There are degrees to it. I've met quite a few writers who are some degree of famous. Most of them are nice, but (naming no names here) there's the guy who hogged reading time at a con and got into a fight with somebody else's fans. There's the guy who was openly sympathetic towards January 6. There's the woman who said nasty things about people who play certain video games...in front of somebody who played those games. The very big name who yelled at me trying to "encourage" me as a writer...who also happened to be a college professor. I was left feeling sorry for his poor students.

Sometimes they're just a little bit of a jerk, and I'm happy to separate the art from the artist and keep reading their stuff.

Sometimes, though? Orson Scott Card gets none of my money because he donates to anti-gay organizations. J.K. Rowling has given ideas to the people trying to, ultimately, detransition ALL trans people, everywhere. She also gets none of my money.

An odious personal habit such as hogging the elevator doesn't get the same level of judgment.