). Sometimes I would think, I am getting close!, but it was always a mirage. Many times I wanted to quit. But the voice I heard telling me write would echo, the mountain would appear, and I would take the next step. And another. By the gods! I hope I’m at last climbing toward the summit. Either way, I’m keep walking. What else is there to do?
I don’t have an agent. There is no one telling me what to do (other than the editor! Blessing to her :)). Though I wish I had someone advocating for my writing, there is also gratitude for the freedom of telling the story I want to tell. Money would be nice— but it’s not the reason for the journey. And I’ve already chosen money for survival. Now I get to make different choices.
Neil has been cancelled by much of the Culture because of accusations of sexual misconduct / abuse toward women. Netflix cancelled the Sandman series after the accusations surfaced, which was a sadness for me as it was one of the few adaptions in the modern era that did the source material justice (yes, there were things to criticize but overall I saw and felt the novels in the TV adaption). I’m not in to graphic novels / comics but I did have the complete Sandman series; I found the novels and the art work to be evocative, thought-provoking, dark, imaginative, interesting, intense— wild characters and stories that felt ahead of their time.
The Culture has rendered a kind of verdict, and as part of that, those who are “good”, who are “virtuous”, who are on the “right side” of history are supposed to demonstrate that by not only rejecting Neil as a human being but also his art; that the value or meaning of his art (or anyone’s) is tied to whatever judgments have been put upon him as a person. That doesn’t work for me. When I experience art, that’s what I experiencing. I feel no need to make a value judgment of the artist to determine my reaction to the art. Art comes through pain, through trials, through darkness, through suffering— the highest forms of art do not come from being safe and normal. There is a madness to life and there is an added, demented twist to being an artist
I’m in no position to render judgments about Neil’s behavior toward women. I am wary of historical accusations especially in regard to high-profile men. There is sometimes truth and sometimes there is not. Men have abused women. Women have lied about being abused. Emotions can reflect truth. Emotions can be used to lie and to manipulate. What might have been okay in the moment might later be deemed as wrong. Is that fair? To what extent is anyone responsible for the emotions of another? If Neil committed wrongs, there should be accountability.
And I like Neil’s art— even his darkness. I will continue to enjoy his art and to appreciate his wit and mastery of the English language.
And I leave with one of his parting comments, again, said with meaning, “make up your own rules.”
Neil is flawed (as we all are). In his flaws, he has made good art. For that, I thank him.
