creative process – One Thousand And One Parsecs

Author’s Note: Captive of the Falconstar

This is the author’s note I wrote for Captive of the Falconstar. To preorder the novel, click here.

As a young reader, I noticed an interesting pattern in the science fiction books I used to read. Whenever there were three books in a trilogy, the first one was usually a standalone of sorts, with a straightforward plot arc and a satisfying conclusion. But the second book in the trilogy either ended in a major cliffhanger, or else followed a tragic arc with a very unsatisfying conclusion that set things up for the third and final book in the trilogy, which wraps things up in a much more satisfying way. Over time, I internalized this basic rhythm, and still keep it in mind whenever I outline a new series arc.

With the Falconstar Trilogy, I had the idea for the first book long before I knew where the series itself was going. But I found it very difficult to write Queen of the Falconstar until I knew how the rest of the trilogy would end. For that reason, Queen of the Falconstar remained an unfinished draft on my hard drive for the better part of a decade, until I dusted it off in 2020 and tried to rewrite it as a novella. After running it through my writing group, I had a long conversation with my wife, in which I shared some of my story ideas for books 2 and 3. Her response was the catalyst that became Captive of the Falconstar: she basically said “Sonya is too much of a passive character. You should make her the villain/anti-hero of book 2, and give her a revenge plot.”

Suddenly, everything came together, and I knew exactly what I needed to do. I scrapped the novella version of Queen of the Falconstar and turned it into a novel, publishing it in 2021. I then set the Falconstar Trilogy aside to finish The Stars of Redemption (the third book in the Genesis Earth Trilogy) and Children of the Starry Sea. Basically, I had a lot of irons in the fire and wanted to finish those other WIPs before finishing what I’d started with Falconstar. Also, I wanted to see how Queen of the Falconstar did as a standalone, to judge whether or not to prioritize the next two books.

Then, in 2022, OpenAI released ChatGPT and everything began to change. Suddenly, generative AI was turning the writing world upside down. Two camps began to emerge: the first and most vocal was vehemently opposed to all things AI, but especially with using AI as a writing tool. From what I can tell, between a third to a half of all writers fall into that camp. The other half, however, quietly began to implement AI in their writing process in varying degrees. Some writers were lazy about it, leading to some hilarious mishaps when they copy-pasted the full AI response in their books without reading it first, including phrases like “here is the passage you requested, in the style of such-and-such author.” But others were more thoughtful about it, striving to find a balance between using AI as a tool and preserving their own authorial voice and vision.

It was a fascinating time to be a writer, especially one with several novels under my belt. Since I’d already written at least a million words without any AI, and had already developed my own personal voice, I didn’t see much harm in experimenting with these new AI writing tools to see what they could do. I very quickly found that the lazy approach was not the best way to “write,” as AI has, at best, a very bland voice and very little logical consistency over the course of a 300 page book. To really make it work, I found that I had to bring my own vision in the form of a solid outline, and to rewrite everything in my own words to make sure that my voice made it to the final version. But for all the work in-between, I found that AI was a very powerful tool.

There are basically three parts to writing a book: coming up with the story, translating that story idea into words on the page, and turning those words into good words. The part that I struggle the most with is putting the actual words on the page, because a story often changes in the course of writing it down, and when my focus is on putting words on the page, it’s very difficult for me to keep a broad view of the story. Suddenly, the words stop coming to me, because my subconscious mind recognizes that something in the story is broken, but because I’ve lost sight of the forest for the trees, I don’t know how to fix it. So I spend the next month (or two, or three) trying to write my way through the block, only to find that the whole book is hopelessly broken, at which point I decide to set the book aside and come back to it later, once I can approach it with fresh eyes. When I come back to it, the problem is often obvious enough that a quick rewrite can fix it, but by that point I’m several months (or even years) into the project, with very little to show for it. And that is when things work out well—I’ve got plenty of other books that I couldn’t fix, and ended up trunking.

But with AI, I can now translate my outline into a passable rough draft without losing sight of the overall story. By doing this, I can immediately identify all of the major issues with the story, and fix them before they turn into months and months of writer’s block. Of course, the AI draft is too terrible to publish on its own, but that’s no different than any other crappy first draft. So after tweaking the prompts, generating a few different versions of the book, and combining the best parts of each version into a version that’s as good as I can make it with the AI tools alone, I find that I’m ready to rewrite the whole thing in my own words. At that point, it doesn’t matter if I lose sight of the overall story, because all of the major story issues are fixed, and I can focus on the page without having to worry about falling into writer’s block.

In general, I think there are two approaches to using AI. The first is to use AI to do all the work, so that you can reap all of the reward. This isn’t always the wrong approach, but it does always produce “slop.” The other approach is to use AI to do the work that you really struggle with, so that you can refocus your energy on the work that you’re actually good at. Usually, this is the 20% of what you do that produces 80% of the results. Using this approach to AI, you can 5x your productivity without sacrificing quality or producing AI slop.

Imagine a world where instead of waiting a year or more to read the next book from your favorite author, you could get a new book every few months. A world in which your favorite author writes more than a hundred really good books over the course of his lifetime, rather than only one or two dozen. With the way AI is changing things, I’m very optimistic that we are entering this kind of a world. Yes, there will be a lot of slop too, but most of that is going to sink while the cream will rise to the top. And as for the fear that AI will completely replace human authors, I’m not too worried about that, because voice and vision are the two distinctly human elements that make the best books stand out from all the rest. We may get to the point where AI can write a good, generic fantasy novel, but it will never be able to write a Joe Vasicek novel. So if I can learn to use these AI writing tools without losing my voice or my vision for my books, the result is a world where I can write not just more books, but better books—enough to build an audience that will sustain a lifelong career.

So from 2023 through 2025, I focused all of my writing efforts on experimenting with these new AI writing tools, figuring out what worked and what didn’t work, and incorporated all of that into my new creative process. I wrote a lot of practice novels in that time, most of them in the Sea Mage Cycle, but I did experiment a lot with Captive of the Falconstar too. In 2024, I wrote out a detailed outline for the book, but my first attempt was not satisfactory, and I ended up trunking that AI draft and reworking the project from scratch. All through this time, the AI models themselves were rapidly changing, (as well as Sudowrite, the platform I use for most of my AI drafts,) so when I did pick up this WIP again, it made more sense to rewrite the prompts and generate a whole new version anyway.

In January 2026, I decided to buckle down and finish Captive of the Falconstar, even if it took the better part of the year. Thankfully, I managed to finish it in only four months, even though I was watching three small kids for most of that time while my wife was working full-time. (That’s another great thing about writing with these new AI tools: they can really help you to write through difficult life circumstances that would otherwise force you to put your writing on the back-burner for months, or even years.) Once it was done, I sent it off to my editor and put it up for preorder.

The content issues of Captive of the Falconstar did give me pause, since this is much more of an R-rated book than I usually write. In particular, I spent a lot of time agonizing over whether to fade to black instead of including the explicit sex scene where [SPOILER REDACTED]. But her realization of [SPOILER REDACTED] was important enough to her character development that I decided to keep it in. And whenever I paused for a gut check, I always got the impression that this was the book I was supposed to write, even with the explicit sexual content.

Zenoba’s bisexuality was also difficult to write, because of the danger that it would upset everybody and satisfy nobody: that LGBTQ readers would be outraged by the lack of positive affirmation, and that conservative readers would be disgusted by the inclusion of any LGBTQ content at all. But [SPOILER REDACTED] is so key to Zenoba’s character, and to [SPOILER REDACTED], that I couldn’t write her character honestly without including it. And again, whenever I paused for a gut check, I always felt impressed to go on. For all that, I can only suppose that there is a reader out there whom this story was meant to touch. Perhaps that reader is you.

When it comes to mature subjects like [SPOILER REDACTED], there’s a fine line between depicting the subject honestly and depicting it gratuitously. If you err too far on one side, you end up with a weak or an incomplete story, but if you err too far on the other, you veer into writing porn. I’ve done my best to thread that line, and to write my characters as true and as honestly as possible. Perhaps I could have done better, but I do believe that I’ve done the best that I can with my current level of skill.

My plan as of now is to finish another Sea Mage Cycle book and write the third and final book in the Falconstar Trilogy in time for a May 2027 release. I’m still not at a point where I can write a new book in less than 3-4 months, but I do think I can write them fast enough to publish 2-3 novels per year. So that’s the goal. Maybe when the kids are a little older, and I’m a little more practiced with these AI writing tools, I’ll be able to to do more than that. But either way, you won’t have to wait another five years before getting the conclusion to the Falconstar Trilogy. That much I can definitely promise you!

If you enjoyed this book, I would greatly appreciate it if you would post a rating or a review. It really does help to train the recommendation algorithms, so that other people with similar tastes can find these books. Or you can tell a friend about them—even in today’s interconnected world, there’s no substitute for an authentic human connection. If you want to follow my books and my writing, the best way to do that is to sign up for my email newsletter, which I send out about 1-2 times per month. Or you can follow my blog at One Thousand and One Parsecs, or email me at jvasicek.author@gmail.com if you want to get in touch.

That’s all for this one. Until next time, thanks for reading!

Joe

June 2026

HTTL

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: 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.

The Sudowrite draft of The Riches of Xulthar is finished!

It only took about a month, but it would have been much faster if I’d used Story Engine. Honestly, I probably could have generated the text in a week if I’d used that tool, or perhaps even an afternoon. Instead, I outlined the project myself, wrote the first couple of paragraphs for each individual scene, and wrote / generated the rest.

Most of what I used Sudowrite for was on a sentence and paragraph level for this draft. Typically, I would write a bit, get to a point where I wasn’t sure what to write next, generate some text, and then either 1) use it as-is, 2) use it, but run it through a couple of rewrite filters first, 3) use it, but tweak it myself, or 4) throw it out entirely and keep writing. Because the AI didn’t have an outline to work with, it often took the story off in weird and non-useful directions, but there were a couple of times where it surprised me in a good way, and I decided to keep it in.

One of the things I found was that Sudowrite is terrible for magic systems, world-building, character arcs, foreshadowing, unresolved sexual tension, or anything else that happens on a macroscopic scale, especially if that story element changes over the course of the novel. For example, he AI engine wanted every scene involving both my male and female leads to culminate in the climax of their romantic subplot. Likewise, it was very difficult to get the AI to hit the right beats for their character growth; that was something where I really had to babysit it.

But for those microscopic, word / sentence / paragraph level story elements, I was pleasantly surprised with how Sudowrite performed. It felt a bit like I was riding in the front of a tandem bicycle, instead of writing alone. When I hit stretches that required a lot of uphill effort, I could rely on the AI engine to do most of the work while I steered. Of course, riding a tandem is no fun unless both people are pedaling, so I still had to do my part, but the hills and the rocky parts felt a lot easier, which was nice.

This Sudowrite draft isn’t anywhere near publishable, but that wasn’t what I was going for. Instead, the goal was to get it good enough to use as a starting point to rewrite the entire thing myself. Rough drafts are pretty hard for me, but rewriting and revising comes much easier after I have something to work with. Even if I end up throwing out every word, I expect that I can power through this “humanized” draft in a fraction of the time it would take me to write the novel from scratch. I may even finish it this week!

But perhaps the area where the Sudowrite draft did the most was with helping me to be productive even when my attention was being pulled in multiple directions by small children. A significant chunk of this book was written in the BYU Library’s family study room, with one eye on my three year-old daughter as she played with the other kids. Even after I had to step in to referee a bit, or to take her for a snack or a potty break, the AI tools enabled me to jump right back in and keep writing.

The amount of focus it takes to write with AI tools is much, much less than what it takes to write without them. At least, that has been my experience. Granted, my goal with this draft was not to make it publishable, but to make it good enough for the next phase, which is more like 95% human effort and 5% AI, as opposed to 40% human effort and 60% AI, which I used for this draft.

But I doubt there are any AI tools right now that can get a book into a published state with minimal human effort. In general, I’ve found that these AI-assisted writing tools are great for getting a book from terrible to passable, but not as useful for getting a book from passable to genuinely good—and as for getting a book from good to genuinely great, you can forget it with our current set of AI tools. Much better to rely on human efforts for that.

To use another analogy, it’s kind of like using a two stage rocket to get to orbit, where the booster rocket is the Sudowrite draft and the second stage rocket is the humanized draft. The booster won’t get you to orbit on its own, but it will get you through max Q and send you high enough that the second stage can finish the job. And since you’re going up in two stages instead of just one, it doesn’t take nearly as much fuel to get there.

Another advantage of doing it this way is that the final draft will be almost 100% human-written. There’s no copying or pasting in the humanized draft—every sentence and every word is typed out by hand, and while some of it may come verbatim from the Sudowrite draft, most of it is going to be changed in some way, sometimes quite substantially. For example, today I “humanized” a scene that was about 750 words in the Sudowrite draft, but ended up at around 1500 words.

What I’ll probably do is pick a few scenes from this novel and post the before and after, to show how substantially it’s changed. But even the Sudowrite draft isn’t totally AI generated, at least with the way I’ve been using these tools. Like I said above, it’s much closer to 60/40.

The Sudowrite draft of The Riches of Xulthar clocks in at about 33.2k words. That still falls short of the 40k word minimum threshold for a novel, but it will get longer with the next draft, and I expect it to end up somewhere between 40k and 45k words. With luck, I’ll finish the humanized draft by the end of this week, and the revisions before the end of this month.

More early thoughts on AI-assisted writing

It’s become something of a cliche that true writers write because they can’t not write, but as with so many other stereotypes and cliches, there’s a kernel of truth in it. I’ve been writing on and off since the 8th grade, and even during periods of my life when I wasn’t able to focus on writing, the writing itch would still come for me, and I would have to sit down and sketch out something, even if I never did anything with it.

Over the years, I’ve gotten pretty good at telling whether I’ve done enough to satisfy that creative urge that drives me to write, and whether that urge has been left unsatisfied. Yesterday, I realized that something felt off because that creative urge had not been satisfied—which is strange, because after only two weeks of working on this AI-assisted novel project, I’m already halfway done with the first draft. Indeed, yesterday I “wrote” (if that’s the right word for it) a little over 4.5k AI-assisted words.

Now, this should go without saying, but the point of writing professionally is not how good the creative process makes you feel, but how well and how quickly you produce a quality finished product. But I do think there’s a correlation between the two: that you are more likely to create a quality finished work the better your creative process satisfies your creative urges.

In the last three months of writing with AI, I’ve had some writing days that were better than almost any I’ve had in years. I’ve also had some very meh days, which is to be expected… but what isn’t so expected is this feeling of being creatively unsatisfied, which I usually don’t feel unless it’s been two or three weeks since I’ve done any writing. Something weird is going on.

How much of this feeling of creative dissatisfaction is due to the fact that I’m outsourcing a significant portion of the creative work to an AI, and how much of it is simply to be expected from trying to master a new and unfamiliar skill, which has kept me from satisfying that urge in the same way as I have in the past? At this point, it’s difficult to say. Probably a little of both.

Having worked on this for a while now, though, I think that the writers (and other creative types) who are going to succeed the most with AI-assisted creative work are the ones who figure out how to integrate the human element of their process with the AI element of their process, such that each one complements and enhances the other. Right now, everyone’s talking about how AI will replace us, but that’s really the wrong way to think about it if you want to learn how to master these tools.

I suspect that the way to master AI-assisted writing is not to try to get the AI to “do the hard stuff,” or replace some aspect of the creative process, but to integrate it within your creative process such that it enhances and magnifies your own, very human efforts. For that reason, I’m changing the way that I count my daily words so that I no longer make a distinction between words that I “write” myself, and words that the AI “writes” or generates, because the AI can’t generate words unless I give it enough to work with. Often, that means that I write a little, then generate a little, then tweak what the AI generates and write a little more. When the process is working well, it’s very difficult to say which parts were purely AI “written,” and which parts were purely human “written.”

But it’s still going to take a while to figure out exactly how to integrate AI into my writing process. As I continue to do that, I’m going to pay close attention to how it satisfies—or fails to satisfy—my creative urge to write, not because that is the end goal, but because I suspect that if my creative urge is not being satisfied, the AI-assisted stuff that I’m producing probably isn’t very good. It may not be very good even if my creative urges are satisfied, but if something about the process is missing, then something about the final product probably is missing as well.

Anyhow, those are some more of my random thoughts as I continue to experiment with AI-assisted writing. I was hoping to finish the rough/AI draft of The Riches of Xulthar before the end of the month, but I’m almost out of AI words for this billing cycle, so I’ll probably move on to the “humanizing” phase for what I’ve already written, which is where I retype the AI-generated stuff in order to pass it through what I like to call “the human filter.” Hopefully that helps to give the story a little more of my personal voice and style, and not read like something that could have been AI generated by anyone. But I’m still working out and experimenting with that part of the process, just like all the others.

ChatGPT explains how to best use ChatGPT as a co-author

How can I best collaborate with ChatGPT as a co-author? What techniques work best?

Collaborating with ChatGPT as a co-author requires a different approach than using it as a writing tool. Here are some techniques that can help you collaborate with ChatGPT as a co-author:

Identify strengths and weaknesses: As with any co-author, it’s important to identify ChatGPT’s strengths and weaknesses. For example, ChatGPT excels at generating creative ideas and unique perspectives, but may struggle with consistency or staying on topic. Understanding these strengths and weaknesses can help you develop a plan for collaborating effectively.
Use prompts and constraints: Providing ChatGPT with prompts or constraints can help guide its creative output and ensure that it stays focused on the task at hand. This can be especially helpful when working on specific sections or themes within a larger project.
Embrace the unexpected: One of the benefits of collaborating with ChatGPT is that it can generate unexpected and surprising ideas. Embracing these ideas and exploring them further can lead to unique and innovative writing.
Edit and revise: As with any writing project, editing and revising are essential when collaborating with ChatGPT. You should review ChatGPT’s contributions carefully and edit them as needed to ensure that they fit within the larger context of the project.
Emphasize collaboration: Collaboration is key when working with ChatGPT as a co-author. You should approach the project as a true collaboration, incorporating ideas and contributions from both yourself and ChatGPT.

It’s important to keep in mind that ChatGPT is an AI language model and not a true co-author. While it can generate ideas and contribute to the writing process, it does not have the same level of creativity or understanding as a human co-author. As with any collaboration, it’s important to approach the process with an open mind and a willingness to work together towards a common goal.

Tell me more about point 1. What sort of limits and prompts work best with ChatGPT’s weaknesses?

ChatGPT’s weaknesses lie in its inability to understand context and the broader narrative structure of a story. Therefore, when collaborating with ChatGPT as a co-author, it’s important to use limits and prompts that provide clear and specific constraints for the AI to work within.

For example, you might provide ChatGPT with a specific setting, such as a space station orbiting a distant planet, or a particular character or group of characters with distinct personalities and motivations. You might also provide ChatGPT with a specific problem or conflict to work with, such as a malfunctioning AI system or a looming environmental disaster.

By providing these sorts of limits and prompts, you can help steer ChatGPT towards producing writing that fits within the broader context of your story, while also taking advantage of its strengths in generating creative and unexpected plot twists or character developments.

It’s also worth noting that ChatGPT works best with concise and specific prompts, rather than open-ended or vague ones. Providing too much leeway can result in the AI producing writing that doesn’t fit with the broader narrative or direction of the story, so it’s important to provide clear and specific prompts to get the best results.

Tell me more about point 2. What sort of constraints are too broad, and what sort of constraints are too limiting?

Constraints that are too broad may not provide enough guidance to the model, leading to a lack of coherence or focus in the generated text. For example, if you simply ask ChatGPT to generate a science fiction story without any specific prompts or guidelines, it may produce a text that is too general and lacks a clear plot or character development.

On the other hand, constraints that are too limiting may stifle the creativity of the model, resulting in a text that is formulaic and predictable. For example, if you provide ChatGPT with a detailed plot outline and ask it to fill in the details, it may produce a text that lacks surprises or originality.

The key is to find a balance between providing enough structure to guide the model while still leaving room for it to explore and create. This can involve providing specific prompts or guidelines for setting, characters, and plot, while also allowing for some flexibility and creative freedom within those constraints.

Tell me more about point 3. What are some examples of unexpected and surprising ideas that ChatGPT can generate?

ChatGPT is capable of generating unexpected and surprising ideas that can spark creativity and lead to unique storylines. Here are some examples:

Unusual character traits: ChatGPT can suggest unusual traits for a character that you may not have considered before, such as a fear of heights or an obsession with antique toys.
Plot twists: ChatGPT can offer plot twists that are unexpected and thought-provoking. For example, imagine a story where a character discovers that their long-lost sibling is actually an alien.
Unique settings: ChatGPT can suggest unique settings for your story, such as a floating city in the clouds or a dystopian world where people live in underground tunnels.
Symbolism and imagery: ChatGPT can offer ideas for symbolism and imagery that can add depth and richness to your story. For example, imagine a character who is haunted by the image of a clock that is always ticking down.

By collaborating with ChatGPT in this way, you can tap into its vast knowledge base and ability to generate ideas, which can help you take your writing in new and unexpected directions.

Tell me more about point 4. Is it a bad idea to just copy and paste from what ChatGPT gives me, or can that method work well in certain circumstances?

While copy-pasting content generated by ChatGPT can be a useful starting point, it’s generally not a good idea to use it as-is without any modification or editing. The content generated by ChatGPT can be helpful in providing ideas, themes, and even some sentences or paragraphs that can be incorporated into the final story.

However, it’s important to remember that ChatGPT is not perfect and may generate text that doesn’t make sense or doesn’t fit with the tone or style of the story. It’s up to the writer to review the content generated by ChatGPT and make any necessary revisions or modifications to ensure that the final product is coherent, consistent, and engaging.

In summary, while copying and pasting from ChatGPT can be a useful starting point, it’s important to use it as a tool for inspiration rather than relying on it completely. Ultimately, the writer should use their own judgment and creativity to shape and refine the story.

Tell me more about point 5. What do you mean by “true collaboration”?

By “true collaboration” I mean a process where both you and ChatGPT are actively contributing to the creation of the story, rather than simply using the AI as a tool to generate content that you then edit or revise. This involves engaging with the AI in a more dynamic and interactive way, where you are not just giving it prompts or asking it to generate content, but also actively responding to its output and incorporating its suggestions and ideas into your own writing process.

For example, you might start by giving ChatGPT a prompt or a basic outline of the story you want to write, and then work together with the AI to flesh out the plot, characters, and setting. As ChatGPT generates ideas and suggestions, you can provide feedback and refine the direction of the story. This might involve asking the AI questions, challenging its assumptions, or suggesting alternative plot twists or character motivations. Ultimately, the goal is to create a true synthesis of your own creativity and the AI’s capabilities, where the final product is a collaboration that is greater than the sum of its parts.

Tell me more about point 6. I know you didn’t give me a point 6 in your previous response, so surprise me with something new.

Sure, I’d be happy to expand on point 6! Another effective technique when collaborating with ChatGPT as a co-author is to use the platform to generate ideas or brainstorm. For example, you can provide ChatGPT with a writing prompt or a general topic and ask it to generate a list of potential plot points, characters, or settings. You can then use these generated ideas as a starting point to develop your own story.

Additionally, you can use ChatGPT to help you overcome writer’s block or generate fresh perspectives on a story you’re struggling with. Sometimes, all it takes is a different angle or a new idea to unlock your creativity and get the words flowing again.

Of course, it’s important to remember that while ChatGPT can be a helpful tool for generating ideas and overcoming creative hurdles, the final responsibility for crafting a compelling story ultimately lies with you as the writer. So always use ChatGPT as a tool to enhance your own creativity and vision, rather than relying on it to do the work for you.

Thanks for this enlightening discussion, ChatGPT. Is there anything else you would like to add?

You’re very welcome! It was a pleasure discussing AI-assisted writing with you. As a language model, my goal is to help people communicate more effectively and efficiently, and I believe that AI-assisted writing can be a powerful tool to help writers achieve their creative goals. However, it’s important to use these tools responsibly and ethically, and to remember that the ultimate responsibility for crafting a compelling story lies with the writer.

If you have any further questions or would like more guidance on incorporating AI tools into your writing process, don’t hesitate to reach out. I’m always here to help!

I wrote a story with ChatGPT…

…about a struggling magazine editor who has been swamped with poorly written AI-assisted stories by writers using ChatGPT. If that sounds hilariously meta, here is ChatGPT’s description of the story:

“Quantum Worlds” is a science fiction story about Robert, the editor-in-chief of a struggling science fiction magazine. In a last ditch effort to save the magazine, he and his wife Sarah come up with the idea of using AI to help with the submissions. The idea is met with skepticism, but it proves to be a game changer. As the magazine becomes successful again, Robert and Sarah face challenges from the science fiction community and their own daughter, who has ideas of her own about how to use AI in storytelling.

The story explores the tension between tradition and innovation in the science fiction community, and the ethical considerations of using AI in creative endeavors. It also touches on themes of family, sacrifice, and the importance of supporting the next generation of creators.

I actually think it turned out pretty well. It’s about 4,500 words, and instead of trying to rewrite it in my own voice, I’m going to send it out as it currently stands. I really hope someone picks it up!

I’d say that ChatGPT did about 40% of the work. I started by explaining the initial idea, and then we went back and forth about it for a while. When I prompted ChatGPT to come up with a twist, I had to prune the first two or three ideas it gave me, then work with it to refine it into something that would actually work (and also was a genuine twist, not just a cliche that any science fiction reader would see coming a mile away).

When it came to the actual writing, I would usually start by saying something like “write the next scene, where blah blah blah,” and then it would spit out between 400 and 600 words. I would typically have it generate a couple of responses, and I would choose the best one to copy and paste into the manuscript. A few times, I copy and pasted snippets from all of the responses to form something better.

There were a few loose ends and disjointed parts that I had to fix on my own. When I tried to copy and paste back into ChatGPT to get it to do the revisions, it just gave me mushy, unusable summarizations of what it had already written. Also, ChatGPT uses straight quotes, so I had to change all of them into curly quotes, which was annoying. But the revisions weren’t too difficult, and whenever I needed more than a paragraph or two of new material, I would copy the old material into ChatGPT and ask it to rewrite that section, giving me what I needed.

There were a couple of times when it tried to slip in “diversity and inclusivity” stuff, but overall it wasn’t all that woke or insufferable. I really do think the developers have added a filter on the backend that goes something like “make sure that your reponses have enough diversity and inclusivity,” or something stupid like that. Wasn’t hard to work around, especially for a story that isn’t political in the slightest.

Proofreading was super easy. The only things that spellcheck picked up were parts that I’d added, or words that weren’t in spellcheck’s dictionary but should have been.

It is a kind of cheesy story, though. ChatGPT was trained mostly on internet content, which is also probably why I could only get it to come up with good stuff in 400-600 word chunks. It would be interesting to use a language learning model that was trained on, say, Project Gutenberg, or the Baen Free Library. But for the story I wanted to write, cheesy is actually good.

Is there anything else you would like to tell our readers, ChatGPT?

I just want to remind readers that storytelling is a powerful tool for exploring complex themes and ideas. The use of AI and its impact on creativity and the arts is just one example of how technology is changing the world around us. I hope this story inspires readers to consider the implications of these changes and to continue exploring the intersection of technology and the arts. As always, keep reading and keep learning!

A weird thing I’ve noticed

So I’ve been making good progress on Children of the Starry Sea, writing about 2k words or one scene per day. But in the last couple of weeks, I’ve also had a bunch of short stories drop in my lap, two of them from dreams.

My best writing time is between 4am and 6am, so on both occassions I simply wrote the story as I dreamed it, or as I reimagined it right after waking up. This has taken a little bit of time away from working on Children of the Starry Sea, but not too much. For the first story, “We Should Have Named You Corona,” I spent one day knocking it out, then was back to work on my novel WIP the next day.

The other story is “On the Eve of the Flood,” and it’s more like I dreamed the general setup, not the actual story. I spent most of today working on it (I had the dream last night), but I still managed to finish another short scene from Children of the Starry Sea, so I don’t think this one is going to distract much from my novel WIP going forward—unless I decide to just buckle down and finish it in the next couple of days, which I may decide to do.

The third story, “Hell From Beneath,” is actually a J.M. Wight story that I wrote a few months ago, but wasn’t very satisfied with. One day, though, the solution to that story’s problems just sort of opened up to me, and I knew what I had to do to fix it. I wasn’t even thinking about it at all—I was working on Children of the Starry Sea, and making quite good progress on it, not even thinking about this other story.

With that one, it took me another three or four days to get back into the headspace for Children of the Starry Sea, just because the other story is so much darker and heavier. But that was more of a momentum / procrastination thing: getting started is always the hardest part of writing, at least for me, and I delayed starting back on Children of the Starry Sea until I was no longer in that headspace. In retrospect, I probably could have solved the headspace problem just by getting back to work, maybe with a partially written scene that was easy to finish.

In any case, the weird thing I’ve noticed is that the more I work on one project, the more it stimulates my mind to work on other projects. It’s not even that it detracts from the primary project—which is good, since otherwise how would I ever finish anything? But it does mean that if I want to have more story ideas, I should focus on whatever project is on my plate, rather than laying it aside and trying to come up with story ideas. In that way, it’s kind of like stargazing: if you look at a star directly, it tends to disappear, but if you look at it sideways, it becomes much more visible.

Or maybe it’s this new writing technique I’m trying out. Instead of trying to write my whole novel front to back, I’ve broken into scenes, and outlined the scenes well enough that I can write them out of order. So each day I ask myself “which scene(s) do I feel like writing today?” which is actually quite liberating.

I’ll do a deeper blog post on this writing technique after I’ve finished Children of the Starry Sea. If it works out well (and so far I think it is) I’ll have a lot of interesting things to share with you. But for now, I find it interesting that the more I write in my novel, the more ideas I get for other stories—and the easier it is to write them.

2019-10-17 Newsletter Author’s Note

This author’s note originally appeared in the October 17th edition of my author newsletter. To subscribe to my newsletter, click here.

I had a major realization about my creative process while writing “Sex, Life, and Love under the Algorithms.” My original goal was to take a short break from The Stars of Redemption in order to work through a creative block. Instead, I came away with a plan that could revolutionize the way I write everything.

The major realization was that my natural writing length is between 10k and 30k words. When I try to write short stories, they tend to balloon very quickly into something longer. But when I try to write novels, I always run into a creative block somewhere in the middle, usually around the 30k-40k word mark.

This doesn’t mean that I can’t write novels; just that I have to find ways to work through this problem. I remember asking Brandon Sanderson a question about this ten years ago while taking his writing class:

Me: So I have this problem, where every time I try to write a novel, I always get stuck in the middle and have to put it aside for a few months before I can finish it.

Brandon: But you finish it, right?

Me: Uh, yeah. But—

Brandon: Then what’s the problem? So long as you end up with a finished novel, your creative process is still working. It might not work the same as someone else’s, but it works.

Ever since then, that’s basically been my process. I work on a novel until I hit a creative block, then lay it aside and pick up another half-finished novel and work on it until I either finish it or hit another creative block, at which point I lay it aside to work on something else.

But in 2017, I decided that wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t producing novels fast enough to keep up the rigorous release schedule that I needed in order to stay relevant in the indie publishing world. So over the course of the next two years, I developed an outlining method to write faster, cleaner, and more efficiently.

I’ve written three or four novels using this new method, and in spite of all my best efforts, I always find myself getting stuck somewhere in the middle—in other words, after surpassing my natural writing length. At the same time, I still haven’t managed to write more than 2-3 novels per year.

It’s very difficult to keep writing on something that won’t be finished for months when your sales are starting to flag and you know you need a new release to boost everything again. Some people thrive on that sort of pressure, but not me.

That’s why “Sex, Life, and Love under the Algorithms” was so refreshing to write. From start to finish, it only took a month to write (and the only reason it took that long was because I was taking it easy). No creative blocks. No long breaks. What’s more, I now have a story to submit to the major markets, or self-publish, or do whatever else I can think of to earn money and reach new readers.

This made me wonder: what if I could write all of my novels this way?

In the golden age of science fiction, there was this thing called the “stitched novel.” Most SF writers specialized in short stories, but found it much more difficult to write novels. The solution they found to this problem was to stitch together several short stories that took place in the same world, and turn that into a novel. Asimov’s Foundation books were written this way, for example.

What if, instead of stitching together a novel after the fact, I used my novel outlines to come up with short stories or novelettes that I could later assemble into a finished novel? Each story would be a complete story in itself, and I might only reuse half of it in the novel, or rewrite it from a different character’s point of view.

Not only would I avoid hitting creative blocks, but I’d also be able to get paid during the novel-writing process itself, and also have more frequent new releases. I would also have more material to submit to the major magazines and other traditional short story markets, potentially getting my name out that way.

To keep my readers from paying for the same story twice, whenever I self-published one of these stories, I would make it free for the first couple of weeks. I would also retire most of these stories after the novel itself came out, though I might use one or two of them to help promote it.

There are a couple of novels I still need to finish using the old method. The Stars of Redemption is one of them, and I should probably also finish the Twelfth Sword Trilogy before doing anything too experimental. But I have some new story ideas that could really work out well with this assembled novel technique. Also, I think it’s time to retire the Star Wanderers novellas and combine them into a single novel, which could serve as a proof-of-concept.

I have no idea if this plan will work or not, but I figure it’s worth a try. If breaking things down to my natural writing length enables me to write more novels in the long run, that would be fantastic. And if the quality of my novels goes up because the short stories help to flesh out things like character and setting, so much the better.

2019-07-25 Newsletter Author’s Note

This author’s note originally appeared in the July 25th edition of my author newsletter. To sign up for my newsletter, click here.

So Mrs. Vasicek has been sick with the flu for the past two weeks. She’s getting better, but we’ve both been less than productive, and any semblance of a daily routine has basically been shot. Turns out that having your wife around all day is a very distracting thing. Who would have thought?

All of this has got me thinking about habits and routines: how important they are, how to make them work, and how not to get discouraged. I’ve been self-employed basically since graduating from college nine years ago. I’ve worked a lot of side jobs, but nothing that I’d call a “day job,” at first because there weren’t any (graduating in a major recession is tough), and later on because I wanted to focus on my writing career—which so far, has been working out.

When you’re self-employed, you basically have to make your own daily routine, because there isn’t anyone else to make it for you. A lot of people struggle with this, especially after quitting their day jobs. If you aren’t careful, you’ll find yourself sitting on the floor in your underwear eating peanut butter straight from the jar (not that I have any experience with this, of course). But if you buckle down and push through that phase, you learn a few things.

First, you learn that even the best routines always fall apart at some point. It’s just the nature of the beast. The circumstances of life are always changing, which means that you’ve got to be constantly adapting to them. Hanging on doggedly to a favorite routine just for the routine’s sake is setting yourself up for failure. Goals are a mean to an end, not an end in themselves.

Second, guilt is not a very good positive motivator. It’s helpful to keep you from doing the things you shouldn’t be doing, but it’s a horrible way to get yourself to do the things you should. I’ve known a lot of writers who constantly beat themselves up for not meeting their writing goals, to the point where it’s practically a full-time job. For a while, I’ve been there myself. Not good.

The best way to make yourself more productive is to find ways to make it more enjoyable. Personally, I find that writing is most enjoyable when I’m immersed in the story that I’m trying to tell. Sometimes, the best way to get immersed is to take a break, and sometimes, the best way is just to sit down and write. It takes a while to figure out what works. I’m still trying to figure it out better.

Third, when making a new routine, make sure to keep your eye on the end goal. What good is eating an elephant one bite at a time if you’re eating the wrong elephant? That’s why, when your routine starts to fall apart, it may be better to rethink what you’re trying to accomplish and rebuild it from the ground up, even though it’s easier just to tweak it.

That’s where I’m at right now. I could just push my deadlines back a couple weeks and try to go back to how things were going, but there’s a lot of other business related stuff on my plate that I’ve been neglecting, and I get the impression that the best way to move forward with writing is to prioritize that other stuff and get it out of the way.