No DM, No Family, Just Boobs: Your Unfiltered Writing Secrets

Unsolicited writing wisdom: Ditch plans, grab attention, respect the boobs, nail your titles, and never let your family turn your fiction into facts.

Oh, you didn’t ask? That’s cute. I’m still gonna tell you. Nobody’s sliding into my DMs begging for my writing secrets. But IF they did, I’d be like, “Alright, what’s up?” And if this fictional person was like, “How do you write so much?” I’d say, “Oh, easy. Cancel your plans, ghost your group chats, ignore your phone, and skip therapy.” (But like… don’t quit therapy. That’s a whole other issue.) You didn’t ask how to spiral. You asked how I crank out this much writing. Oh wait — you didn’t ask. And yet, here we are.

Oh, you wanna get more reads? Easy — just slap boobs in the title. No guarantees, but trust me, numbers will go up. It’s not a long-term strategy, though. More like a Band-Aid, not open-heart surgery.

But listen, if your article is called “Yay! Boobs!” and it’s actually about Tesla, you better be talking about Tesla’s boobs. Or, like, how Tesla feels about ageing and gravity doing its thing. Don’t just throw boobs, tatas, and melons in there for clickbait if you’re not gonna deliver. If boobs naturally fit into your story (figuratively or literally), add ’em. If they hold the plot up like a good push-up bra, go for it.

But don’t betray the boobs. Nobody wants to click expecting a titillating tale and end up reading about electric engine warranties. That’s a crime. That’s how you lose readers.

Even your mom will be like, “Nah, I’m out.” So yeah, attention-grabbing titles are great. But don’t lie. Fake news is bad, but fake boobs (in the metaphorical sense) are worse. Don’t count on your family to hype you up. This isn’t your nephew’s charity fun run — it’s your grown-up dream, and your relatives care about that about as much as they care about your existential crisis or your latest beef with Aunt Linda. Honestly, it’s better if they don’t read your stuff. That’s a dangerous game.

Because next time you show up to a family BBQ, someone’s gonna be like, “So, Emily, I heard you went windsurfing topless and got attacked by a shark!” And you’re sitting there like… I said what now?

Oh yeah, you wrote that. Most “non-fiction” is like… 79% fiction. (I just made that up, but see? Feels real.) Strangers reading your work? Safe. Friends and family? A liability. You do not want your artistic bullshit turning into family lore. Take me, for example. I write about boobs. The other day, my brother texted me, “So… you like boobs?” Sir, what do I even do with that? Do I like them? Do I love them? That’s not the point! But I put it out there, and now my brother is reading it. Mistakes were made.

Now I’m wondering if my brother’s question is gonna stick. Am I about to become the aunt, sister, wife, daughter, or grandma who was way too into boobs? Like, “Oh yeah, Great-Aunt Amy — certified lunatic.

Obsessed with the boobies.” Titles matter. They’re the clickbait of real life. They’re like a low-cut top, booty shorts, a killer smirk, or that one rumour about you from high school that still won’t die. They hook people in. But you better deliver. You can’t hand a salmon a peanut butter sandwich when it comes to the minnow. That’s just rude. If no one’s reading your stuff, switch up the title — but make it accurate.

Don’t just slap “Gwyneth Paltrow’s Nipples” on there and expect the internet to start raining cash. Lead with the truth. But if all else fails… maybe learn a thing or two about boobs.

The Bottom Line

So, what have we learned today? Titles matter. Boobs sell (but only if you follow through). Family will misinterpret your work. And if you want to write more? Cancel plans, ignore texts, and embrace the chaos. But most importantly — don’t fake the boobs, don’t fake the story, and for the love of good writing, don’t let your weirdest takes become your family legacy.

Now go forth and write something worth the click.