Silence the Brag. Speak the Truth

Presence Over Profit. Love Over Metrics

Photo by Ian Schneider on Unsplash

I remember when this all began — when blogging was raw, personal, not yet a path to income. Before the platforms. Before the playbooks. Back then, people found ways to earn — ads, affiliate links, whatever worked. It wasn’t polished, but it was real.

Then came the income reports. A new kind of sharing, dressed up as transparency. “Here’s how much I made,” they’d say. “Here’s how you can, too.”

The message was clear: if you just follow the steps, you can win the game. But I’ve stopped listening. I’ve unfollowed the feeds, tuned out the noise.

Not because I don’t care about making money. I do. We all do — we write here hoping to earn something back. A little or a lot. But I don’t need another post telling me how well someone else is doing.

Because I’ve learned: chasing numbers is not the same as creating value. And bragging is not the same as truth.

We feel the jealousy. It stings. Then it passes.

The rest? We don’t care.

Chasing stats, clinging to numbers — it’s tired. The endless “how to make money” posts echo through an empty room.

We came here to write. Let’s not forget that.

We have ample guidance on creating content that attracts reads. Churn churn churn. Write, edit, publish. Every. Single. Day.

We’ve entered a real echo chamber.

Substance in writing has disappeared. Every article I click is a duplicate.

Okay, I’m exaggerating. Tantalizing Tales Publication shares fresh stories. The editors are my long time blogging friends.

Second, income statements aren’t roadmaps. What works for me won’t work for you. Or you. Or you in the back. I see you.

No one can replicate Eve Arnold, Tim Ferris or Derek Hughes. You’re not becoming the next James Clear. And I won’t become Sandra Brown.

I will always be Asrai Devin, smut peddler.
I’ll write what’s real — the stories that burn, the mistakes I’ve made, the nights I felt worthless.

And sometimes, I’ll share the light I’ve found along the way.

You need to be you. Tell your story. not emulate someone else’s.

I want to know about how you feel inferior, superior. Your fears, your failed dreams, and what arouses your senses.

I want to read your fantasies. And horror stories and most human moments.

That’s more interesting than showing me you made $100 million dollars.

Unless you became Dr. Evil and extorted a government.

Steph Smith’s writes in her Creating Content Online, when you create an original work, you must have a purpose. And not intent to garner more views.

We need more words that matter — not just content, but something that gives the reader a reason to breathe deeper.

We don’t need more noise. We need truth. Words with purpose, written for someone who needs them.

Please — stop sharing how much you made.
We don’t need proof.
We need presence.