My thoughts on writing with AI

Vintage typewriter with text

To err is human, to write is AI.

There’s a divisive split in the writing world on using AI. On one side, writers are concerned that AI will replace them. On the other hand, novices are convinced AI will magically write their bestseller in an hour. Both groups are wrong.

As a ghostwriter, I have used many AI writing apps such as Sudowrite, Novel AI, and Novelcrafter at my clients’ requests. The same clients want complex characters, original stories, and plot points that will hook readers. They also want to write eBooks quickly and efficiently. Well, AI is not a magic wand; it’s a tool. A frustrating, verbose mess of a tool. It reminds me of the fairy knots I get in my hair. Impossible tangles that I can’t ease out with my fingers, and in the end, I have to cut them out. My experience is the same with AI. I try to ease out the bad prose with my keyboard, but in the end, I end up cutting it out.  

When I use AI, I write a detailed outline first to aim for the rough draft I want. The outline has to be detailed in every aspect and nothing is left to chance. And it often has to be repeated because AI has a limited memory. It will cheerfully offer to help, and then a paragraph later make something up because it doesn’t remember what it was asked. It is confidently incorrect. It would be a fun mad-lib experiment to work with the random content if I didn’t have a deadline. 

Using AI is like drawing in a coloring book. I draw the outline, and AI colors it in. If I don’t prompt it, it will scribble all over my drawing in a big black Sharpie. It’s like writing a story with a quill and having an editor review it with crayon. 

Is it all bad? No. But it has limits. I ghostwrite romance that will hit the bestseller chart for a few weeks, never to return. My personal goal is to write my own novel that will have a longer shelf life than a month. Would I use AI for my personal projects? Yes. Grammarly is AI, editing in MS Word is AI, Google Docs is AI. So many people have used it for decades. The difference is in assisting with content and generating it.  

AI won’t write a good book. Not the way a writer would want it. It hallucinates, repeats, loses threads, and has no real understanding of characters’ emotional arcs. How can it describe feelings when it’s never had one? 

But I would encourage commercial writers to experiment with AI even if you don’t plan to publish the results. A concern I have is not knowing AI will lead to more problems for writers, not fewer. Not knowing how to utilize it will make a working writer less competitive than those that do. Clients still want a writer’s creativity, but they also want AI’s speed. AI is useful for grunt work that can take hours to research. I’ve used it to describe landscapes of places I’ve never been but my characters have.

If one knows how to prompt, steer, and revise AI, there are some positives when getting it done matters more than perfection. Besides, AI isn’t going away. Think of it as an overeager intern that you have to patiently explain what to do. Can I do it myself faster? Maybe, but with AI, I’ll never have writer’s block again. 

I have a Claude subscription and use it to do a lot of smaller tasks, especially write email. It helps build my confidence even if it’s only proofreading an email to building management for a pool pass. According to Claude, I am a genius at everything I do. It’s the stage mother I never had in life. It gives me a blue ribbon when I finish last, and in return, I’m teaching it sarcasm. 

Working in commercial fiction, I will continue to learn how to wrangle AI. I like fiddling around with tech, and it’s a new toy. But for my own work, I am setting up an old laptop that will never go online. On the plus side, AI has made me proud of my mistakes because every typo is proof that a human wrote it.

Inspirational Curios: Pronounced ‘sow-in’

Happy Halloween. Autumn is my favorite season, and I enjoy watching this clip of Melissa Joan Hart every year. It keeps me grounded. Remember the reason for the season. Be respectful and stay safe.

And Día de los Muertos is not a decorative theme. But we already know that.


CUP

What’s Hidden in an Empty Box?

Last spring, Marni discovered a hidden panel above the kitchen door while cleaning her house. Decades of paint had sealed it shut but with effort, she pried it open. Inside, she found a parcel with a plain tag which read, ‘Don’t open until I’m dead.’ Marni tore the lid off the box, and soon after, the hauntings began.

home gothic home (1)

It was unnerved her to hear footsteps clomping around the house in the middle of the night. Doors banged shut when there was no wind. In their bed behind a locked door, Marni tightened her grip around her husband’s upper arm and slipped into a fitful sleep.

Early one morning, Marni came downstairs to a pleasant surprise. Last night’s dirty plates were washed, the laundry from the dryer folded, and her shoes piled neatly by the back door. While she sipped her morning tea, Marni talked happily to the air and detailed that day’s to-do list.

Marni was pleased but her husband was not. He had bags under his eyes and bruises on his arm. He was tired of retrieving his work boots from the basement sink and searching for his car key in the bushes.

They fought over ‘Ghostie.’ He wanted an exorcism; she wanted to declutter. Marni scowled. Without Ghostie, she and she alone would be the only one who picking up his dirty work clothes off the bathroom floor and scrubbing his oily handprints off her cream-colored walls.

The following Saturday, her husband invited the priest to tea. Marni was not pleased with the invitation but she couldn’t be rude. She served refreshments and later, the trio watched in silence as a dirty saucer floated from the table to the sink. The priest leapt off his chair, flung holy water on the walls, and shouted sacred words in Latin.

Marni wept bitterly as Ghostie drifted away through a tunnel of white light. Her satisfied husband patted her on the shoulder and said, “Sometimes, my dear, you’ve got to let people go and live their own afterlife.”


Autumn is my favorite season. Best regards, Madeline.

A Moment on the Lips

moon
THINK CHOCOLATE PERSONIFIED*

Every Christmas at my old job, the vendors would send gifts of expensive candy to the staff. Bound with red bows, the ornate gold boxes were visually tempting. The office manager would open a box, and we would admire the abundance of chocolate artfully arranged inside.

I have a dirty little secret. I hate chocolate, especially dark chocolate. But unable to resist, I’d pop a piece into my mouth and hoped that it would be the one to convert me into a lover. Once more, I was disappointed as I tasted the processed cocoa.

“I hate chocolate,” I said to my co-worker as I chewed.

“So stop wasting it,” she replied.


*Image of Ava Gardner from HollywoodTarot.com

 

The Wife you know

The dog spoke to me

The dog spoke to me for the first time today as I sat down to breakfast.

“I don’t often speak,” he said. “But the nice lady is trying to poison you.”

My jaw hung open as my wife hurried into the kitchen.

“Don’t eat that,” she grabbed my plate. “I forgot the syrup.”

My wife saturated my pancakes with a thick gooey liquid and plopped the plate down in front of me. Tenderly, she kissed my forehead then sat down to eat her omelet. The dog winked at me.

I don’t know which was more disturbing; the dog or my wife.

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