GNT #122: I'm taming my advice monster

read time: 4 minutes

People ask to pick my brain a lot.

It makes sense. I give marketing and growth advice for a living. It's kind of my thing.

I write this whole newsletter about it every week. You could say unsolicited advice is... on brand. 😉

But lately, I’ve noticed my mind jumping into advice or idea-giving — even when I'm not not asked. It’s become almost involuntary.

And if I’m being honest, it’s starting to take up more mindshare than I want it to. I also want to avoid crossing the line between supporting and steamrolling.

Giving advice isn’t bad.

But dropping it too early or too often can kill curiosity, shut down meaningful dialogue, and prevent the kind of conversation that leads to real insight.

I’m starting to believe that being great at what you do doesn’t mean offering solutions on demand. It means knowing when to step back to create space for clarity, trust, and shared growth.

So today, I’m sharing what I’ve learned about taming my advice monster. This one's for you, especially if advice is your craft.

Let’s dig in.

The problem with giving advice too fast

Michael Bungay Stanier calls it the Advice Monster — that reflex to jump in with answers before we’ve fully heard the question.

And he breaks it down into three big problems:

1. You’re solving the wrong problem.
   The first issue someone brings up is rarely the real issue. When you rush in with advice, you’re often aiming at the wrong target.

2. Your advice isn’t as good as you think.
   Harsh, but true. You don’t have the full context. And even if your advice is solid, it may not be the right fit for that person, in that moment.

3. You disempower the person you’re trying to help.
   Constantly offering answers sends the subtle message: “You can’t figure this out on your own.” That erodes trust, autonomy, and confidence.
   
   

The 3 advice monsters you might recognize

Stanier names three personas your advice monster might take on:

• Tell-It: You believe your value comes from having all the answers.

• Save-It: You think it’s your job to rescue everyone from discomfort or failure.

• Control-It: You feel safest when you're steering everything — even other people’s challenges.

I see myself most in Save-It.

I definitely feel that quiet, internal pressure to make things easier for others. To jump in with a fix asap. It comes from a good place — wanting to help, wanting people to succeed.

But for a long time, I saw my value in doing, solving, fixing, and achieving. If I wasn’t actively helping someone, it felt like I wasn’t doing enough.

But I’ve realized that in trying to “save” someone, I can unintentionally rob them of the exact struggle that would help them grow.

Each of these advice monsters says the same thing: I know better. And that belief — even when well-intended — breaks down trust and collaboration.

How I'm learning to tame my advice monster

I don't think the solution is to stop giving advice altogether. I think it’s learning how to pause the reflex — and stay present just a little bit longer.

That starts with awareness. I’m practicing catching myself in the moment — that internal itch to jump in, solve, offer, contribute.

It often shows up in small ways:

• A client starts describing a challenge and I feel my brain racing ahead.
• A friend vents about something and I catch myself formulating a fix before they even finish.

Now, instead of reacting right away, I’m trying a 3-second pause. (And 3 seconds is the loooongest time ever! 😱)

I literally take a breath and ask myself:

“Is this a moment to solve — or a moment to listen?”

If I’m not sure, I assume it’s time to listen.

And when I do speak, I’ve started using questions that create space instead of filling it:

• “What’s the real challenge here for you?”
  This slows everything down and helps surface what matters most.

• “And what else?”
  I’ll repeat this a few times — it’s crazy how often the third or fourth response is the real insight.

• “What do you want?”
  This helps people clarify their needs — without me shaping the outcome.

But my biggest intended change isn’t the questions. It’s my mindset behind them.

I’ve had to — and still have to — let go of the belief that my value lies in always being the one who moves things forward. Now, I see my role as someone who creates space for clarity, not someone who fills space with answers.

That means being willing to hold silence.
To let people sit in uncertainty a little longer.
To remind myself: the pause is productive. (!!)

And when I do offer advice, I try to ask for permission first:

“Want my thoughts, or just talking this through?”

Yes, sometimes they let me know they're just talking it out. And it makes me glad I asked.
 

Takeaway

Giving advice is part of what I do — and likely part of what you do, too.

Sometimes, solving is the next right step.

But I think doing it well starts with doing less of it by default — and more of it with intention.

So here’s the practice:
Start noticing when your advice monster shows up.

Pause.
Ask instead of answer.
Support before you solve.

Because people don’t always need solutions — sometimes, they just need someone willing to stay curious with them a little longer.

Let’s keep growing.

I’m always rooting for you. See you again next week.

If this resonated with you, forward it to someone who might need it today.

Whenever you're ready, there are 3 ways I can help you:

1. Need some team training and a plan to achieve purpose-driven growth? Let me lead a custom workshop for you. [Contact me here]

2. Want me to come speak at your event or meeting about one of my content topics? [Contact me here]

3. Want short, but meaty tips on growth systems for profit, purpose, and a meaningful life? [Follow me on LinkedIn]

If you liked this article, you might also like:

GNT #020: The 85% rule for doing your best work
GNT #027: 7 Secret Psychology Principles for Rapid Growth
GNT #081: I had a panic attack

If you were forwarded this, sign up to receive it each week here. It’s free. I never spam.

To read my full library of newsletters, click here.