I must say, I love advice to writers. I admire its all-knowing style and crusading optimism. Of course, it's all lies—but so is most literature. I recommend Writer's Digest (www.writersdigest.com).

A good place to begin is the online "Writer's Tip of the Day." It's free, and full of generous suggestions. The day I looked, this feature was in the form of an interview, mysteriously uncredited. (Even more disturbing, it was labeled "From the Accelerated Fundamentals of Fiction Writing Workshop," possibly the worst-written title of any workshop I have ever seen.)

The interview commenced with an innocent question: "How do I get started writing fiction?" The bad advice began flowing immediately. The unidentified expert (labeled only as "A") answered: "The curiosity factor is the essence of all good storytelling. Make your reader care about nothing else in the world but what will happen next."

While this counsel is technically valid, it will aid no writer. Thinking of the Reader—that demanding, impatient tyrant—stops every pen. If I had to consider if I was losing the Reader, I would still be writing my first sentence. My advice is: "Screw the Reader!" Write to amuse yourself, and hope some editor likes it. As for readers, let them skip over your writing, and move on to the exciting stories after yours. (Here is a true insider's secret: Editors pay you, and the Reader does not!)

The questioner (identified as "Q") continues: "What do I write about?" "A" coyly responds with another question: "What do you like to read?" Then she (or he) adds: "If you have a passion for mysteries, write one. If you can't get enough of historical stories, write one."

No thanks! Personally, I read all sorts of entertaining trash—for example, the New York Post—but that doesn't mean I want to sit down and write the Post every day. I read (mostly) for fun, but I write for some other reason. What that reason is I am not entirely aware. (Perhaps some narcissistic wound during infancy?) Certainly, I am capable of devouring an entire Agatha Christie book, and the next day writing the poem:

Sentence
A headwaiter made headway in the headwind.

"Q" persists: "I want to write about something that really happened to me. Is that a good idea?" "A" responds, in a rather mystical vein: "Everything that happens to you and everything that you see happening to others is valuable writer's gold." (As opposed to "worthless writer's gold"?) "The Big Events—falling in love, breaking up, raising a child, losing a loved one—are all-important. They are the heart of much fiction."

Oy, those Big Events! Every poetry reading is filled with Big, Big Events, each of which strangely resembles all the other Big Events. I would much rather hear about Minuscule Events—e.g., a woman repairing her eyeglasses with Scotch tape.

Here is my Writer's Tip of the Day: Writers give terrible advice—including me!

—Sparrow