The Writing Racket
On earning from writing about writing | A short story
Nigel Periwinkle sat in his apartment in Venice Beach, staring at the laptop screen, trying to come up with another bullshit headline about making it as a writer. The coffee next to him had gone cold three hours ago.
His agent, Jerry, called around noon. "How's the novel coming?"
"It's not," Nigel said.
"Still doing that internet thing?"
"That internet thing paid sixty-eight thousand last month."
Silence on the line. Then Jerry said, "You're kidding me."
"I wish I was." Nigel looked at the latest post he'd written: '10 Ways to Turn Your Words into Cash.' Pure garbage, but the rubes ate it up.
"What exactly are you selling these people?"
"Hope," Nigel said. "Same as you used to sell me."
The whole thing had started two years ago when Nigel was tending bar at The Sidewalk, serving drinks to wannabe screenwriters. He'd been broke, his literary novel sitting untouched on his hard drive. Then he'd noticed how many writing blogs were out there, all of them promising the secret to success.
So he'd started one of his own.
Called it "Writers Writing to Win at Writing." Stupid name, but it worked. People signed up. Paid for his courses. Bought his ebooks. Most of them were like he used to be—dreaming of writing the next great American novel, but ready to settle for making rent.
The secret? Tell them they could do what he was doing. Sell other writers the dream of selling other writers the dream. Like one of those pyramid schemes his mother used to fall for, except legal. Barely.
His neighbor Rachel, an ex-cop turned thriller writer, saw through it right away.
"You're running a con," she said one night at the bar.
"No," Nigel said. "A con implies I'm lying. Everything I tell them is true. They really can make money teaching other people how to make money teaching other people how to make money."
"Jesus," Rachel said. "You actually believe that?"
Nigel shrugged, ordered another drink. "Belief's got nothing to do with it."
He had a system now. Every morning he'd write the same advice, just worded different. Use words like "leverage" and "monetize." Add bullet points. Promise them they were five steps away from quitting their day jobs.
Some of his students actually made it. Started their own newsletters, their own courses. Built their own little kingdoms in the writing-about-writing business. Most didn't. Most kept paying him monthly, hoping the next secret would be the one that changed everything.
His phone buzzed. Text from Jerry: Got an editor interested in your novel. Real publisher, real advance.
Nigel looked at his laptop screen. At the half-finished post about "building your writing funnel." Then at his bank balance.
He texted back: Not interested.
Jerry replied: You're killing me.
"Yeah," Nigel said to his empty apartment. "I'm killing me too."
He went back to his laptop. Started typing: "Why Every Writer Needs a Personal Brand." The cursor blinked at him like it was in on the joke.
Through his window he could see the ocean. Sometimes he thought about moving somewhere quiet. Writing something real. But then another payment would hit his account, and he'd remember why he stayed.
His phone buzzed again. Rachel: Drinks?
Nigel: Can't. Gotta finish this post about how to make it as a writer.
Rachel: Ever think about actually writing something?
Nigel didn't reply. Opened his email instead. Twenty new messages from aspiring writers, all asking the same question: How do I make it?
He knew the answer they wanted. The answer that would keep them coming back. The answer that paid his rent and kept him in decent whiskey.
So he started typing it out, one more time, knowing they'd believe it because they needed to believe it. Just like he used to.
The cursor kept blinking. The ocean kept rolling. And Nigel kept selling the same dream, over and over, like a dealer who'd gotten hooked on his own supply.
Thanks for reading.
Question: What’s your view on all the writing advice Substacks? Do they provide a valuable service or are they just a racket that sucks your time and, in some cases, dips in your wallet?
Writing advice Substacks can be hit or miss. Some offer a few solid insights, but a lot of them just recycle the same old tips like “show, don’t tell,” “write every day,” etc. without any depth. Some even feel like thinly veiled sales pitches, feeding off self-doubt to sell courses or products.
For me, once the advice machine kicks in, I tune out. Writing isn’t one-size-fits-all, and too much advice can kill your creativity. I’d rather focus on writing, reading, and learning by doing than drowning in tips that often feel more distracting than helpful.
Well done. As someone who's consumed more "how to write better" articles, books, courses, and videos than I care to admit, the best advice I've received--from a "real" English professor at UCLA is "Ass In Seat...Brain Engaged...Hands Moving....Lunch...Read...Rewrite."