I once drove over five hours to watch a show because I had heard good things and wanted to introduce myself to the performer. We’re about the same age, have a similar approach to the mystery arts, and I wanted to connect on a professional level.

The show was mediocre at best. My wife - my ever patient, infinite amount of magic shows audience member of a wife - leaned over to me ten minutes in and mouthed the words “I’m bored.”

I was, too.

It just wasn’t a good show. It didn’t captivate me and I didn’t leave feeling differently about anything than when I walked in. In fact, until I started writing this post this week I hadn’t thought about that show since we attended.

But the show wasn’t the part that bothered me. It was the way the performer treated me afterwards. I viewed us as mutual performers - colleagues, if you will. I wasn’t putting either one of us on a pedestal. We both had our credits and respective projects. We were equals.

So I introduced myself and he said he knew me and had heard good things. All cordial, all good. And I said I would send him my number so we could connect and I would show him around Chicago the next time he passed through.

The day after, I shot off a thank you message for the show and my cell number so we could connect down the road. 

I never got a response back. I still haven’t.

That’s what really bugged me.

It seems these days that everyone has advice they want to offer. I have friends in their early twenties posting words of wisdom on Twitter, as if they already have it all figured out. Social media gives everyone a platform to be an expert.

As a performer I receive a ton of advice - good and bad - from other performers, teachers, parents, friends, and even audience members. I keep a folder on my hard drive of the quotes and ideas people have shared with me and all I’ve learned from the advice I’ve collected is that nobody has a fucking clue.

Everyone likes to pretend they have it all figured out. They post quotes and share deep thoughts like it’s an epiphany that will connect the dots for everyone else in the world. Those quotes may look really good on a greeting card but most of them are dead wrong. It’s just a way of looking busy, of posturing so you can seem important.

I try to take the opposite route. I rarely give advice. If people ask me about something I don’t know, then I tell them I don’t know. If people ask me about how to become a mind reader then I tell them the basics and that I’m still figuring it out myself. I tell them it takes time and it’s a lifelong pursuit. I don’t pretend to be a prodigy or a “self-proclaimed expert”.

So let’s break it down. Here’s some of the worst advice I’ve ever received:

• Do What You Love And You’ll Never Work A Day In Your Life - Not true. If you do what you love, you’ll end up working more than you ever thought possible. You’ll work 80 hours a week, weekends, and evenings. Not because you love it but because there’s no other option. And yes, it will be work. You’ll balance the books and design websites. You’ll send invoices and chase clients for money they owe you. And occasionally you’ll get to do the thing you’re passionate about. But don’t pretend you’ll never work a day in your life. That’s simply not true.

• Have A Backup Plan So You Have Something To Fall Back On - A lot of people told me a theater degree was a waste and I should double major in something. The suggestion was usually Business or Entrepreneurship. But I didn’t want to be a businessman. I wanted to be an artist. I realized that if I had a fall back plan then I would most likely fall back on it. So I didn’t give myself a safety net. I decided to set my sights on one thing and never wavered.

• You’re Only As Good As Your Last Show - Some performers I know like to say this phrase as a reminder that you need to give a good show each and every time. I don’t agree. I think you’re only as good as the sum total of all of your shows. There will be bad shows and good shows, but it’s the impact you leave over the breadth of a career that matters. You can’t give a bad show on Thursday and suddenly say that the standing ovation you got on Wednesday night is moot. One show can’t make or break a career.

Those are just a few pieces of advice I’ve heard over and over again. The best way to handle those moments was summed up perfectly by Robert Downey, Jr. when he said “Listen. Smile. Agree. And then do whatever the fuck you were going to do anyway.”

The best thing I’ve learned about advice is that you don’t need it. If you want something badly enough, you’ll figure it out. Yes, people will give you really useful tips on doing your taxes or buying the right car. But when they get into all that over-the-top “hustle-mentality”, “create-your-best-life”, “you-can-do-anything-you-want-if-you-set-your-mind-to-it” mumbo jumbo, they have no idea what they’re talking about.

Just do you. And know that they’re just as scared as you are.

Oh yeah, I guess there is one piece of advice I can give you.

Always return people’s messages. You never know when you’re going to need something from that person in return. And if you don’t, they just might write a blog about you someday.