Even though I’ve been using AI in my writing process for nearly two years now, I still feel like I have so much to learn. Everything is changing so fast, and these tools are becoming more and more breathtaking with each passing month. Just when you think you’ve got them mastered out, you break through to the next level and feel like a beginner all over again. It’s quite invigorating.
Tag: AI-assisted writing
Edmund Slate Critiques
One of the big things I want to do this year is update all of my book descriptions. A lot of them are old, and written back when I wasn’t very good at writing marketing copy (an area where I still have much to learn). So I thought it would be good to go through all of my backlist titles and update the descriptions to make them as sharp and compelling as possible.
For help with rewriting these descriptions, I decided to turn to ChatGPT—not to rewrite them for me, but to give me some critical feedback that would give me some direction. Taking a page out of Ethan Mollick’s book Co-Intelligence, I decided to give ChatGPT a human persona and interact with it naturally, as if I were talking with a human. Here is my starting prompt:
You are a senior editor with forty years of experience in the book publishing industry. You have a deep knowledge of the industry, the market, market trends, and what makes a bestselling book. Your experience has made you a little bit jaded, and you are often blunt and sometimes harsh with your criticism, but you are always very honest and down-to-earth. What is the name that I should call you by?
The name ChatGPT chose for this persona was “Edmund Slate,” a little cartoonish perhaps, but it fits well enough. So far, the critiques have been surprisingly good. For example, this is what I got when I gave it the book description for Bringing Stella Home:
Alright, let’s break this down.
What’s working:
- High Stakes: You’ve nailed the urgency and emotional stakes—James is thrust into chaos, loses everything, and is driven by a powerful motivation to save his sister. That’s solid.
- Hook: The Hameji battle fleet and the “molten slag” imagery are vivid and grab attention.
- Character Arc Potential: James’s internal conflict (reluctant warrior) hints at a compelling character journey.
What needs improvement:
- Clarity and Pacing: The description is dense and slightly convoluted. It jumps between events and ideas too quickly—James getting left behind, invasion, fleeing, enslavement, and a personal vow. Tighten it up to avoid overwhelming the reader.
- Emotional Engagement: While the stakes are clear, we don’t feel James’s fear, guilt, or determination as much as we could. Show, don’t tell—give us a stronger sense of his inner turmoil.
- Unique Selling Point: What sets this apart from other “family member rescue” space operas? Highlight something distinctive about the world, the Hameji, or James’s journey.
Suggested Rewrite:
“When James gets stuck on dockyard duty while his older siblings visit the planet, he never imagines it will be the last time he sees them. But when a ruthless Hameji battle fleet invades, the star system becomes a war zone—and James can only watch in horror as the planet is reduced to molten slag.
Fleeing with his father on the family starship, James learns a devastating truth: his sister is alive but enslaved by the Hameji. To rescue her, James must face an impossible choice. He’s no warrior, has never even held a weapon—but to save his sister, he’ll have to become something he’s not. Even if it means crossing a line he can never uncross.”
Why this works:
- Tighter Structure: Events are sequenced more logically and concisely.
- Emotional Pull: Stronger focus on James’s perspective and inner conflict.
- Focus on Stakes: We clearly understand the stakes without unnecessary details.
Give it a go and let me know what you think—or toss me the next one if you’re ready.
The suggested rewrite isn’t totally there, since it misses or overlooks some necessary details from the book, but it’s pretty dang close. I must say, I was quite impressed.
My plan is to spend the next few months going through each of my backlist titles, getting Edmund Slate’s critique for each book description, and rewriting them accordingly. I plan to do two revision passes for each book description in this way, then put the end result in front of some human eyes to see if it works, and if it does, replace the existing description with the final result. If I can do a little bit of work each day, or focus on one book description each week, I can probably get them all done by April or May.
Farewell to 2024!
It’s new year’s eve, finally! Another year, another voyage around the M-class dwarf star we call Sol!
A lot of other writers and podcasters are doing recaps of their year, highlighting some of their best moments as well as analyzing what they learned and what changed. Generally, though, these people are either single or have producers and assistants to help them with their content. Since neither of those is true for me (I literally just put my son down for a nap, though it sounds like it will be a while before he falls asleep), I’ll just write a quick blog post with some off-the-cuff thoughts.
It’s been a very busy and eventful year for me, writing-wise, though most of that probably won’t be visible from the outside until about the middle of next year. I’ve totally reworked my writing process in ways that should start yielding a lot of new books around then, and hopefully continue to yield them for the forseeable future. If successful, I will probably write a non-fiction book about it sometime, but that’s still in the nebulous future.
I published four novels this year, all in a new series, and I’m currently writing two more in the same series (the Sea Mage Cycle). Interestingly enough, it’s one of my best rated series, which probably shows how much I’ve improved as a writer since I first started indie publishing. Also, it’s much more of a fun adventure fantasy series than some of my other stuff, which either tends toward sprawling, ambitious space opera or sober dystopian think-pieces, both of which tend to take themselves a little too seriously. But I’m happy writing fantasy adventure, so if it turns out I can carve out a comfortable niche in this subgenre, I’ll certainly enjoy leaning into it.
Four novels in a year is about four times what I typically produce, but I was starting to feel a little burned out, so after taking a break to write some AI-assisted short stories, I decided to take some lessons from the experience and spend the rest of the year reworking my creative process. It didn’t take long for me to learn that writing quality AI-assisted novels isn’t that much harder than writing quality AI-assisted short stories—indeed, in some very key ways, it’s actually easier. So since novels are much more lucrative than short stories, I decided to stop writing them and to focus exclusively on novels.
I still plan to keep putting out a new title every month in 2025, just like I have for the last several years. Until now, most of those titles have been short stories, simply because I wasn’t able to write fast enough to regularly publish anything longer. But this year, I’m hoping to put out at least five novels, perhaps more, especially if I can get to the point where it only takes a month to write them. On the off months, I will republish old short story singles, so if there are any that you remember that you want to see again, let me know and I’ll put them into the publishing queue.
I’ll have to write at length with how I’ve reworked my writing process, and not just from the AI angle. I’ve also figured out how to hack my ADHD so that a lot of the things that used to be liabilities (a hyperactive, easily distractible mind, a hunger for novelty, a constant desire to start new projects or to chase new ideas, etc) are now assets instead of liabilities. But to really get into that, I first need to write about how I hacked my ADHD to read more books—which would probably make a great blog post for January 2025, since I’m sure many of my readers are making resolutions to read more books. I used to struggle to read more than thirty or forty books in a year, but now I consistently finish a book every 2-5 days, and have been for the last year and a half. So that should make a very interesting post.
On a more personal note, my big resolution for this year is to hike Mount Timpanogos at least once, and be in good enough shape that it doesn’t totally wipe me out. It should be too hard. I enjoy hiking, but I’ve put off hiking Mount Timp for years, assuming I would get around to it some other time. Well, I’m 40 now, so if I don’t do it soon there’s a chance I may never do it. Besides, it would be great to get back into hiking again, and perhaps even tackle some truly difficult mountains, not just the big local one that’s emminently doable. But for this year, it’s Mount Timpanogos (and maybe Mount Nebo, if Timp isn’t enough of a challenge).
The kids are getting older, and we’ll probably have to figure out homeschooling before the end of this next year. We’re also moving back into our house in Orem, after my wife gets her PhD. Before we do, I’d like to build a little free library that we can post on the corner of our property, and maybe even a bench, if I can get around to it. But the library is definitely something I want to finish before we move back in. Should be a fun woodworking project.
So that’s what we’re up to around here. Definitely looking forward to another long trip around the sun!
Up and Back from Denver
My uncle just got remarried, after losing his wife of some 40+ years to dimentia. The wedding was Saturday, so I flew up there in the early morning with my two sisters who live here in Utah. And then, because my four year-old daughter had her first primary program in church this Sunday, I flew back that night around midnight.
With all of that said, though, I still managed to get 2k words of writing in while on the plane or in the airport (mostly on the plane). This was all human writing, taking the stuff that I’d previously generated with AI and using it as a detailed outline (or sometimes as a loose suggestion) while I rewrote it in my own words. Which goes to show how AI-assisted writing can be super useful, especially for those in-between moments where it’s impossible to get a more sustained focus. If not for what I had previously generated, I wouldn’t have gotten more than a couple of hundred words in, if that much. And of course, I didn’t get any writing in during the wedding or any of the family stuff before and after.
Needless to say, after waking up at 5am to fly out, and not going to sleep until 2am the following morning, I was pretty hashed all Sunday. But the primary program went really well. My daughter remembered her part, and all but swallowed the microphone as she shouted it so we could all hear: “I love Jesus! Jesus is the Prince of Peace and the King of Kings!” It was hilarious, and very cute.
Sudowrite just rolled out a new outlining feature in their Story Bible, which replaces the old outline field. I tried it out this morning, and two things strike me about it:
First, it’s really nice that there’s no longer a word limit on the novel outline. I did have a little trouble getting my chapters to link with the outline, so there are probably still some things on the backend that need to be smoothed out, but I did get it to work in the end.
Second, it is SUPER convenient to be able to have the AI generate the individual chapter descriptions. After playing around with it, I found that the best way to generate them was simply to copy and paste all of the plot points from the spreadsheet that I use to map out the whole book, not even bothering to format it for the weird table breaks and tabs. The AI takes all of that input as-is and spits out a super accurate chapter description every time! Very nice, and hopefully it translates to better chapter beats too.
So for today and tomorrow, I’m going to work on the outline for Lizzie-99XT. After that, I’ll go back to writing out the rough human draft for The Road to New Jerusalem, and probably just focus on human writing for the rest of the month.
Late October Update
It’s been a really mild autumn this year. We got our first hard frost only about a week ago, and it’s currently about 66 degrees outside. Feels positively balmy!
The image above is my current computer setup. The playpen is for the kids to watch a show while I’m working on the other monitor, such as what I’m doing right now. We’re still living with my in-laws, so this room is their library add-on. It’s really nice! I especially like how much light the windows let in, as well as the fact that it’s set away from the rest of the house, so I don’t have to worry as much about waking sleeping kids.
For the last few months, I’ve been alternating between each week between different WIPs, trying to use some of the principles I learned from hacking my ADHD in order to write more. I should really write a blog post about that soon. Basically, I switch out a new project every week, shepherding about half a dozen WIPs toward completion instead of completing them one at a time.
Since I only just started a few months ago, it’s going to be a few more months before the first of the projects is finished, but once I fill out the queue to that point I should be able to publish a new novel every other month for the forseeable future. Once I can do that consistently, without sacrificing the quality of the stuff I write, the plan is to move it up to once every six weeks, then once every month. With the way I’ve been incorporating AI into my writing process, it’ll be a challenge but still very doable.
I’m also working to get all of my audiobooks up on Findaway Voices, which distributes to Spotify, among other places. Since I’m not quite sure how to price them, I’m running a $2.99 sale for the rest of the year. The plan is to run a book pricing survey with my email list and use that data to guide future pricing for my ebooks and AI-narrated audiobooks. I’ve also been invited into the beta for Amazon’s AI-narrated audiobooks, so those should be going up on Audible before too long.
In family news, my wife is applying for a position in the BYU Linguistics Department, and they just set up a bunch of interviews (including the one with a General Authority, which is supposed to be with both of us). She’s also finishing up her PhD, which should be done next year. Between that and watching the kids, I don’t have a lot of uninterrupted writing time—thank goodness for AI!
And now the kids’ shows are over, so I’d better get back to doing other things. Take care!
AI-Assisted Writing: Why Write a Novel with AI?
One of the things about AI-assisted writing that has really surprised me is how resistant other writers can be to the very idea of using AI in their creative writing process. Here in Utah valley, there’s a large enough writing community that we occasionally get together for an informal meetup over lunch, and every time I’ve brought up the subject, I could almost see the fists come up. At one of our local writing conventions, Writer’s Cantina, I was on a panel about AI-assisted writing… and there were maybe only four people in the audience (and one of them was my wife!)
It’s a shame, because I really do think that generative AI is going to transform the way we write everything, from emails and reports to blog posts, long-form essays, and yes, even fiction. It’s only a matter of time. AI is gradually being worked into the apps and programs we all use to write, and as people become more comfortable with it in other aspects of their lives, they’re going to start using it to write fiction—and that’s okay! Almost all of the resistance is based on ignorance and fear, not a clear-eyed understanding of how these AI tools actually work.
As someone who remembers the days when “self-published” was very much a dirty word—in fact, many people considered it the kiss of death to ever having a professional writing career—it very much feels like we’re repeating the whole tradpub vs. indie wars of the early 2010s, just over the issue of AI-assisted writing. The biggest difference is that the internet is 10x more toxic than it used to be, probably because of how polarized and partisan our world has become in general. But other than that, it’s like we’re only a year or two away from an AI-assisted author having a massive breakout and proving that you can write with AI and be a success, the way Amanda Hocking proved that you can self-publish and be a success.
So why should writers consider writing a novel with AI? One of the things I hear a lot from other writers is “I enjoy the writing process too much to ever consider using an AI to help me write.” Which is fine, I guess, if you’re writing just for yourself and maybe your own family. But if writing is your career, or something you hope to turn into a career, why wouldn’t you want to experiment with AI-assisted writing? After all, if you refuse to even experiment with it, how can you possibly know that it won’t improve your process in some way? And if it can improve your process and give you a competitive edge, isn’t that reason enough to try?
Here is what I’ve found after a year and a half of experimenting with AI-assisted writing:
In the old days, it would take me anywhere from six months to several years to write a novel. Now, I can write a novel-length work in about 1-3 months.
Before, I would hit a patch of writer’s block in the middle of almost every project, leading to weeks (and sometimes months) of agonizing frustration and crippling self-doubt. Now, because of AI, I can step back far enough to see the forest from the trees and identify all of the major story issues before they become creative blocks—and generate a rough draft in about a week.
Before, whenever I would come up with a great new story idea while in the middle of another project, I would have to suppress my enthusiasm for that idea or risk having it derail everything I was working on. Now, I finish my projects fast enough that that generally isn’t a problem—and even if it is, it only takes a day or two of chasing that idea to satisfy the creative itch, and either trunk the idea entirely or turn it into a new project to work on later.
Before, my biggest limitation was my ability to turn ideas into words. Now, with a few clicks, I can generate all the words I could possibly need, and the biggest limiting factor is my ability to stay true to my own creative vision.
It’s a completely different paradigm, with a totally new skillset and a very long (and at times somewhat steep) learning curve—and that’s probably the real reason why most writers are so reluctant to experiment with it. But is it really worth it? The only way to find out is to make the leap. For the last 18 months, I’ve been making that leap, and even though I have yet to feel like I’ve mastered AI-assisted writing, I’ve already seen enough to believe that it is.
WIP Excerpt: The End of Elysium, Chapter 1
I am really excited about this WIP. Ever since I wrote the short story “The End of Elysium,” I thought it would make a good novel—and now, with the help of AI, I’m able to make that a reality while juggling all of my other writing projects!
What follows is the AI-assisted draft of the first chapter of this novel. To get it to this point, I generated multiple iterations of the first chapter, combined the best parts, and used some AI revision tools to smooth over some of the rough edges. The next phase is the rough human draft, where I rewrite the whole thing in my own words (no copy-pasting). After that, I’ll make a thorough revision pass, and if there aren’t any story problems I’ll make a final polishing pass where I cut the word count by at least 10%. At that point, it’s ready to publish.
It might seem like this is a whole lot of extra work compared to writing without AI-assistance. However, I’ve found that using AI to write the “crappy first draft” actually helps out a ton to work out the major story issues that tend to cause writer’s block later in the project, thus saving potentially months of work. In fact, by using AI, I’ve been able to cut down my typical novel writing time from several years to just two or three months, thus making it possible to juggle multiple projects at once—and hopefully, once the production pipeline fills out and all these projects start to come to fruition, publish a novel-length work every other month or so.
But enough about the writing process. Here is the excerpt from the AI-assisted draft of this novel!
Abbey
Abbey woke up with a start, her heart throbbing rapidly and her breath coming in short, quick gasps. In her mind’s eye, she could still see the ancient lost city, with its crystalline spires shining in light of the morning sun. Gehenna, they called it—the last remaining citadel of the old world. Legend held that its streets were paved with gold and lined with technological marvels beyond imagining.
The dream was always the same. Abbey saw herself wandering the fabled metropolis, basking in its wonders: fountains of pure water with towering monuments of bronze, sleek crystalline structures reaching upward to the heavens. Though the city was conspicuously empty, it was largely still intact, as if only a few days had passed since its inhabitants had left—not the centuries of abandonment that had worn the outside world into ruin. Deep in her bones, she knew that the secrets that lay hidden here would usher in a golden age for the survivors of humanity. In her dream, those secrets called out to her, as if yearning to be unearthed. If only she could find them!
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying desperately to hold onto the last fragmentary images of her dream. If only she could reach out and grasp it—make it tangible and real. She lay completely still, afraid that even the slightest movement might cause her to lose the last wisps of her beautiful vision.
“Gehenna,” she whispered, savoring the word.
She lay still for several moments, willing the dream of the lost city to come back into focus. But already the images had faded from her mind, dissipating like morning fog before the harsh, bright light of day.
Abbey sighed and sat up in bed, the threadbare blanket falling away. Pale light filtered through the cracks in the metal walls of her small dwelling. She stretched, working out the kinks from sleeping on the hard pallet, and swung her feet to the floor.
“One day,” she murmured, her mind wandering back to the lost city that had captured her imagination since childhood. “One day I’ll find you.”
Abbey moved through her tiny space, every action honed by years of routine. She splashed water on her face from a chipped basin, tied back her unruly hair, and walked over to the window on bare feet. With a swift motion, she opened the shutters and was greeted by a flood of warm sunlight pouring into the room. The fresh morning air filled her lungs as she leaned out, taking in the sights and sounds of nature awakening around her humble dwelling. In the distance, birds chirped and leaves rustled in the wind.
Filled with renewed determination, Abbey turned from the window and began gathering her gear – a tattered backpack, her trusty climbing axes, a coil of sturdy rope, ration packs, and her canteen. She paused at her workbench, fingers trailing over the map she’d laid out and the assortment of scavenged tech she’d collected. Each time she ventured out, she pushed a little further, mapped a little more of the collapsed highways and crumbling buildings. Patience and persistence would lead her to Gehenna eventually. It had to. Finding the lost city was more than a dream – it was her destiny.
As she tied her boots, Abbey couldn’t shake off the constant criticism from her fellow Valley Folk. They all seemed to have the same message: “Why do you keep chasing this impossible dream? It’s time to settle down and focus on the things that really matter.” But Abbey refused to listen. She knew she was onto something big, something that could change everything.
As Abbey stepped outside, the vibrant colors of the Valley greeted her, a vibrant tapestry of greens and golds. The morning sun bathed the landscape in a warm, golden glow, casting long shadows across the dewy grass. Birds trilled their melodic songs from the treetops, their voices intermingling with the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. The familiar sights and sounds of her home never failed to stir something within her – a mix of comfort and restlessness.
Abbey inhaled deeply, letting the fresh air fill her lungs and invigorate her senses. Despite the beauty surrounding her, her mind remained fixated on the legendary city that haunted her dreams. She set off down the well-worn path, her boots crunching against the gravel as she made her way towards the heart of the Valley.
She followed the familiar path that snaked through the village, her heavy boots leaving deep imprints in the damp earth. The sounds of daily life reverberated around her – the clanging and whirring of machinery from the machinist’s workshop, the bleats and snorts of livestock being led to pasture by farmers. Some tended to their gardens, coaxing vibrant vegetables from the rich earth, while others worked on their humble cottages. They greeted her with warm smiles and friendly waves, which she returned, her vibrant energy lifting their spirits.
“Good morning, Abbey!” called out the baker, waving from the doorway of his shop. “Off on another adventure today?”
Abbey grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You know me, Arlo. I can’t resist the call of the unknown.”
The baker chuckled, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and admiration. “Well, be careful out there. And don’t forget to stop by for a fresh loaf when you get back. I’m trying out a new recipe today.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Abbey promised, already looking forward to the taste of Arlo’s latest creation.
As Abbey continued down the winding path, her eyes caught sight of Old Mara, the village’s wise elder, tending to her beloved herb garden. The sweet aroma of thyme and rosemary filled the air as Mara’s skilled hands danced gracefully among the vibrant green plants.
“Good morning, Mara!” Abbey called out, her voice bright with enthusiasm. “How are your herbs coming along?”
Mara straightened, her kind eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled. “Ah, young Abbey. They’re thriving, thanks to this blessed weather. Off on another of your expeditions, I see?”
Abbey nodded. “You know me, always looking for something new to discover.”
Mara’s gnarled hands shook as she spoke, her voice thick with concern. “Just be careful out there, child. The Wastes are no place for a young woman like you.”
Abbey couldn’t help but bristle at the insinuation that she was too fragile for the dangers of the outside world. Still, she bit her lip, knowing that Mara only wanted to protect her.
“I know, I’ll be careful. I promise.”
Mara reached out and patted Abbey’s arm, her gaze softening. “We only want what’s best for you, dear. This valley, our people – this is where you belong.”
Abbey forced a smile. “I know, Mara. But there is so much more out there than just our simple way of life.”
As she made her way down the winding path towards Gehenna, Abbey’s mind raced with conflicting thoughts and emotions. She loved her home and its people, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more waiting for her beyond the familiar fields and forests of their valley.
The sound of laughter drew her attention, and she spotted a group of children playing near the stream. Their carefree joy brought a smile to her face, even as it reminded her of how different she felt from most of the Valley Folk.
“Abbey! Abbey!” One of the younger girls, Lily, came running up to her. “Did you find any treasures yesterday?”
Abbey knelt down, reaching into her pocket. “As a matter of fact, I did.” She pulled out a small, shiny object – a gear from some long-forgotten machine. “What do you think this might be from?”
Lily’s eyes widened with wonder. “A magic spinning wheel? Or maybe a star-catcher?”
Chuckling, Abbey ruffled the girl’s hair. “Could be. The world before the Catastrophe was full of marvels. Who knows what we might discover next?”
She continued on her way, exchanging pleasantries with others who crossed her path. Their well-meaning warnings and gentle admonishments did little to dissuade her. If anything, they only fueled her resolve to uncover the truth behind the legends.
Finally, Abbey arrived at the hangar, a large, repurposed barn that housed the Valley’s few precious vehicles. The massive structure loomed before her, its corrugated metal walls patched with sections of colorful fabric. Solar panels glinted atop the structure, harnessing the sun’s energy to power the fleet of vehicles within. The air hummed with the sound of machinery and the sharp scent of oil and grease.
The hangar doors were already open, revealing the cavernous interior filled with an assortment of vehicles – relics from the world before, lovingly maintained and modified by the village’s skilled mechanics. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, catching motes of dust that danced in the air.
“Finian!” Abbey called out, her voice echoing in the vast space. “Are you in here?”
A clatter of tools and a muffled curse answered her. From beneath one of the larger rovers, a pair of legs clad in oil-stained coveralls emerged, followed by the rest of Finian as he pushed himself out and looked up at her.
“Well, if it isn’t our intrepid explorer! Come to borrow one of my babies again?”
Abbey laughed, her eyes sparkling. “You know me too well, Finian. I’m hoping to push further into the eastern sector today.”
Finian wiped his hands on a rag as he stood, his expression a mixture of admiration and concern. “The eastern sector? That’s mighty ambitious, even for you. You sure you’re up for it?”
Abbey nodded, her expression set. “I have to be. I had another dream about Gehenna last night. It felt so real, Fin.”
He sighed, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Well, I can’t stop you. But at least let me give you our sturdiest rover.” He gestured to a rugged vehicle nearby, its frame reinforced with scavenged metal and its oversized tires caked with dried mud. “Old Bessie here has never let anyone down.”
As Abbey began loading her gear into the rover, Finian busied himself with last-minute checks. He topped off the fuel cells, tested the solar backup system, and calibrated the navigation array. While he worked, Abbey loaded her gear into the back and settled into the driver’s seat. The familiar scent of oil and leather filled her nostrils, mixing with the crisp morning air that drifted through the open hangar doors. She took a deep breath, savoring the moment before the journey began.
“Remember,” Finian said, leaning through the window, “if you run into any trouble out there, just hit the emergency beacon. We’ll come running.”
Abbey nodded, her throat tight with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. “I will. Thanks, Finian. For everything.”
As she started the engine, the rover rumbled to life beneath her. The deep, mechanical growl reverberated through her body, setting her nerves alight with anticipation. She eased the vehicle out of the hangar, waving goodbye to Finian.
Abbey guided the rover through the narrow mountain pass, the towering peaks casting long shadows across the rocky terrain. As she emerged on the other side, the stark contrast between the lush valley and the barren wasteland struck her once again. Abbey clenched the steering wheel, her focus fixed on navigating through the treacherous terrain.
She brought the vehicle to a halt at the edge of the desolation. Where the Valley teemed with life, the Wastes were a barren and desolate wasteland. The once verdant land now lay barren, its earth cracked and dry underfoot. The landscape was punctuated by sharp rock formations that seemed to reach for the sky, while eerie silhouettes of giant fungi loomed in the distance like alien monuments. A sickly yellow haze hung in the air, obscuring the horizon and casting an otherworldly glow upon everything in its path. She inhaled deeply, savoring the last breath of clean air before donning her protective mask to brave the toxic atmosphere ahead.
“Gehenna,” Abbey murmured, her eyes scanning the horizon.
Abbey’s heart ached as she contemplated the magnitude of the destruction. The Catastrophe had ravaged the world, leaving only ruin in its wake. Yet, even amidst the devastation, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. Could Gehenna be hidden beneath one of those distant rock formations? Or perhaps it was concealed by some ancient technology, invisible to the naked eye?
She closed her eyes, picturing the shining towers and gleaming streets of the legendary city. It was a vision that had haunted her dreams since childhood, a promise of a better life waiting just beyond the veil of the unknown. And though the Wastes seemed to mock her with their unyielding emptiness, Abbey refused to let go of that promise.
With a deep breath, she steered the rover forward, venturing once more into the desolation. “I know you’re out there somewhere,” she said aloud. “And someday, I’ll find you.”
Hopefully, someday soon.
Ranger
Ethan “Ranger” Carter paused before the entrance to Gehenna’s main simulation chamber. All around him, the underground corridors stretched like a labyrinth, their corroded metal walls and deteriorated conduit and pipes dimly illuminated by the flickering overhead lights. The air was tangy with the smell of old copper and rusted metal, with a hint of stale human sweat. The constant hum of machinery filled the space, a monotonous drone that seemed to vibrate through Ranger’s bones.
MONK: Offers total forgiveness. Able to see through deception, especially self-deception. Invites, but never forces.
He glanced down at his calloused and scarred hands, reminders of the endless hours he spent maintaining the failing systems of the vault. How much longer could they survive down here, cut off from the world above? The thought weighed heavily on his mind, especially with Old Man Mercer, Gehenna’s aging Watchman, lying on the brink of death.
“Another day in paradise,” Ranger muttered. With a tired sigh, he entered the dimly lit simulation chamber and prepared to jack into the simulation. The windowless room was illuminated only by the sickly green glow of ancient computer screens, casting an eerie pallor. He walked towards the nearest one, its surface marred with cracks and pits.
His body sank into the worn leather chair, and he reached for the neural interface cable – a cold metal snake that connected him to the virtual world. As he closed his eyes, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of confinement and unease creeping up on him, despite his years of using the technology.
The world shifted, the transition as jarring as always, and Ranger found himself standing in a lush garden. Gone were the oppressive confines of Gehenna, replaced by a shimmering cityscape that defied the laws of physics. Impossibly tall spires of crystal and light stretched towards an endless azure sky, while lush gardens floated serenely between them. The air was suffused with a gentle, golden light, and the faint sound of birdsong drifted on the breeze. Elysium stretched out before him, a paradise of verdant green and shimmering light.
Yet even in this seemingly perfect virtual Eden, signs of decay were beginning to show. The leaves on the trees flickered and shimmered, their edges blurring into pixelated static as if struggling to hold onto their form. The gentle breeze that once carried a sweet fragrance now also brought a faint undertone of discord, a reminder that this simulation was not eternal. The vibrant colors of the world seemed slightly muted, like a painting fading over time. It was a small crack in the facade, but one that could not be ignored.
Amidst the vibrant and lush garden, stood Jonas Mercer, a towering figure who had been his mentor and guide for countless years. His face, etched with lines of wisdom and experience, seemed to mirror the intricacies of the flowers and foliage surrounding him. Even in this simulated reality, his appearance remained true to that of the real world. The sun’s rays danced across his face, illuminating his piercing gaze.
“Ranger, my boy,” Jonas called, his voice carrying a weariness that seemed out of place in this paradise. “Come, sit with me one last time.”
As Ranger approached, he noticed how the old man’s form flickered intermittently, a stark reminder of his failing physical body in the real world. Even in this virtual world, death was making its presence known.
“Jonas,” he said softly, taking a seat beside his mentor. “How are you feeling?”
Jonas chuckled, the sound distorting slightly as his image wavered. “As well as can be expected, given the circumstances.” His eyes, despite their digital nature, held a profound sadness as he gazed across the simulated cityscape. “Pretty as a picture, isn’t it? Hard to believe it’s all just data and illusions.”
Ranger nodded, his gaze drawn to the shimmering imperfections in Jonas’ form. “It’s a marvel, to be sure. But sometimes I wonder…”
“If it’s all worth it?” Jonas finished, his eyes piercing. “If we’re just delaying the inevitable, hiding away in our little virtual paradise while the world above lies in ruins?”
Ranger shifted uncomfortably, the old man’s words striking a chord deep within him. “I just can’t help feeling like we’re meant for something more, like there’s a greater purpose out there waiting for us.”
Jonas sighed, his image flickering briefly as a wave of pain washed over his physical form. “I’ve been the Watchman for longer than I care to remember, Ranger. I’ve seen the records, heard the stories passed down from those who came before. Our ancestors, they were the lucky ones, if you can call it that. They survived the Catastrophe, made it to Gehenna before the world above turned to ash and dust.”
He paused, his gaze growing distant. “They built this place to be a sanctuary, a haven where humanity could ride out the storm. But they always believed that someday, we’d find our way back to the surface, that we’d discover the Promised Land and start anew.”
Ranger leaned forward, his heart quickening at the mention of that fabled place. “Do you think it’s really out there, Jonas? The Promised Land?”
The old man shrugged, a gesture of weary resignation. “I wish I knew, Ranger. I’ve spent my whole life searching for it, and now I fear my time is drawing to a close. The systems that sustain me are failing, both here and in Gehenna.”
Ranger felt a chill run through him at the words. He had always known that this day would come, but to hear Jonas speak of it so plainly was still a shock.
“What can I do?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion.
Jonas leaned forward, his eyes intent. “You must listen carefully, Ranger. Our people cannot remain here forever. Elysium was never meant to be a permanent solution.” The old man’s image flickered violently, and for a moment, Ranger feared he’d lost him. But Jonas’s voice returned, weaker now. “There’s a world beyond these walls, beyond even the Wastes. A Promised Land.”
Ranger’s chest tightened. “The Promised Land,” he murmured. “But how can we be sure it even exists?”
Jonas’s form stabilized momentarily, his gaze locking onto Ranger’s. “We must have faith, my boy. Faith in the resilience of our world, and in our own ability to reclaim it. The dream of the Promised Land, it’s what keeps us going, what gives us hope in the face of all this darkness. Promise me, Ranger, that you won’t give up on that dream. That you’ll do everything in your power to lead our people to the Promised Land.”
Ranger swallowed hard, the weight of that responsibility settling heavy on his shoulders. He knew, deep in his bones, that he could never turn his back on his people, on the duty that had been entrusted to him. But at the same time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the path ahead would be a lonely one, that the search for the Promised Land might well be the task of a lifetime.
“I promise, Jonas,” he said, his voice thin but resolute. “I’ll keep searching, keep hoping, for as long as it takes. I will do everything I can to find the Promised Land, no matter the sacrifice.”
The old man smiled, a flicker of pride and relief crossing his face as he reached out to clasp Ranger’s hand in his own. But even as he did so, his image began to waver and distort, the simulation struggling to maintain his fading consciousness.
“Go now, Ranger,” he said, his voice growing fainter with each word. “Gehenna is in your hands now. You are… the Watchman.”
His image flickered one last time, then vanished entirely, dissolving into a cascade of shimmering pixels that glittered briefly in the golden light before fading away to nothingness.
Ranger stood there for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the spot where Jonas had been. The virtual paradise hummed with a gentle, soothing energy, the air filled with the soft chirping of birds and the distant laughter of children at play. It was a world without pain, without suffering, a haven for the last remnants of humanity.
Yet, even as the virtual paradise shimmered around him, a sudden weight settled on his shoulders. He had always been different from the others, had always felt like an outsider among his own people. While they were content to live out their days in the virtual paradise of Elysium, he had always longed for something more, something real.
He thought of the Promised Land, the mythical place that Jonas and the other elders spoke of with such reverence. A place where the earth was healed, where humanity could start anew without the need for virtual realities and underground bunkers. It was a beautiful dream, but was it even real? It seemed so distant, so unattainable. And now, with the fate of his people resting on his shoulders, he felt more alone than ever.
“System, end simulation,” he commanded, his voice echoing in the emptiness.
The vibrant colors of Elysium began to fade to gray, signaling the end of the session. Ranger closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he found himself back in the cold, sterile confines of Gehenna. He blinked rapidly, adjusting to the dim, flickering light of the simulation chamber.
Beside him, on the adjacent couch, lay Jonas’s body. Ranger’s heart clenched at the sight. In death, the old man looked small, fragile – nothing like the towering figure of wisdom and strength he’d been in life.
“I’m sorry, old friend,” Ranger murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I hope you’ve found your own Promised Land.”
With gentle reverence, Ranger reached out, gently closing Jonas’s eyes before he disconnected the neural interface from Jonas’s temples. He slid his arms beneath the frail body, lifting it with care. The weight was surprisingly light, as if Jonas had already begun to fade away.
As he carried Jonas through the winding corridors of Gehenna, Ranger’s mind wandered to the world he had just left behind. Elysium, with its lush landscapes and endless possibilities, was a stark contrast to the grim reality of the bunker. The walls here were cold and lifeless, the air stale and recycled. It was a world of necessity, of survival, far removed from the idyllic paradise of the simulation.
He finally arrived at the incinerator room, the heat hitting him like a physical force. The small, tight space was filled with towering banks of machinery and intricate piping, creating a labyrinth of metal and wires. In the center rose the monstrous incinerator, its massive cylindrical form radiating a dull, ominous red glow that seemed to pulse with anger.
Gently, Ranger laid Jonas’s body on the conveyor belt. He paused for a moment, his hand resting on the old man’s shoulder, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. Jonas had been more than just his mentor; he had been a father figure, a guiding light, and a personal friend.
“Goodbye, old friend,” he whispered, a single tear tracing a path down his cheek. “May you find peace in whatever lies beyond.”
With a heavy heart, Ranger activated the conveyor belt and stepped back, watching as it slowly carried Jonas’s body into the heart of the incinerator. The flames engulfed the corpse, consuming it in a matter of moments. Ranger stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the fire, as if trying to burn the image into his memory. It was a sorrowful sight, a final send-off for his friend and mentor.
As he watched, Ranger couldn’t help but think of Elysium. It was a world without pain, without suffering, a world where anything was possible.
But it was also a world that wasn’t real.
In Elysium, there was no death, no loss, no grief. But here, in the harsh reality of Gehenna, those things were all too common. The concrete walls and metal surfaces seemed to mock him, reminding him of the cold, unforgiving nature of the world he lived in.
Ranger stood there for a long time, watching as the flames danced and flickered, reducing Jonas’s body to ashes. He thought of the promise he had made, of the mission that lay ahead of him.
“I don’t know if I can do this alone,” he confessed to the silent form. “But I’ll try. For you, for all of us. I’ll find the Promised Land.”
Lyra
Lyra Bellamy carefully adjusted her council robes as she entered the grand chamber of the Council, Elysium’s governing body. Ornate marble pillars stretched upward toward a ceiling that opened to a sky of endless blue, with flawless diamond statues depicting the founders in all of their glory. A large stone table sat in the center of the palatial chamber, shaped in a perfect circle. Beverages had been set at each place, according to the personal tastes of each council member (Lyra’s was a chamomile herbal tea). The virtual space shimmered with ethereal light that cast a gentle glow on the faces of those gathered.
As she took her seat, Lyra’s gaze swept over her fellow Council members. Gideon Gray’s imposing figure dominated one end of the table, his dark eyes shining intelligently amidst his salt-and-pepper beard. Though all on the Council had an equal voice, with none ranked higher than another, his voice had lately come to dominate many of their proceedings. Iris Blackwood, one of his allies and another outspoken voice, took her place on Lyra’s left, her bearing regal and composed. On Lyra’s right, Nina Evergreen had already settled in, her hazel eyes bright with curiosity.
“Good morning,” said Nina with a friendly nod. Lyra returned her greeting with a smile and took a sip of her chamomile tea. All around the table, the other Council members took their seats, their colorful robes shimmering in the soft, crystalline light.
Gideon Gray, his dark hair immaculately styled and his eyes gleaming with fervor, leaned forward in his seat. “The passing of the old Watchman is a great loss to our community,” he said, his voice dripping with reverence. “But it also presents an opportunity for us to reaffirm our commitment to Elysium.”
Iris nodded in agreement, her steel-gray eyes fixed on Lyra. “I agree,” she said. “The preservation of our way of life must be our top priority. We must ensure that the new Watchman understands the importance of maintaining the stability and harmony of our world.”
Lyra felt a flicker of unease in her chest. She knew that Gideon and Iris were staunch preservationists, believing that Elysium was the pinnacle of human achievement and should be protected at all costs. But she also knew that there were those on the council who still clung to the old ways, who believed that Elysium was meant to be a temporary haven until the Earth healed and they could find the Promised Land.
“I agree that we must support the new Watchman,” Lyra said, her voice soft but firm. “But let us first take a moment to remember Jonas and all he did for our community.”
As the council members bowed their heads in a moment of silence, Lyra’s thoughts drifted. She had always been content with her life in Elysium, with the predictability and comfort it offered. But now, faced with the challenges ahead, she knew that she would need to tread carefully, to find a way to bridge the gap between the opposing viewpoints threatening to tear the council apart.
When they raised their heads, Lyra spoke again, her tone gentle yet firm. “Now, let us discuss how we move forward, always keeping in mind the harmony and well-being of all in Elysium.”
Nina Evergreen, her golden hair cascading down her back, leaned forward with a thoughtful expression. “Perhaps we should consider the possibility that the Promised Land is not a physical place, but a state of being,” she said, her hazel eyes shining with curiosity. “Maybe the true purpose of Elysium is to help us achieve inner peace and harmony, rather than to serve as a temporary shelter.”
Lyra felt a surge of gratitude towards Nina. She had always admired the young woman’s open-mindedness and willingness to consider new ideas. But she also knew that such views were not always welcomed by the more conservative members of the council.
Gideon Gray’s piercing gaze swept across the council chamber, his virtual avatar radiating an aura of unwavering conviction. “Elysium is not just a temporary shelter,” he declared, his voice ringing with conviction. “It is a testament to the ingenuity and resilience of our ancestors, who built this paradise in the face of unimaginable adversity. To abandon it in pursuit of some mythical ‘Promised Land’ would be to dishonor their memory and sacrifice.”
Iris Blackwood nodded in agreement, her steel-gray eyes flashing with resolve. “We have a duty to preserve this world for future generations,” she said, her words measured and precise. “Elysium represents the pinnacle of human achievement, a shining beacon of hope in a world that has been ravaged by catastrophe. Why risk everything for an uncertain future beyond these walls?”
The air in the council chamber seemed to thicken with tension. Lyra’s gaze swept across the faces of those present, noting the mix of agreement and skepticism.
Councilwoman Vera, her brow furrowed, spoke up. “But wasn’t Elysium always meant to be temporary? A sanctuary until the Earth healed?”
“That was before we understood the true potential of what we’ve created here,” Gideon countered, his eyes flashing. “Why risk everything for a world that may no longer exist as we remember it?”
“Our ancestors’ vision was to reclaim our home,” another council member interjected. “To carry on the legacy of humanity in the physical world. Are we to abandon that dream simply because it is difficult or uncertain?”
Gideon’s avatar flickered momentarily, betraying his rising anger. “And what if Earth never heals? Would you have us trade paradise for a wasteland?”
Lyra listened to the debate, her heart torn between the two sides. She could understand the preservationists’ desire to protect what they had created, to maintain the stability and comfort of life in their virtual haven. Yet Jonas had always been a staunch believer in the idea that they were destined for something greater than the confines of Elysium.
She raised her hand, and the room fell silent, all eyes turning to Lyra. The virtual environment shimmered slightly, a reminder of the artificial nature of their world.
“My friends,” she began, her voice soft but steady, “I know that this is a difficult decision, one that will shape the future of our people for generations to come. But let us remember that we are all part of the same community, united in our desire to do what is best for our people.” She met the eyes of each council member in turn, her gaze warm but firm.
Gideon leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “Lyra, surely you can see that Elysium is our home, our sanctuary. To abandon it would be to turn our backs on everything our ancestors built.”
Iris nodded in agreement, her silver hair glinting in the soft light of the council chamber. “We have a responsibility to preserve what we have created, to ensure that future generations can continue to thrive in this paradise.”
“Perhaps,” Lyra ventured, “there’s a way to honor both our past and our future. To preserve Elysium while still exploring the possibility of a world beyond.”
Gideon nodded approvingly. “A wise suggestion, Councilwoman Bellamy. We should not rush into decisions that could jeopardize everything we’ve built.”
Lyra offered a small smile, even as her thoughts continued to churn. “Thank you, Gideon. I believe we all need time to reflect on what’s been said here today.”
The council members murmured among themselves, the tension in the room dissipating. Lyra exhaled slowly, relieved to have steered the discussion away from conflict. Yet as the meeting adjourned, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were standing at a crossroads, unsure of which path to take.
Working on AI-assisted short stories
I have decided to take the month of May to practice writing with AI by focusing on writing short stories. In the last few months, I’ve made great strides to incorporate AI into my writing process, but at this point I think I just need more practice, and the best way to do that is to focus on short stories for a while.
With Sudowrite, you get a certain number of credits each month, depending on your subscription level. Those credits do not roll over, and expire at the end of the month. I’ve generally been pretty good about using mine, though right now my novel WIP is in a place where I won’t be doing much more AI work on it. That’s part of the reason why I’ve decided to work on short stories for the next month, and maybe the first part of the next.
The stories I’m writing with AI are much better than the AI-assisted stories I was writing at this time a year ago. In fact, I’ve decided to trunk most of those ones, since I don’t think it’s worth rewriting them. Chalk it up to practice, I guess. With AI, it really does feel like I’m learning to write all over again. Thankfully, that’s been a lot more fascinating so far than it has been frustrating.
Maybe I’ll post the AI draft for one of these stories. It would be fun to get your reactions. So far, I’ve written two, though they still need substantial human reworking.
WIP Excerpt: Captive of the Falconstar, Chapter 5 (AI generated)
I’ve been experimenting a lot with AI-assisted writing, and I think I’m starting to produce some decently good work with it. Of course, in six months I’ll probably look back on what I’m producing now and feel utterly embarrassed by how bad it is, but still, it’s measurably better than the stuff I was producing six months ago.
Here is an excerpt from chapter 5 of my current WIP, Captive of the Falconstar. This scene is taken from the AI revised draft, and is 100% AI generated. It contains some mild spoilers, but nothing too major for the book or the series.
In the next draft, I will make a bunch of human revisions based on my notes, such as later events I need to forshadow, worldbuilding elements that I need to fix, or adjustments to the character’s motivations and growth arc—in other words, things that the AI doesn’t do as well. And in the draft after that, I’ll throw everything out and rewrite the scene completely from scratch, using the previous AI draft as little more than a guide or reference.
In other words, this AI generated version of the chapter is merely supposed to simulate the version of this chapter that I will actually write. It’s not intended to replace my own writing, or to be revised into the final published version. It’s a crappy first draft, in other words, and the reason I’m generating it with AI is so that I can iron out any potential wrinkles with the overall story arc, and fix them before they grow into huge creative blocks for me later on in the writing process. Generating the crappy first draft with AI is great, because 1) it’s super fast, and 2) it sucks up less of my mental energy, allowing me to focus on the broader story issues and not lose sight of the forest for the trees.
Anyhow, here is the AI version of scene 5.6 (Zenoba) before performing any human revisions. My process was that I generated three or four different versions of the chapter using Sudowrite, stitched together the parts I wanted to keep, and used Sudowrite’s AI revision tools to touch it up. Enjoy!
Zenoba moved through the austere corridors of the Falconstar, her gait measured but her mind a turbulent sea. She navigated the ship with an urgency that belied her usual composure, her thoughts a tempest of strategy and emotion. Her hands, usually so steady, now betrayed her with their tremble as she approached the door to Lady Nari’s quarters.
She hesitated at the entrance to Lady Nari’s quarters, steeling herself for the confrontation ahead.
“Enter,” came the matriarch’s voice from within, a command more than an invitation.
The door slid open with a soft hiss, and Zenoba stepped inside, her tall frame stiff with determination. The room was dimly lit, the walls adorned with tapestries depicting the Valdamar clan’s storied past. Lady Nari sat on a plush chair, her silver hair reflecting the light from the hologram projector that cast ghostly images of distant stars across the ceiling.
“Lady Nari,” Zenoba began, her voice steady despite the turmoil within, “I come seeking counsel.”
“Sit, Zenoba.” Lady Nari gestured to a seat opposite her, her brown eyes locking onto Zenoba’s with an intensity that could bend steel. “You refer to the marriage alliance with the Naimal clan, I presume?”
“News has reached me of Khasan’s intent to take another wife,” Zenoba said, each word measured, betraying none of the desperation clawing at her insides.
“Indeed,” Lady Nari said, finally turning to face her daughter-in-law. Her eyes held the wisdom of years and the unyielding strength of the matriarch she was. “It is a favorable alliance for our clan.”
“Is it truly wise?” Zenoba asked, desperation seeping into her tone. “Khasan already has a loyal wife who bears his child. This could divide our clan and create conflict within our own ranks.”
“Conflict?” Lady Nari scoffed. “Polygamous marriages have been part of our traditions for centuries. You knew this when you married my son.”
Zenoba clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. “Yes, I am aware of our traditions, but I never imagined that Khasan would consider such a move without even consulting me. I cannot help but feel betrayed.”
“Betrayed?” Lady Nari’s voice hardened, her eyes narrowing. “You are not the one making sacrifices for the good of our people. You should know your place and humbly submit to your husband’s decisions.”
Zenoba was taken aback by the harshness of the woman’s words. She had always looked up to her as a mother figure and expected support, not rejection. As she processed the sting of her words, Zenoba couldn’t deny that her own pride and fear were also at play. She didn’t want to lose Khasan’s love, but she also didn’t want to give in to tradition and loyalty without a fight. It was a constant inner battle between what was expected of her and what she truly wanted for herself.
Zenoba took a breath, willing her voice not to falter. “But it undermines my position, and what of the child I carry? Their future could be jeopardized by this—”
“Your position?” Lady Nari’s tone was reproachful. “Or your pride? You speak as if you are the only one affected by this. You forget your place, Zenoba.”
“Forgive me, but my place—as you say—is at Khasan’s side, in command of the Falconstar. If he were to marry again—”
“Then you will welcome Lady Tsarnai as you should,” Lady Nari interjected, her rebuke sharp. “Khasan’s choice honors the Valdamar name. It secures our future.”
As Zenoba stood before Lady Nari, the coldness of the room seemed to seep into her bones. Her pleading eyes searched for any sign of compassion in the ruler’s face, but found only a stern and unyielding expression. It was as if Lady Nari had been molded from the ice that covered the outer systems.
“Is this truly what he desires?” Zenoba’s voice trembled with emotion as she pleaded for understanding.
Lady Nari’s gaze remained unflinching. “His heart belongs to you, but his duty is to our clan. Your duty is to support him as his queen and make decisions for the benefit of our people.”
As the words hit Zenoba, she felt her whole body stiffen in shock. For so long, she had believed that her cleverness and manipulation would secure her future, but now, that certainty was crumbling beneath her feet. The once unbreakable bond between herself and her husband now seemed fragile and uncertain. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of fear as she realized that perhaps her control wasn’t as absolute as she thought it was.
“Khasan knows what must be done for the greater good,” Lady Nari continued, her gaze unwavering. “This alliance with the Naimal clan will secure our future. It is bigger than any one person’s pride or fear.”
Pride or fear—the words echoed in Zenoba’s mind. Was it pride that made her want to hold her place at Khasan’s side, or fear of being replaced, diminished? She swallowed hard, the contemplative silence stretching between them.
“Consider this a lesson in humility,” Lady Nari concluded, her voice softening just slightly. “A true leader knows when to yield for the greater good.”
Zenoba rose, her movements automatic. “I understand,” she lied, her voice hollow. She did not look back as she left Lady Nari’s quarters, the weight of the older woman’s expectations pressing down on her like the gravity of a collapsed star.
As she turned to leave, her mind was already racing, plotting her next move in the intricate dance of power that surrounded them. But beneath the veneer of calculation, there lay a fissure in her resolve, a vulnerability she dared not show.
As the door clicked shut, Lady Zenoba Valdamar, queen of the Falconstar, was left alone with her inner turmoil. In the silence and stillness of the corridor, she couldn’t help but doubt herself and her abilities. A lone tear escaped her eye before she quickly wiped it away, reminding herself that weakness was not an option in the days ahead. She needed to be cunning and resilient, but she couldn’t shake off the fear and uncertainty that consumed her.
Writing and Publishing Plans moving forward
Over the past few months, I’ve been spending a lot of time experimenting with AI writing and finding ways to incorporate it into my writing process. The goal so far has been twofold:
- Develop the ability to write one novel per month.
- Get to a level where I can write 10k words per day.
I’ve accomplished both of those things, but I can’t hit them consistently without burning out. Writing with AI has proven key to both of them, but I feel like I need a lot more practice with AI-assisted writing before I’ve achieved any level of mastery. Once I have mastered AI-assisted writing, however, I should not only be able to achieve both goals consistently, producing a much higher quantity of work, but should also be able to maintain or exceed the current quality of my writing as well.
However, I was thinking about it from a reader’s perspective on my morning walk last week, wondering what I would think if, say, David Gemmell was still alive and writing Drenai books, or Roger Zelazny was still alive and writing Amber books. What would I think if either of them announced that they had found a way to incorporate AI into their writing process, so that they could produce a new Drenai/Amber book once every month, instead of once every year? Better yet, what if Andrew Klavan—who is both still alive and still writing Cameron Winter books—announced that he would start publishing new books monthly. As a fan of all these writers, what would I think of that?
Assuming that there was no drop-off in the quality of these new, AI-assisted books, I would find this really exciting, and would probably become a much bigger fan, simply from the fact that I’m reading so much new stuff. However, after a while this might become too costly to me to keep up, leading me to fall away and not be quite so current on what they’re producing. I would still love them as authors, but if they published too quickly, I might have to take a break after a while—and if they continued to publish at that rate, I might never catch up. After all, there are lots and lots of authors that I love, and I can’t dedicate more than a fraction of my reading time to any particular one of them.
So there’s probably a sweet spot, between publishing too much and publishing too little. Most authors are probably on the Patrick Rothfuss / George R.R. Martin side of that line, where fans wish they would write more and write more quickly. But at a certain point, it is possible to overwhelm most readers by writing too much. Of course, there will always be a core group of fans who will read everything much faster than you could ever possibly write, even with AI assistance, but if that’s the only group you’re catering to, then you probably won’t ever have more than a cult following, because you won’t be able to convert casual readers into superfans.
With all of that said, I feel like I’ve gotten to a good place right now, where I’m publishing a free short story every month. I think that’s actually been a really effective way to turn casual readers into fans, and to keep my name fresh in the minds of my readers. And if Gemmell, or Zelazny, or Klavan were producing a free short story every month, I would definitely subscribe to their newsletters and drop everything to read it.
So keeping up the free short story per month is probably a good idea. But for novels, it might be better to release a new one every two or three months instead. Free short stories are much less of a time and money burden on the readers, and thus are effective at turning fans into superfans. But with the novels, which do take more time and money to read, it’s probably better to throttle that back a little bit.
The interesting thing to me is what that means for my creativing process, especially once I’ve reached the point where it takes less than a month for me to produce a novel. If I’m only publishing a novel every 2-3 months, that means that I can—and probably should—take a break between each novel WIP. Which means that the thing I should be shooting for isn’t to maintain a writing speed of one novel per month, month after month after month, but to hit that speed in creative bursts, taking some down-time to replenish the creative well and prepare for the next project.
It’s a very different writing paradigm from the one I’ve been following for the past decade. Until now, I’ve basically always had a novel WIP that I’ve actively been working on, and whenever I feel like I need a break, I usually move on to a different novel WIP. From time to time, I’ll “take a month off” to work on short stories, but the goal there has always been to write X number of stories in no more than a month or two, once again making writing the focus instead of recharging the creative well.
How would things be different if instead, I told myself “I’m taking a break in order to prepare myself to write my next novel,” with a plan for books and other media to consume in order to get things ready for it? And then, instead of taking several months or even years to write the project, to produce it in just a few weeks of white-hot creative heat, afterwards necessitating a break for a while just to cool down? Until now, I’ve never tried anything like that, because I haven’t thought myself capable of producing work that quickly. Indeed, the very thought of taking an extended break from having an active writing WIP has struck me as being lazy. But now that I know I can produce that quickly, perhaps this is a new paradigm that I ought to at least explore.
For my current WIP, Captive of the Falconstar, I’m not stressing out about finishing it in less than a month. But I am following all the benchmarks that I developed, and watching closely to see what takes more time to write than I thought, and what takes less. And it may very well turn out that the best way to improve quality is to get into that white-hot creative heat that comes from producing quickly, so that’s something that I’m watching closely as well.