You’re Really Offering Advice After Being Here Only Three Months?
Incredibly you think you’re helping us

You’re killing me here, new writers. Well, not all of you, ’cause some of the pieces I’ve had the pleasure to read or edit have been stone-cold awesome. I’m talking about these new writers (if you’re reading this, you know who you are) that quite obviously don’t have anything of substance rolling about in their heads, so they put out an advice piece on how to be successful.
And they’ve only been writing here for three months.
Oh, for the love of God and all that’s holy, stop it! Is it any wonder you’ve been rejected by almost every publication on this platform? I’m willing to bet when you sat down at your computer this morning you didn’t have a freaking clue what you were going to write about did you?
But you wanted to get something out to improve your chances of making your allotted three cents for the day, am I right?
Of course, I am.
And because you’re suddenly a self-anointed wunderkind writer, you think you can dole out drivel laden advice on how someone can improve their standing? Do you have any idea what the rest of the writing community is thinking of your latest advice piece?
No? Well, I’m probably one of the few who’s going to get up in your face and tell you the truth, so listen up.
We’re wondering whose writing advice you copied your little listicle of boring same old tried and true tips and tricks from. Surely you don’t expect us to believe you came up with shit we’ve read at least a thousand times already on your own, do you?
Trust us, we don’t.
If you think you just nailed the holy grail of advice pieces, let me clue you in my dear new writer. Most of us are thinking you’re either too new to know better, or like some of the new writers we’ve seen here, too much in a dash for the cash to give a shit about what they write.
But we try to give you the benefit of the doubt new writer. What we sincerely hope is that you’re not just another brain dead hack who’s incapable of any possible emotional divestiture.
If you’re not sure what emotional divestiture means, please, by all means, grab a dictionary and look it up. After reading the advice piece you just wrote, I believe you need all the freaking help you can get.
Do not start off my day or anybody else’s with such an affrontery as this.
As writers ourselves, we seek clear, concise pieces that resonate with us from our fellow writers. If it’s something to make us think, really think hard about a point you’re making then oh hell yeah, we’re all in. If it makes us snort coffee through our noses as we read what you’ve written, then you betcha.
If it makes us sad and we run through a half box of Kleenex just to get through something you write, then rock and roll with your bad self. But don’t sit there and offer us advice on what to do to be successful.
Especially when you’ve only been here for three.whole.months.
Come on, really new writer? Really? You’re much better than this. Well, you probably could be, I suppose. This was my first read of you, and I have to tell you I’m not impressed nor interested in any of your future work if this is all you’re going to offer.
Look, reach inside your soul, I mean deep down and dig up something you’re passionate about, something that angers you (who knows? Maybe something like this piece.) something that evokes strains of righteous indignation and write about it.
Write about the sadness of heartbreak from a jilted love affair, your personal take on yours, or members of your family’s dysfunctional lives. And if you’ve led an ideally Shirley Temple life, give us your own version of rainbows and the Good Ship Lollipop.
Just stop giving us advice shit after being a renter in this apartment complex for only three f*cking months. Stop being a copycat writing copycatted advice from a bunch of talking heads.
Take a chance on yourself and try tapping that real talent lying just beneath the surface and write something, really write something for a change.
Not only will you be glad you did, but so will we.
Thank you so much for reading. You didn’t have to, but I’m certainly glad you did.
Let’s keep in touch: [email protected]
© P.G. Barnett, 2020. All Rights Reserved.





