Help, I need somebody . . .

Advice columnists have the weight of the world on their shoulders

Advice columnists have the weight of the world on their shoulders. Cast your eye over some of these little gems, so you've a better idea of what they have to deal with: "Why did my boyfriend turn out to be a big fat cheat?" (That question will keep philosophers and anthropologists baffled until the end of time.) "Is it okay to break off my relationship by text message or e-mail?" "My personal traumas have given me writer's block!" "My girlfriend's gone back to her ex!" "How can I get my best friend to speak to me again?" "Why, oh why, do I always feel like such a freak?"

It may - or may not - help, but I think we've all felt the latter at one time or another in our lives. (Hey! We're unique, that's all.) Whether your boyfriend is addicted to Internet chat rooms or you clam up when you're in the company of the girl you like, the chances are you could benefit from some tough talk or advice from one of the new wave of online advice columnists.

As the self-help, personal-development movement takes up residence on the Internet, there's no doubt that some are instructive, entertaining, educational - or all three. But which ones, and how can you possibly know where to begin?

First things first. Online advice columnists are less likely to be of the matronly Claire Rayner or Maeve Binchy ilk and more likely to be younger, web-savvy and painfully hip.

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Surprisingly enough, They are also just as likely to be male as female. (For instance, this writer's online advice column, www.worldweary.com employs the catchphrase: "No Agony. No Aunt.")

The advice-columnist's self-justifying creed: no matter how hopeless a situation appears, there should always be a solution. Although there's room for humour, we should always try to help readers to help themselves.

It's not rocket science. It's not counselling. It's not psychotherapy. It's common sense, logic, a bit of tough talk when we think it's necessary, perhaps a sprinkling of inspiring words to jolly everyone along and - if nothing else - an apparently "objective" viewpoint.

For those seeking advice, it's anonymous. And when you're assessing the qualities of a potential adviser, the internet offers a definite advantage: answers to previous questions, almost always available on-site, will give you the best heads-up on the quality of the advice. And technology also means it's easier and more instantaneous to e-mail a website rather than posting a letter. If nothing else, readers get a buzz by e-mailing a conundrum to see a tailor-made answer appear, as if by magic.

The king of online advice columnists was arguably the American humorous writer and broadcaster Garrison Keillor, who last month hung up his hat after years of doling out sensible and sensitive advice on www.salon.com.

After undergoing open-heart surgery, he decided to take his own advice by taking it easy. He will be sorely missed.

Looking back on his time as the much loved "Mr Blue", he said his strongest advice came down "on the side of freedom in our personal lives, freedom from crushing obligation and overwork and family expectations and the freedom to walk you own walk and be who we are".

"Some of the best letters have been addressed to younger readers trapped in jobs like steel suits, advising them to bust loose and go off and have an adventure," he reminisced on the site.

In fact, there is a whole slew of advice columnists out there who speak specifically to a younger audience. But for reasons of decorum and safety, you should not give your e-mail address and refrain from entering into private correspondence with the advice columnist.

Remember, anyone can establish an online identity. You may not know who you're dealing with. You could, for example, "Ask Ann". But you'd have to choose one, first.

"Ask Ann" Klein dishes out advice on relationships on www.askann.com. But there are more . many more. You could "Ask Ann" M. Martin on www.scholastic.com who gives parents and kids educational tips. She is, incidentally, pictured with her long-eared pup.

"Ask Ann" Rule on www.annrules.com gives would-be writers help on regaining their creative spirit. Or "Ask Ann" Murdock about "love, passion and sexuality". Whatever pushes your buttons.

There are Ask Anns of all shapes and sizes. "Ask Ann" Murphy on www.irelanduncovered.com/agony requires people to include their e-mail address for others to respond directly. This is a bad idea, as Ann says herself, if you are easily offended. (But putting your e-mail on the web may just be a bad idea, period.)

One established agony uncle Matt Whyman (32) receives up to 400 e-mails per week on www.aol.co.uk, 60 per cent of which are from teenage boys, he says. Considering advice columns traditionally attract female readers, this is an extraordinarily high response rate.

AOL tried out a few qualified counsellors, but it didn't work out, primarily because it blurred the lines between the two roles.

"I never tell anyone how to live their life," says Whyman, whose novel Man or Mouse looks at relationships and the internet. "It's all about myth-busting. Boys ask questions at a much later stage than girls. Girls are more emotionally equipped to ask for advice.

"I don't give personal responses, if only because it might compromise their safety, should a parent or someone else have access to the e-mail. I never tell them what to do. I set out the options or refer them to an organisation that can help. I'm not a counsellor. There's a time and a place for counselling and that's face-to-face."

A British student, Gordon McNevin (20) - aka "McDaddy" - gives his peers advice on a British site www.thecompletestudent.co.uk. A second-year student of business and IT at University College of St Martin's in Lancaster, McNevin also holds down a part-time job at his local pub.

"Most of the e-mails to 'McDaddy' are from students who fancy other students or are nervous about moving away from home for the first time to university," he says.

While some independent online advice columnists are free of charge, others are obviously angling for advertising and hope to turn their sites into a money-making venture. For online magazines or subscription-based e-mail servers, these are what's called "value-added services", a way to attract and maintain customers (aol.co.uk charges £15 sterling per month.)

McNevin gets 15p per "click-through commission" for traffic that goes from his site to a job-related website. "I got a cheque the other day for £30. It was the first one, but it's a start." He doesn't like the idea of "banner" ads on his site, but since it cost him just £50 sterling to set up the site, "I'm now just £20 off recouping my investment."

There are ways to give online advice, and ways not to. One now defunct columnist, billed with the unfortunate pseudonym of "Uncle Tom", advised one particularly unhappy customer to pray, rather than recommending professional counselling.

While there's nothing wrong with divine inspiration, "get down on your knees and pray" is an unsettling online euphemism for "your goose is cooked".