Not just talented and not just interesting, because those things are usually a given. I'm talking about the way you're expected to be nice, and accommodating, and limitlessly friendly.
And not just ordinary nice, either. I’m talking next-level, saint-tier niceness –– generous with your process, endlessly accessible, visibly and giddily grateful at all times. Ideally, you’re supposed to come off like some magical art fairy who somehow creates these deeply personal, emotionally resonant pieces and has the time and desire to walk every stranger through the mechanics of how it's done.
And if you don’t? Well. Brace yourself for side-eyes, subtle guilt-tripping, and a few thinly veiled posts in your feed about how some creators are “too full of themselves to help others anymore.” But here’s the truth. That sort of entitlement makes me deeply uncomfortable, so you're not alone if that's the way it makes you feel, too. I also don’t owe anyone that kind of access, and neither do you.
The Myth of the Nice Artist
Somewhere along the way, we all seem to absorb this myth that a “good” creator is also a public servant with zero boundaries. They’re supposed to be constantly open to questions, full of encouragement, and ready to hand over their creative secrets to absolutely anyone just because someone asked nicely. Especially in online communities, especially if you're a woman, especially if your work carries any spiritual or emotional weight.
You’re expected to smile, nod, and say “thank you” even when someone’s hovering way too close, asking to peek into your sketchbook, or low-key hinting that they want your source files. (For free, of course.) And if you don’t play along? You’re “standoffish.” “Difficult.” “Ungrateful.” Or worse, “elitist.”
I've heard all of those a time or three over the years, and worse. But here’s the catch. The people who honestly have the nerve to say things like that to you, all while claiming to love and respect your work? They’re not your audience. They’re consumers. And there’s a difference.
