When the Pedestal Breaks

 

Bill Cosby, Roald Dahl, and now, Neil Gaiman. . .

All creators whose work inspired me. The comedy routines, the colorful character archetypes, clever banter, and layering and subverting storytelling tropes to send a powerful message.

They each left a mark on my childhood, strong influences in my writing style, and now, wounds in my heart.

Never meet your heroes. Don't buy into the hype. Reminds the Cynic.

'Good art' doesn't make 'good people.' Sighs the Rationalist.

My dream was to be like them when I grew up. Morns the Inner Child.

What lines will you cross? Asks the Pessimist. If you make it big, what hypocrisy will you commit?

I'm nearly thirty-five years old. I've have grieved many fallen role-models – from artists and storytellers, to community leaders and my own kin. It hurts each time. The betrayals compound into a single stinging feeling. “You can't trust anybody.”

However, a life without trust, without letting people into the deep and vulnerable places of your heart is impossible. When anyone gets deep enough to inspire you, they have the power to hurt you.

It's especially painful when you have to dig them out of that cherished place your heart. Beautiful memories you have shaped your life around take a new hue. Those sparks of passion and inspiration risk flickering out under the feeling of shame and rage. You have to ask yourself, “What does this mean for my dream?”

I will keep writing. I not hide the fact that flawed people played a part in shaping how I write.

I want to share stories. I want to dare people to put a little kindness, bravery, and whimsy back in this complicated world.

I'm keeping my dream.

Watercolor, Rima Staines