Advice Is Stupid

Is teaching writing to adults also stupid?

I’m going to tell you something unflattering. Back in 2015, my favorite day of teaching Sketch 101 at UCB was the eighth and final session. Per the curriculum, I was to leave thirty minutes at the end for “questions.” I salivated in the teacher’s lounge waiting for that half hour. Because for thirty glorious minutes, I got to give advice.

I gave so much advice. I gave advice about how to get on Maude Night, about what books to read to be a better writer, about how to get an agent. Whatever questions my students asked, I had a long-winded, complicated answer that was mostly me talking about myself.

At their heart, all of the questions were variations of: how do I get a job in television?

My actual answer: I have no idea. If I did, I would probably not be teaching this class.

I know lots of people who have jobs in television. Most of them worked very hard and also knew someone who already had a job in television who helped them. I could not tell you how to replicate any of their success. Trust me, I have tried. Did this stop me from giving the advice? No. It did not. I loved feeling like what I said mattered in that eighth class. God, nothing feeds an ego like telling people what to do.

These are the only examples of teachers in my 20-month-old’s books. The Old Lady and Teacher Teacher. The Old Lady is clearly very good at teaching writing. Or is she? Maybe Flora just gets it.

Agnes Callard, a philosopher from UChicago, often speaks about how advice is stupid. Situations are so unique, and advice is so broad, that the gap between the two renders advice meaningless. Worse, I finally realized, it can be harmful. For example, an independently wealthy student needs way different advice than a student who doesn’t have family money. Giving them the same advice could actually hurt the student who needs to work.

Thanks to Callard, I’ve come to realize that advice is not something I want to be a part of.  Now when people ask me how to succeed in showbiz, I try to calm my ego down and say, “I’m not sure. I think it’s mostly who you know.” And lately, I’m not entirely certain where advice leaves off and teaching writing to adults begins.

In the first two sessions of my class, I lecture about how to write a pilot. I have extrapolated this lecture from my own journey about how to write a script. It’s less “Here’s how to write a pilot,” and more, “Here’s how I understand how to write a pilot.” I make this disclaimer during my lecture. And even if I’m not giving my students a perfect blueprint of how to write a script, I comfort myself by knowing that most students really just want deadlines.  I’m sort of besides the point.

But I’ve started to wonder if I should lecture at all? I’m not saying that teachers don’t have value. Obviously you have to teach children how to read and do math.  But teaching adults writing…I think it may all be advice!!  Like my students themselves, every story is different and must be written in a different way. I’ve had so many students say to me at the end of my class that they only now understand the lecture. And if writing is always something that you figure out by doing, why am I trying to teach them?

My daughter walked into my parents’ house, immediately walked over to this statue, pointed and said, “teacher!” So I suppose, in my daughter’s eyes, being a teacher means having your hair back in a bun.

A step further, I wonder if even giving students notes on scripts is bad!? Theoretically once I start giving notes on their specific stories, I’m moving from the realm of advice to coaching. I do think a lot of the time I can help them make their script better, but that’s often only to my taste, if I’m being honest. It’s as subjective as career advice- I don’t know what they want for their characters! Philosophically, I’m not sure I should ever give anyone notes!

Should I make my classes supportive cheerleading sessions where I exist solely for deadlines and rah-rahing? So that writers can figure out how to write by writing alone? Is that what adult writing classes should be?

Ultimately, I am not going to do this. Partially because I don’t think people would pay me as much if I just showed up and said “rah rah.” But there is a philosophical saving grace here! There’s value in learning how to not take advice. If you ever sell what you write, you’re going to get notes from the person buying it. An exec will tell you they want your story to change in X way. You make the exact changes they ask for. And when you turn it in, they don’t like it because they really wanted something else but didn’t know enough about your story to express themselves clearly. Part of your job as a writer is to understand what the note behind a note is, to trust your instincts about advice.

There’s been many times I’ve given students notes, only to have them take the notes exactly and come back with a worse draft. That’s always partly on me, but they also need to learn not to follow advice like instructions. When I’m teaching, what I’m really saying is: I’M A HACK! A MERE ADVICE-GIVER! DON’T LISTEN TO ME! UNLESS…something resonates and YOU think it will make your script better. Your screenplay is yours- you and you alone are the protector of the story, the arbiter of what is good for the pages.

That’s the feeling I want to have with my whole life in general. I’m in charge. I’m confident enough to be the gatekeeper of the advice I hear. Because people will give it to me whether I like it or not (if you want to see this in action open Instagram or walk into suburban Target with a toddler). I want to be wise enough to know when I hear something that’s a genuinely good idea.

I respect myself enough to trust that I can do that. And I respect my students, too. So the teaching continues! I just want to remember, the next time I’m a student, that it’s up to me what I learn.