I keep thinking I'm done--THE HORSE IS DEAD, YOU HAVE TORN IT TO PIECES WITH YOUR TERRIBLE CLAWS, YOU PREHISTORIC MONSTER, YOU--but then there's one more thing.
One of the problems with NOT calling out bad behavior is that it's not like there's one set of rules for professional behavior that we get handed when we publish our first book or attend our first con. The rules are nebulous and squishy, and change with time.
Something that's fine and appropriate from a baby author just starting out can be a massive abuse of power from a respected pro, and sometimes vice-versa; it's situational and contextual.
So you could be doing something right now, today, that would be abusive and cruel at another stage in your career, or presumptuous, or just boring.
An example that doesn't involve hurting anyone else:
When I attend a panel, it's usually because the topic interests me, or because one or more of the panelists interests me. I honestly don't care about the rest of them.
When I attend a panel, it's usually because the topic interests me, or because one or more of the panelists interests me. I honestly don't care about the rest of them.
I've been attending panels since I was fourteen, and I can only think of three instances where someone has been asked to introduce themselves and it's changed anything for me about the panel.
(One of those instances, sadly, I was a co-panelist, and when the woman announced that she had been one of the main writers for THE GUMMI BEARS, I lost all power of speech and mostly stared at her raptly for the rest of the hour.)
I started DOING panels, not just attending them, as a sixteen year old whose main credentials were "reasonably coherent" and "has a pulse."
So I fell into the habit of, when it was time to introduce myself, saying something utterly ridiculous but hopefully interesting, and that didn't feel too egotistical.
"Hi, I'm Seanan McGuire, and I can recite every word of LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS."
"Hi, I'm Seanan McGuire, and I used Kenneth Muir's HORROR FILMS OF THE 1980S as a checklist."
"Hi..."
"Hi, I'm Seanan McGuire, and I used Kenneth Muir's HORROR FILMS OF THE 1980S as a checklist."
"Hi..."
This habit has persisted into my time as a professional writer. My own experience tells me that the people who care already know who I am, and the rest won't be swayed by what feels like an arrogant listing of my credentials.
But at some point in the last few years, I leveled up as a writer (probably with EHaD, which won a bunch of awards and attracted a bunch of attention), and people stopped laughing at those introductions.
It took actually stopping and thinking about what I was doing to realize that I no longer seemed modest because I did that, I seemed arrogant as fuck. A switch had flipped.
"Oh, she said that because she assumed we ALL knew who she was, because we ONLY came to see her, what a bitch."
It feels awkward and braggadocios to actually list my credentials, but I'm trying to force myself to do so, because the context of my behavior has changed dramatically.
And that can be hard to adjust to! When you were used to getting dates at cons because you had no power, so it was just "I, a reasonably attractive person, have asked another reasonably attractive person who shares my interests for a date," having that change is AWFUL.
But much as I no longer have consent to have sex with any of my exes, the context of our behavior changes, and the behaviors people around us have implicitly or explicitly consented to can change.
We model what is "okay" by watching the people around us. Social animals, remember? And if it's still okay for ME, having it not be okay for YOU can suck.
But again, that's normal. I do not have permission to enter your home uninvited, raid your fridge, and change your Hulu password.
Permissions have always been different for different people, and contextual, and just because it's okay today doesn't mean it will be okay tomorrow.