Dear Sir:

Your blog giving advice on doing quality self-publishing is riddled with careless typos. This does not inspire confidence. Yours, PJ

Dear Madam:

Your failure to distinguish between a Viking boat & a pirate ship when discussing cover art does not inspire confidence. Yours, PJ

Dear Madam:

Your blithe suggestions on how to squeeze more time out of a busy life for writing has PRIVILEGE scrawled all over it. No confidence. Yours, PJ

And that’s about all the writing/indy publishing blogging advice I can stomach for one day. Why did I inflict this upon myself in the first place? Clearly, I’m a masochist. Oh, I think maybe I’ll learn something that will revolutionize my life, get my creative life back on track and running smoothly. But no. There isn’t anything in any of these blogs that couldn’t be figured out by a half-witted horse with dyspepsia.

They are all written with such twerpy exuberance, too—the exuberance of those who have spent little time in the salt mines, whose biggest challenge in life balance seems to be choosing between watching TV with the wubs vs. social networking vs. actual writing.

I try hard not to think in terms of moral superiority—my reality vs. your networking reality—because as the old saying goes, “Everyone’s bag of stones weighs heavy to them.” But there’s generally an undertone of moral superiority running through these blogs, too. Sometimes not an undertone, but an overt and snot-nosed tone, if you want to know the truth. It’s hard not to get all morally-superioritying back at them.

Yet still these blogs are passed back and forth between hopefuls as if there’s some talismanic magic attached to them. The sad truth is that most seem more about having a platform for selling books than genuinely trying to help anyone. But I open each new one with hope, cynicism firmly suppressed because…well, I would like a little talismanic magic right about now. Maybe there will be some golden piece of wisdom my gassy, half-witted horse hasn’t already shared with me.

You see, I really am a masochist. Bring on the leather, the whips and chains!

ETA: There is actually quite a bit of really good advice out there, too, but wading through the self-involved claptrap to get to it can be quite discouraging.