Instagram makes me feel like a farce
Dear Remy,
Do you think it's possible to be famous these days without being chronically online?
I love being a singer-songwriter, but social media makes me feel guilty. I have a social media manager who responds to fans with my “voice”, but it's not me: it's a digital ghost. People think I'm replying, but it's actually a 20-year-old who manages five other accounts. I feel fake.
The irony? My next album is about being true to yourself. How can I say this when I am not sincere in even my smallest interactions? Is this really the case now or could there be another way?
Your,
Connected and contrite
Dear connected and contrite,
Social media has certainly changed the way we connect with the public. It's difficult to reconcile the pressure of being available 24/7 with the desire to remain authentic. But here's a thought: Do you need to respond to every comment for your art to be meaningful?
You can interact with your fans without being chained to your phone. Focus on moments that feel genuine, whether through carefully curated responses or occasional direct interactions. You don't need to respond to every message to present yourself authentically. And mastering the perfect emoji won't help you write better songs.
The key is balance. Your fans follow you for your music, not your comments section. Stay true to the message of your album and make sure your online presence feels like an extension of it, rather than a contradiction.
Be as real as your lyrics and leave the 24/7 presence to the bots,
Remy
Illustration by Russ Tudor
Help! I can't stop saying “Yes”!
Dear Remy,
I'm on a major television show that focuses on improvisation, and first of all, I feel very lucky to have this job. All my brothers work in real estate, so I consider myself lucky to have never had to sell an apartment with dry rot and a bathtub that doubles as a reading nook.
But, Remy, I think improvisation can be a disease. The more I do this, the more the concept of “YES AND” has sunk into the depths of my being. You know what I'm talking about: the idea that an improviser must always say “yes” to whatever idea is thrown at them to keep the flow of a scene. I think this is why improvisers are considered overly positive people and why we don't get invited to many dinners.
“YES AND” has seeped into my daily life. I find myself agreeing with everything. A road trip through Appalachia in my friend's Ford Transit, which they turned into a home after watching too many TikTok videos about van life? “Yes, and I'll bring snacks.” A double date with a MAGA bimbo? “Yes, and the first round is on me.” A guest appearance at my friend's baby shower for her new Maine Coon? “Yes, and I'll sing 'Ain't She Lovely' by Stevie Wonder.”
It's a habit I can't break. I keep finding myself in situations that aren't “me” and I don't know how I got there. The other day, a friend asked me to polish his car. Suffice it to say, their car shines and I'm exhausted. I feel like taking a nap.
Your compulsive congeniality,
Too Good for “No”
Dear too good for no,
It seems like “YES AND” has taken up more space in your life than it should. While it is a brilliant tool on stage, it leaves you exhausted in your personal life. Have you considered that saying “no” might be a form of improvisation? Rejecting something could open up new possibilities, equally creative but less tiring.
We're often told that saying yes to everything will open us up to adventure, but you only have a certain number of hours in the day, regardless of what any productivity podcast might tell you. Use them consciously, not recklessly. Think of your program as a carefully curated Pinterest board, not an overflowing board at a frat house.
What might happen if you started replacing some “yes” moments with “no, but…”? This way, you're still open to opportunities while carving out time for yourself, which every artist needs. Improvisation is meant to enhance your creativity, not deplete your energy. Maybe the next scene you need to build is one where you finally take a nap.
Stay spontaneous, but leave some room to breathe,
Remy
I chose my friends' children and now they hate me
Dear Remy,
A strange side effect of working on reality TV for the last 25 years is that it seems to have made me lose touch with actual reality.
I'm currently overseeing a new fly-on-the-wall series that will focus on families with unruly children. Think American supernanny meet The Kardashiansalbeit with a smaller fake tan budget. We're busy casting, and as a hands-on executive, I've kept my eyes peeled for the perfect families.
So, it seemed too good to be true when I was invited to my friends' house for dinner. Their two children, aged 7 and 11, are like the offspring of Satan. During the cocktail hour, the youngest managed to injure a restaurant owner with a Tonka truck. At dessert, the major had shamed two guests and both had launched into an obscenity-laced reenactment of Yellowjackets.
At the end of the night, I pulled my friends aside and asked if they would like to come on the show. They were mortified. Apparently, they don't see their children as unruly, much less suitable for a show about misbehaving children. They haven't spoken to me since, despite the bunch of apologies I sent.
I realize now that I got overexcited and forgot that they are real people (with the amount of Botox they've had, it often feels like they're behind a filter). How can I repair the damage? And how can I maintain a healthier distance between my work and my personal life?
Your regret,
A reality check is needed
Dear necessary reality check,
It's easy to see how, in that moment, you got carried away. When you work in an industry that thrives on drama, it can be tempting to see every chaotic dinner as gold. But your friends were probably taken aback, and perhaps embarrassed, by the suggestion that their kids belonged on reality TV. They probably imagine their children becoming doctors or, worse, presidents.
How can you reconnect with them on a human level? Maybe start with a sincere apology that doesn't involve flowers or food, but just a genuine conversation where you can explain your excitement and reassure them that your friendship matters more than the next casting decision. Can you remind them of the best times you spent together, especially those involving children, if you can bear to reflect on those moments?
If that fails, perhaps try a different approach: their little ones clearly have chutzpah and energy, perhaps they would appreciate your guidance in cultivating their creative tendencies. Flattery takes you everywhere. Maybe you can help them find drama or screenwriting classes to channel their energy into. Just get them away from the blood: less Yellowjackets, more Big Bird.
As for the future, remember that not all real-life scenarios are made for television. Be a human being first and foremost. Just because someone's life seems “TV-worthy” doesn't mean they want it to be filmed.
Good luck getting back on your friends' good side,
Remy
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Remy Blumenfeld is a veteran television producer and founder of Vitality Guru, which offers business and career coaching to top performers in media. Send questions to: guru@vitality.guru.
Questions by Sarah Mills.