How to Know Whether to Take Someone’s Advice

Especially When Everyone Has a Platform Now

An author and I were talking recently about the state of things—how the publishing world has shifted, and how we both hope the pendulum might eventually swing back. Less contests. More connection. Less performance-based content. More genuine conversation.

She said something that stuck with me: Even if the industry does shift back toward engagement over contests, how are authors supposed to know who to listen to?

It’s a good question.

And while I’m no crystal ball of perfect answers (really, I promise), I have been thinking about this one for a long time.

A Story From My Workshop Days

Back when I used to lead in-person workshops, I’d open every session the same way:
"Quick poll—who googled me before coming in?"

Hardly anyone ever raised a hand.

Which always cracked me up, because I was standing there with a bag full of candy, often mistaken for the intern, waiting for someone to ask when the real editor would arrive.

Then I’d start the session with lesson #1—maybe the most important of all.

"You missed your shot."

I said it kindly. But I meant it.

I could have been the exact editor you were looking for. Someone who takes pitches on the spot. Someone who’s genuinely interested in helping. But because you didn’t look me up, didn’t check, didn’t come prepared—you missed it.

And in publishing, those chances don’t come around often.

That was the real lesson. In an industry where so little is in your control, the one thing you can control is how you show up. Do your homework. Know who’s in the room. Know who you’re talking to—and what they actually do.

Because otherwise? You might be taking advice that was never meant for you. Or worse, advice that shouldn’t be given at all.

Just Because Someone Can Speak Doesn’t Mean They Should

We’re in an era of endless information. It’s easier than ever to put out a post, call yourself a coach, host a webinar, or run a critique session.

That doesn’t mean the people doing it are qualified.

Good feedback isn’t just about being smart. It’s about knowing how to read context. It’s about getting outside your own preferences, experiences, and assumptions. It’s about offering perspective without erasing voice.

That takes nuance. It takes practice. It takes the kind of listening that doesn’t come naturally to everyone.

And in rooms full of strangers—or behind the safety net of anonymous feedback—that bar can get dangerously low.

How Do You Know Who to Trust?

Some quick filters I suggest:

• Have they worked with books like yours?
  Genre, voice, structure, tone—these matter. Advice that works for high-concept thrillers doesn’t always translate to quiet literary stories.

• Have they been in the position you’re aiming for?
  Published author? Agent? Editor at a traditional press? Freelance editor who’s seen both sides? Someone who knows the road you’re on can help you navigate it better.

• Do they ask questions before offering advice?
  This one’s key. Anyone who launches into critique without first understanding your goals, audience, or stage of work is offering generic feedback, not tailored insight.

• Does what they say resonate on a gut level—but also make you think?
  The best advice doesn’t flatter or flatten. It pushes you. Gently. It sharpens your clarity. You don’t have to agree with every word—but you should feel like your story’s potential is seen.

When in Doubt, Get a Second Opinion

If you get feedback that leaves you spinning—especially anonymous feedback from a contest, a workshop, or a critique group—don’t panic. And don’t take it as gospel.

Get a second opinion from someone you trust. A critique partner. A mentor. An editor. Someone who knows your goals and your voice.

Because at the end of the day, you are the author. The choices are yours.

But good advice can light the way.

Just make sure you know who’s holding the flashlight.