At writing, I’m about 5-hours away from finishing J. Michael Straczynski’s memoir Becoming Superman: My Journey From Poverty to Hollywood. His many professional credits include writing episodes for The Real Ghostbusters and He-Man, writing the screenplay for Marvel’s Thor, a hugely successful run in comics, and creating Babylon 5. It’s an incredible story of crime, poverty, all forms of abuse, as well as triumph and perseverance. The narrative is gripping and it’s difficult to put down. I’ve only been listening for a few days now and I’ve ripped through 11-hours. Even if he did embellish on the details to make his story more sympathetic (which I sincerely doubt he did), it’s a masterclass in storytelling.
I enjoy reading memoirs and biographies because it gives me a chance to glean insights from their stories. It may be a bit premature to write this since I haven’t finished the book, but there is so much to get from his story that I felt compelled to dash this off.
In no particular order:
JMS came from a broken home, where abuse, neglect, and punishment was the norm. He recognized early that he had two options – become like his abusers, or break the cycle by becoming the opposite of what his abusers embodied. In that way, he gravitated towards positive role models both fantastical, like Superman, and real life, like his surrogate father-figure Vincent. JMS refused to allow his past to dictate his future, and he believed he should own his circumstances, rather than use it as an excuse.
Once he realized he was meant to be a writer, JMS devoted himself to his craft. He found every excuse and opportunity to write. He learned to fill voids at the newspaper, where other journalists let deadlines slip them by. No area was beneath him to write, and no domain was too foreign for him to jump in and attempt. He cobbled together an eclectic background that spanned multiple genres and styles, all in an attempt to hone his craft. The best advice he attributes is when a famous author told him on a cold call to “stop writing shit. If it wasn’t shit, people would buy it.” JMS saw writing through college as his way of purging the shit writing from his system so that he could let his stories flow from him, and he wouldn’t let anyone stop him from telling his stories.
JMS quit a lot of shows based on principles. When network executives and censors wanted to change the essence of his stories, he walked away. When friends and mentors, whom took chances on him early in his career, were fired from projects, he quit in solidarity. When he stumbled into work that he initially dismissed as beneath him, he swallowed his pride and took jobs he knew he could learn from. He often sacrificed his career and work to stand up for what he believed in, and didn’t complain about the consequences.
On children’s taste
While JMS fought against problematic characterizations on The Real Ghostbusters (he said”motherizing” Janine was regressive and sexist, and making Winston the driver was racist) one interesting insight he provided was how children viewed the show. A change recommended by consultants and the network was to create a group of junior Ghostbusters for child viewers to identify with. JMS pushed back, saying that no child wants to be Robin, but instead wanted to grow up to be Batman. The Ghostbusters provided children with something to aspire towards; a sense of direction. To see children on the screen acting like Ghostbusters, child viewers wouldn’t identify with them because they represented something they wanted but were not and couldn’t be. In this, he’s making a connection that representation and aspiration are important to viewers. He similarly walked away from She-Ra for the network refusing to allow She-Ra to be a warrior. To him, it was important to give children something they could see themselves becoming one day.
There are many things JMS wrote on that he did that was unethical and illegal. When he couldn’t afford to buy books as a child, he stole them, carefully read them without damaging the spine, then would sneak the books back to return them. When he wanted to take classes that weren’t open to him but he desperately wanted to further his abilities as a writer, he broke into the faculty office, stole permission slips and altered the roster to put him into the courses. When he needed to move on from grad school, he knew another year would sacrifice a lot of ground in his career, but he needed to appease his abusive father, so he broke into the Registrar’s office to make it appear he was graduating. (As of reading in the book, he has yet to try and leverage the fake degree in his career, but merely needed to exit from the program without provoking his father or endangering his siblings). Because of his upbringing, he learned how to see opportunities to open doors. This, combined with his work ethic, means that he worked hard to leverage past experiences to create future value. While this is hardly good career advice, it’s worth staying mindful of – that not all career advances come by entering through the front door.
Throughout the book, JMS is careful to note that he’s been more lucky than good. He recognizes that while hard work is vital to his story, there are many times where he was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. His ability to leverage his experience allowed him to go from writing one-act plays, to short stories, to journalism, to television screen-writing, to eventually movies and comics. He notes many times in his story that he was mere steps away from making bad decisions, or letting his faults get the best of him. In many precarious places, he could have gone down the wrong path, any he nearly died several times. Rather than letting luck go to his head, he refused to become complacent and always did the work. Above all else, his work ethic is probably the most important lesson I drew from his story.