I kind of resent it when really talented writers quit writing. It’s like, yeah, we get it–the writing life is hard. But you know what? You already won the writing lottery: you got the talent and the vision!
It’s like if a whole bunch of us were climbing a glacier, and one guy had, like, icepicks instead of fingers and toes, and he was just clawing his way across the glacier like a spider, and then he hit a crevasse and was, “Oh, fuck these crevasses, right? It isn’t worth it, I’m going home!” And like yeah, I get it, crevasses suck. But meanwhile you’ve got icepicks for fingers, and you’re giving up, while over here we’ve got legless people who’re still gamely scrambling upward!
The converse of this is that I’m impressed when bad writers are able to succeed. Some people seem to resent it when bad writing is successful in the marketplace, whereas “I’m like, whoah, good for you! It’s so impressive that you made it up this glacier even though your legs were tied together.”