Now that some time has passed, I want to discuss the fallout from the Neil Gaiman tragedy at the beginning of the year – and what it means for the fantasy writing community as a whole. I waited so long because I want to ensure that we keep talking about this issue and don’t let people memoryhole what said author did.

We don’t need to hash it all over because I’m sure you’ve already heard everything by now. If you haven’t, then you can read the Vulture article “There Is No Safe Word,” which describes the allegations in nauseating detail. It’s a really heavy read that delves deep into many instances of sexual assault, psychological abuse, and grooming.

If you’re not in a place where you can handle that, this BBC article gives a less explicit overview of what happened.

I call it tragedy because it is a tragedy: not for Gaiman or his ex-wife Amanda Palmer, but for the women he abused. This man and his partner exploited vulnerable women for his own self-gratification while positioning himself as a liberal, “woke” author who cared about disenfranchised people.

Of course, Neil Gaiman is far from the only fantasy author who has used their platform to harm marginalized communities. While I have never heard allegations of direct abuse by JK Rowling, we’re all aware of how she has gone off the deep end and ruined her credibility by hounding trans people.

Her transphobic vitriol has been a huge factor in why anti-trans rhetoric has seen an explosive rise in recent years. In fact, I’d posit that the entire “LGB without the T” movement comes partly from her platforming hatred.

Escapist genres have a demonstrable issue with abuse.

This is true of both the fantasy and romance genres. C.J. Subko Books goes into detail about how romantasy is dominated by white, cishet women, especially those with conservative values.

Plagiarism is abundant, partially because romantasy is the “fast fashion” of literature. Authors are expected to pump out dozens of books a year, so of course many will cut corners. This is also true in pure romance; KC Crowne was caught blatantly using generative AI in her work, which is the ultimate plagiarism machine.

Meanwhile, the fantasy community has been rattled by Gaiman’s abominable behavior, but he is only one of many examples of fuckery that range from annoying to horrific.

For example, Cassandra Clare plagiarized vast swathes of her works but still went on to have a successful career. Marion Zimmer Bradley, who wrote the Mists of Avalon series, was accused of letting her pedophilic husband molest her daughter for years. This post over on Gaudium Mag goes into more detail and lists other examples, so I won’t belabor the point.

This isn’t to say that romance, fantasy, and romantasy are the only genres where authors happen to be terrible people. Every genre is infiltrated by assholes. However, it seems to be an especially troubling problem in fantasy and romance, which are some of the most escapist genres out there.

Fantasy and romance strongly appeal to vulnerable people seeking escape from their real-life problems.

Borrowing a sword-and-sorcery novel from the library, or buying a $0.99 trashy romance, is cheaper and easier than going to therapy. You get to disappear into someone else’s life and feel better about yourself. All the scary things you’re worrying about go away for a while; you’re absorbed in a better place where nothing can hurt you.

I know this because I’ve relied heavily on fantasy media during the worst periods of my life. During my childhood growing up in an abusive home, I inhaled the Redwall series and began roleplaying Redwall OCs on message boards.

After I was assaulted during grad school, I started watching Sailor Moon because the plots were easy to follow when my brain was so rotted by C-PTSD. I later got absorbed in Touken Ranbu, another fantasy series, and used fanfic as reprieve from my shitty job and social isolation.

Escapism isn’t necessarily a bad thing. My time in the Touken Ranbu fandom was a net positive because it got me writing fiction again, giving me the courage and practice necessary to embark on the Eirenic Verses series. People find comfort and community in fandom; I’ve made plenty of friends by bonding over our favorite media series, even meeting up with a few of them IRL.

The real problem here is the parasocial relationships that spring up when powerful authors engage one-on-one with fans, gaining access to these vulnerable people looking for love.

Celebrity worship creates power dynamics that encourage abuse.

Just like escapism, parasocial relationships are not necessarily bad. There are different levels of parasocial relationships, ranging from benign to pathological.

Having an “oshi,” or strong affinity for a fictional character, is also a form of parasocial relationship that, in most cases, is perfectly harmless. Uguisumaru from Touken Ranbu is my oshi; I even have a Nendoroid of him.

This was the first iteration of his dollhouse. I later made him a traditional Japanese bedroom, replete with a rice paper shoji screen door and tatami mats.

Caring about this character inspired me to write over a million words of fanfic, tackle my social anxiety, and try out a new craft form. In fact, Uileac Korviridi is partially based on him, so he influenced my original fiction too.

I’m not obsessed with him to the level that I can’t function, nor am I going to go on a brony murder spree in hopes of joining him in another realm. This is a healthy and positive attachment.

The issue arises when parasocial relationships turn into real-life ones with people who are already using escapism because of mental health problems.

While I am a nobody in the writing world, I’ve had this happen a few times. The most egregious example was while I was writing for the Touken Ranbu fandom, where a woman with some psychiatric problems glommed onto my work. She joined a private server I’d made to talk to other fans and promptly began lovebombing me.

This person told me, in all seriousness, that my fanfiction was the only thing that brought her joy in life and that if I stopped writing, she’d have nothing to live for anymore. She’d compulsively reference my stories throughout all our conversations, acting as if they were real, and would purchase random things I mentioned in the series, like bonsai plants and stuffed animals.

I told her to knock it off because she was making me uncomfortable. When she didn’t, I blocked her everywhere. The idea of someone being that obsessed with my work is exceptionally creepy and something I hope to never experience again.

But if I enjoyed manipulating other people for my own gains, she would have been easy pickings.

Gaiman’s victims were overjoyed when they found out that this famous author wanted to turn a one-sided relationship into a real one. He was a glamorous figure who could make their dreams come true, or so they thought. Many of them were in bad situations, such as being impoverished or mentally ill, and were flattered by a powerful man paying attention to them. Few had strong support systems that would urge them away from Gaiman, even as things started going downhill.

He preyed on this celebrity culture both to exploit these women and, later, to bully them into holding their silence. In fact, he encouraged parasocial relationships through his very active Tumblr account, where he spoke both publicly and privately with people he knew weren’t in a good place.

For many years, Gaiman’s presence on Tumblr was seen as a cutesy joke, but in hindsight, it was both inappropriate and concerning. Why did a grown man have such an interest in a social media platform that trends pretty young? Why was he so personal and intimate with his followers? I don’t think it was out of good intentions.

You cannot really know what’s going on behind the scenes.

I have never been a fan of either of Gaiman or Rowling. I haven’t read any of Gaiman’s books, nor have I watched any of the visual adaptations. Similarly, I read half of the Harry Potter series as a child and watched some of the movies, but never really got into it as much as everyone else of my generation.

This is not me saying “oh, I had a bad feeling about them, oh, I always knew they were bad people.”

I didn’t. Most people didn’t. Their work didn’t appeal to me, but this wasn’t because of bad vibes or anything. Prior to their downfall, I was merely neutral about both; now, I am disdainful of them, though still-neutral about their books. If I hadn’t read it before, I sure as hell won’t read it now, and therefore I cannot give any arguments about their books’ quality or lack thereof.

Indeed, I found Neil Gaiman’s constant posts on Tumblr a bit charming, like he really wanted to engage with his audience on a more personal level. This didn’t mean I liked him, just that I found his interactions harmless. I suspect many people agreed with me in that regard.

It’s pointless to crow about how you “always knew he was a bad person” or that you could see it coming. Did you really, or are you changing the narrative after the fact? If you did truly see it coming, then why did you never express your trepidations?

You’re not a bad person if you liked Gaiman’s books or him as a person. You, the casual reader, couldn’t possibly know what was happening in his personal life. It’s what you do with the information now that really matters.

But this doesn’t answer the burning question that both I and many others want to ask.

What does the fantasy community do to combat this abuse?

Firstly, we need to acknowledge the impossibility of rooting out every abuser in the fantasy genre. Awful people are in every community, big and small. They always will be, especially in places where isolated and vulnerable people congregate.

But this doesn’t mean we have to tolerate their presence. If you have concerns about anyone, speak up. See it as harm reduction. Don’t make baseless accusations just because you don’t like someone; there are individuals you might not be fond of, but that doesn’t necessarily make them awful people.

Witch hunts do not help anyone, especially not survivors. False accusations are extremely damaging to the cause, as people will assume the rest of us are lying. But you shouldn’t be afraid to speak up, no matter how much power and influence someone has.

Bring up what you’ve seen in a productive and fact-based way. Point out the strange behavior, and pair it with research or personal experience about abusive dynamics. Make it clear that you don’t know for a fact if they are doing anything wrong, but that you want others to consider whether there might be something wrong.

Most importantly, we need to all take a step back.

Fans need to stop thinking they’re friends with their favorite author. You’re not. You like their work, but you don’t know them outside of their curated public image. Don’t let a stranger have power over you; accept their work as it is, without attaching yourself to that person’s image.

Likewise, authors need to stop getting so buddy-buddy with their fans. Just as there are awful people in every community, there are also people who cannot separate fiction from reality or who think that reading your work means they know you on a personal level.

Authors can interact positively with their audience, but it’s crucial that they focus the attention on their work rather trying to befriend every fan. Stop oversharing your personal life online or engaging one-on-one with fans except in very controlled cases.

While I do share things about my life here and elsewhere, you are only seeing a small part of me: the part I want you to see. You, as a reader, don’t have access to my personal relationships, my inner thoughts, my likes and dislikes, my hangups or my dreams. Unless I know you IRL or have spoken to you extensively as a peer, you’re not my friend. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me just because you’ve read my books.

Boundaries are so important at every level, whether you’re a small-time indie writer like me or a world-renowned author. They become even more essential when you have access to a large group of loyal fans, not all of whom will be able to impose boundaries themselves.

We, as writers and readers, all need to know less about one another. It’s only by doing so that we can prevent exploitative situations.