Write What You Don't Know

Jail

Why It's Better to Write About It Than Do It

They say, "Write what you know," but let’s tweak that a little: Write what you’re glad you didn’t do.

Imagine this: You’re in a coffee shop, debating whether to confront the person loudly slurping their latte. Sure, you could unleash your inner vigilante and make a scene, but then you’d be the subject of someone else's Instagram post, titled "When Karen Strikes."

Instead, you channel your rage into a short story. Now, the slurper is a spy using Morse code to communicate with their double agent! Who needs awkward apologies when you’ve crafted a thrilling espionage tale?

Writing lets you explore the "what ifs" of life without the messiness of consequences. Want to rob a bank? Writing about it saves you the trouble of learning how to disable security cameras and dodge the FBI. Plus, your version of the heist will be much cooler—no ski masks that keep slipping or accidentally dropping your fake gun.

And let’s talk morality. If you write about murder, you don’t need to worry about the guilt, the logistics of hiding the body, or your DNA being everywhere. You can sit back, guilt-free, and let your villain deal with the fallout.

The beauty of writing is that you get all the catharsis of doing the thing without the jail time, awkward consequences, or moral dilemmas. Sure, your character might burn bridges, break laws, or confess their deepest secrets, but you get to close your laptop and eat a snack.

So next time you're tempted to "just go for it," remember: writing it is cheaper than therapy, safer than crime, and infinitely more entertaining than explaining yourself later.

---

DID YOU MISS BETTY? ( a continuing story)

By Liz Dubelman

The investor's interest ignited a spark in Betty’s mind. She leaned in, locking eyes with the man across the table.

“I’m glad you think so. WinWin isn’t about chaos; it’s about creating an opportunity for individuals to leave a legacy—on their terms. We’re not talking about mindless destruction here. Every ‘match’ will undergo rigorous vetting, with background checks, psychological assessments, and a verified commitment to ethical intent. This isn’t just an app; it’s an ecosystem of accountability.”

Another investor, a woman with sharp glasses and sharper instincts, raised her hand. “But how do you market this without being labeled as... well, the Tinder of vigilantes?”

Betty was prepared. She flipped to a slide on her pitch deck that read: Purpose-driven actions for a purpose-starved world.

“We market it like a philosophy,” Betty explained. “A way to reclaim dignity, choice, and impact at the end of life. The people we’re targeting—terminally ill individuals who want to leave a mark—they don’t have time to play by society’s slow, unjust rules. And neither do the communities suffering under the weight of unchecked systemic failures. WinWin bridges that gap.”

The woman’s brow furrowed. “But it’s still murder, isn’t it? How do you plan to sidestep the law?”

Sheila, who had been sitting in the back of the room with her arms crossed, finally spoke up. “Think of it as a gray zone,” she said. “The app doesn’t facilitate illegal acts. It’s simply a matchmaking service. What users choose to do afterward is their business.”

The investors exchanged glances. The sharp-glasses woman smirked. “That’s quite a spin.”

Betty pressed on. “Look, nobody blinked when Black Mirror proposed a dystopian future where people rated each other’s lives like Yelp reviews. Now we’re living it. This isn’t any darker. It’s just more honest.”

The room buzzed with murmurs. One of the investors, a tech mogul notorious for his “move fast and break things” ethos, leaned forward. “I’ll bite. How much are you asking for?”

Betty exhaled, trying not to let the relief show. “We’re seeking $500,000 for a six-month development cycle, including legal consultation and marketing. We believe this will get us to a fully functional version 2.0.”

The mogul nodded. “I’m in for $250,000, contingent on seeing a clearer plan for minimizing liability. This idea is insane, but it’s the kind of insane that could go viral.”

Betty grinned. “Deal.”

The meeting wrapped, and Betty walked out with Sheila, who immediately turned to her, eyebrows raised. “You know this is going to implode spectacularly, right?”

Betty laughed. “Probably. But if it does, at least it’ll implode spectacularly on my terms.”

They returned to Sheila’s office, where the next phase began. The funding allowed Betty to hire a scrappy team of coders, legal consultants, and marketing strategists. Together, they refined WinWin, adding features like anonymized chat, secure video verification, and a quirky but oddly inspiring tagline: Live Bold. Die Significant.

The app’s beta launch was both a media sensation and a moral battleground. While critics called it “the end of civilization as we know it,” others saw it as a revolutionary take on personal autonomy. A few high-profile users began posting cryptic testimonials, fueling speculation and intrigue.

As the user base grew, Betty found herself navigating uncharted territory. WinWin was making waves, but it was also attracting scrutiny from law enforcement and ethical watchdogs. Each day brought new challenges—and new opportunities to refine her vision.

But Betty wasn’t backing down. “Every great idea has its moment of reckoning,” she told her team during a late-night brainstorming session. “Ours is coming. Let’s make sure we’re ready.”

And ready they were—or at least, they thought they were. Because when the first high-profile match made global headlines, the world wasn’t sure whether to be horrified, inspired, or both.