Writing Tips (Sometimes): Let's Talk About ChatGPT (and other text generative AI)

(This is part of my series on AI. Click here to read about AI in general and Google AI Audiobook Narration. Or, sign up here to get these delivered directly to your inbox!)

ChatGPT is the talk of the century! Well, maybe not the century, but it’s definitely the talk of the year. ChatGPT has been available to regular people in some form since June 2020, and was built by a company called OpenAI. Their language model is one of the most sophisticated in existence, and they have continued to improve it since their launch. Currently, ChatGPT4 can pass the bar exam.

Mostly, ChatGPT can answer questions, draft emails and blog posts, or summarize large concepts. And depending upon the parameters, it can do so in a wide variety of voices and styles.

Take this meme, for example, in which ChatGPT has been instructed to respond to the user’s requests… as a pirate.

ChatGPT is not the only text-based AI. For example, NovelAI and Sudowrite are designed to aid in drafting longer form fiction. You may have also heard of Claude, which is in beta, but is more like a combination of ChatGPT and these longer form tools. GoogleBard is an alternative to ChatGPT but built on a different model, and so has a very different vibe. Microsoft also has Bing Chat (which provides citations!), and there are other lesser known tools like Jasper.ai, ChatSonic, and YouChat.

These tools are simple to use. All you do is type in your prompt and they respond. If you don’t like the response, you change your prompt.

The key to successful text generative AI is in the prompt. You have to be able to communicate with the tool exactly what you’re looking for in a way that will produce the desired outcome. This requires some practice, but it is a skill you can develop.

The biggest objection among authors is that these text-based tools are “doing the work for them.” Many writers use this reasoning to suggest that the tools should never be used in any way.

But let me offer a comparison: ghostwriters.

Many writers (James Patterson, for example) use ghostwriters to help them produce work faster. In his MasterClass, James Patterson goes over his process in depth, which basically involves writing an outline, passing it off to a ghostwriter who writes it in sections, and then revising the written manuscript one section at a time.

There are some writers who are using AI tools in the same way: they come up with the idea and the structure for the story, then use the tools to spit out the rough copy, which they then revise and edit to craft it into something that matches their vision for the story.

But, there are other writers who are using it for research, idea generation, or to help them move through tough sections, but still do all the drafting themselves—just like how most of us don’t use ghostwriters, but we do use Google Search, libraries, and friends. These writers treat the AI tools more like a personal assistant or a writing buddy.

Are some writers simply copy-paste-publishing? Sure. But some writers are also writing 50k words during NaNoWriMo and publishing that without editing and revising. There will always be people who try to game the system, but that doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world as we know it.

Back when indie publishing first became a thing, there was a surge of writers publishing without sufficient editing. I can honestly say, I was one of those writers. The process of publishing a book in this method was new, I lacked funds to hire professionals to improve my book, and so I just went for it. I have since gone back, cleaned up the copy, done professional covers, and improved my process for future books.

Since that era in publishing, the indie author community has changed direction. There are courses on how to publish books that are professional and high quality. Due to the Big 6—Big 5—Big 4? buying each other up, there is a glut of quality designers, editors, and experts in publishing available for hire by indie authors. We have developed processes and procedures, and the surge of low-quality books that were originally being published has decreased significantly.

The same will happen with AI-generated books. The good ones, the ones that feel like art, will rise to the top, and the rest will sputter and die. Processes and procedures will be developed. Authors will figure out the best ways to use these tools to enhance their own process and create quality stories that readers love.

We just have to be patient.

My personal use of these tools tends to focus around reducing distractions and cutting down on research. Instead of spending two hours digging through baby name sites, I instead ask ChatGPT for a list of names in a specific category or with a specific meaning, and just pick one. Instead of reading a dozen articles on knot tying, I ask ChatGPT “What kind of knot would you use for this purpose in this context?” Instead of getting lost following rabbit trails on Wikipedia, I ask ChatGPT, “What are the top philosophical thought experiments to help understand existentialism?” so I can focus my efforts on the most relevant concepts.

So far today, I have asked ChatGPT how old it is, how it would define “text generative AI” and what I should do to celebrate my birthday when it rolls around.

I have yet to copy and paste even a single phrase into a book, but my writing time has gotten about 30% more productive.

It’s important to remember that these language models aren’t thinking.

The idea that they can “think” is entirely science fiction—combined with a human tendency to anthropomorphize anything that feels human-like. Rather, they are doing math. After all, that’s what computers are good at. Calculating.

Because it’s text-based, meaning we read it inside our own heads; and because the AI is so sophisticated in its calculations and algorithms; and because of the immense quantity of data it was trained on, the tool’s output can often make it feel to us like it’s thinking.

But it isn’t.

It is simply running a predictive calculation based on the prompt you inputted, guessing at what response you are most likely to want from it.

Ultimately, one thing remains true: the human controlling the process has to make a choice. Just like in every other form of art.

And that choice is yours.

You choose what tools to use. You choose what prompts to input. You choose what outputs most reflect what you’re looking for. And you choose how you want to use those outputs in the final product—if at all.

Whether we are talking about text-generative AI, image-generative AI, audio-generative AI, or anything else—the fact remains that you must still make the choice.

Despite the incredible advancements of these technologies, they still require a human element. And that human element is what gives art soul.

Absurdism & the Feud of the Robins

Here where we are in PA, spring is basically over and summer has arrived. The cherry blooms are past, the lilacs are gone, and most of the trees are fully leafed out. Josh (spouse) has started mowing the lawn multiple times a week, and with this new activity has come the annual feud of the robins.

Have you ever noticed that robins look a bit angry? It's something about the white feathers around their eyes, I think. Anyway, while Josh is mowing, they watch with that angry glare—his ever present, ever wary nemesis. 

And when he's not mowing, they'll come close to the house, looking for worms and bugs, and because I look out the windows all day while I'm working, I take up-close photos and text them to Josh. To show him how they're encroaching on his territory.

It's all quite amusing. 

We have a lot of birds around our house—blue jays, woodpeckers, cardinals, chickadees, mourning doves, hummingbirds, tree swallows, grackles, wrens, thrashers, sparrows, orioles, crows, the occasional raven, and a big hawk that lives in the woods at the bottom of the hill. But none are quite as audacious and snarky as the robin.

The whole feud is a bit absurd, and I don't mean absurd in the sense of "ridiculous" (though it is that), but in the philosophical sense of The Absurd (in the Albert Camus sense). 

Absurdism is one of my favorite philosophical constructs. If you're unfamiliar, absurdism has two primary presuppositions: 

1. Humans innately crave ultimate, universal meaning.

2. Ultimate, universal meaning does not exist. 

Albert Camus, who originally wrote about this in the book The Myth of Sisyphus, suggested that the conflict between these two ideas is inherently ridiculous or absurd (hence why it's called absurdism). His solution to this conflict essentially boils down to acceptance: acknowledging ultimate meaninglessness in everything we do, despite the longing for meaning, and choosing to live our lives to whatever "the fullest" means for us. He used the example of Sisyphus, whose punishment for being a generally terrible person and cheating death twice, was to roll a boulder up a hill in Hades over and over for all eternity.

From The Myth of Sisyphus by Camus: "Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe now without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of this mountain full of night, alone forms a world. The struggle itself to the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy."

What does this all have to do with robins? Well, the robins come around every spring. Without fail. They glare from a distance, watching as Josh cuts the grass and pulls the weeds and trims the bushes. Year after year after year. 

And every year, Josh glares back. "Damn robins," he says to me, and we both laugh. 

We laugh because we know it's meaningless. Despite the fact that it feels meaningful. 

We laugh because we made up this story, and this story brings us joy, and the joy makes our lives feel meaningful, even if it's not.

We laugh because it's absurd, in all the best ways.

In the same way, I write book after book after book, and draft newsletter after newsletter. I wake up every morning and feed the cats; I move the laundry along; I make dinner. And even in the repetition, in the sameness, in the rolling of the same old rock up the hill, there is contentment.

Writing Tips (Sometimes): Selling Books In Person

This is part of my series of essays for writers. Get them delivered to your inbox by signing up here!

Me and my 7th anniversary gift from Josh: a 280 million year old (!!!) piece of petrified pine from AZ!

I went to a comic con a few months back and over the course of the three-day weekend, I sold 18 books. So yeah, not my best sales day ever.

I’ve done a lot of events over the years, particularly in my earlier author days. I’ve done everything from large and small book signings to comic cons to craft fairs to outdoor festivals, and holiday markets. I’ve sold 0 books at some, and once even made around $1200 at a 4-hour craft fair. I’m not sure where it came from, but for a long time, I had it in my head that if I wanted to be successful as an author, then I had to do in-person events.

But there’s a problem with this logic. And the problem is the math.

The key to a successful business is profit. And with books, we’re talking profits of roughly $0.35 - $10 per sale. This means that to make profits of $50,000 per year, you’d have to sell in the range 10,000 books or more.

Even if you did an event every single week of the year, you’d have to average 190 sales per event to even come close to making that amount of money, and that doesn’t account for event fees, which range from $20 - $500 per event, gas, hotel fees, transaction fees, and table set-up supplies. In addition, you have to purchase enough upfront inventory to have to sell, which if you use print on demand and can order books at $3 per book, will still require tens of thousands of dollars in upfront cash.

In addition, every single sale has to be handled by you. If you only have one book, then each sale is simply that: a sale. You need a new customer for every single purchase, which means not only do you need 10,000 sales every year, you need 10,000 new customers.

And if you want to scale, then you have to look at other models—hiring people to sell for you (which costs money), selling through bookstores or malls (where you have to share profits), or partnering up with other authors to have more inventory available for potential customers (which means they may be poaching sales from you).

Every efficiency you add in will cost more money or take away from your profits.

If you’re bored by all the math, I don’t blame you. But the conclusion you should draw is that in-person events aren’t a great way to make a living wage from selling books because they’re extremely difficult to scale.

I definitely think they have a place in a larger context. Being visible in your local community is great, and developing relationships with readers always has value. Getting newsletter sign-ups or developing relationships with other authors can also have immense value.

Just make sure you understand the numbers before you go all in on traveling from event to event in an attempt to make money.

Did you know cats can get acne? Yep. Our beloved Wilfredo Potato gets blackheads all over his chin. We lovingly call it “catcne” lol.

Spring Swarm Season!

I have very exciting news! When we were at the dog park the other day, we saw a swarm of bees! It had just landed on a tree branch, only about six feet off the ground. There weren't too many people around, which was good, because a lot of people are afraid of bees. 

I called several local beekeepers, and finally got one to come and collect the swarm, so they have a new home. I was very relieved to hear about it.

You may not know this about me, but I grew up in a beekeeping family. My dad has had beehives for as long as I can remember; I can't tell you how many times I got stung on my feet because I walked around barefoot constantly. Every year, I would help him with the honey harvest, and he often would take me out on swarm calls. As I got older, I helped with colony removal from buildings, attended a couple conferences with him, and helped with bee events in different capacities. 

Seeing the swarm at the park, hanging out with it for a bit, and warning dog owners not to get too close, made me awfully nostalgic. I'm reasonably certain I'll never have my own bees. They're a lot of work. And expensive to get started with. 

On the other hand, you never know. Perhaps the call will grow too strong and I won't be able to resist. 

Since I'm writing about this, let me give you a few tips in case you encounter bees in your springtime travels. First of all, if you're allergic, please carry your EpiPen when you're wandering around outside. There are several varieties of bees that live in the ground, and if you step on their house, they will sting.

If you see a swarm settle onto a branch or bush, and it seems like a weird spot for a lump of bees (this is more likely to happen in the spring), leave it alone and call a beekeeper. These bees are probably not going to be aggressive, so don't panic, but it's still best to leave them alone. They are wild animals. You can search "X County Beekeeping Association" to find the closest beekeepers to you. They often have a "swarm call" list on the site, with at least one phone number. You can call 911, and sometimes they will help, and sometimes not. Beekeepers will usually retrieve these bees for free, at least if they're not too hard to get to.

If you come across bees and they seem to be flying in and out of some kind of hole—in a tree, a wall, a garage, a log—or if you see any comb, this is probably a colony. Definitely keep your distance and call a beekeeper. This is likely their home, and they will defend it if they perceive you to be a threat. Beekeepers often charge to remove these colonies from various locations, even if they are honeybees. This is because it is significantly more work to uproot an established colony than catch a swarm, and the bees will likely be somewhat aggressive as they are defending their home.

Bees are great. Don't kill spring dandelions. Buy honey locally!

Anyway, all that said, I love bees and hope you do too. I plan to incorporate beekeeping into a future book, but I haven't quite committed to whatever that will look like yet. 

How To Pants A Novel

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My next book for writers is here! Technically, it was here two months ago, but I was so busy, I didn’t have a chance to announce it.

It's called How To Pants A Novel.

Blurb: 
If you've spent much time in the writing community, you've probably run across this question: "Are you a plotter or a pantser?" Plotters plan and organize their books ahead of time, while pantsers "write by the seat of their pants"—or, in other words, wing it.

But how? How does that work? How is it possible to just sit down and write a book?

The short answer is: it's not. There is a lot more that goes on in a writer's brain than just sitting down and writing a book. Even if that's what it looks like from the outside.

How To Pants A Novel is an explication of my experience as a lifelong pantser. It explores what the process of pantsing a book might look like, delves into the intricacies of crafting a story on the fly, and answers a few common questions often posed to pantsers.

Pantsing is a less frequently discussed method of writing a book, but for many writers, it’s the only way that works. And if you’re one of those writers—or if you’re not sure what kind of writer you are—hopefully this book will help you better understand and refine your own process into something that works the best for you.

You may be familiar with the concepts of “plotting” and “pantsing,” which are both different ways of thinking about how to approach the process of writing a book. Plotting essentially means “to create an outline of the book before beginning to draft it” and pantsing means “writing by the seat of your pants”—in other words, winging it with no outline. And for those who split the difference—they're called plantsers!

Different writers have different brains, and different brains work better with different methods. Outlining and organizing a story before beginning the drafting process is really common, and there are tons of books about it. Pantsing is less common, and there are far fewer books about it.

So I decided to add my perspective into the mix.

This book explores my own process of pantsing—or intuitive writing or discovery writing, as politer people than I like to call it.

Now, many books on plotting, for example, aim to give other writers a definitive process they can follow on their own. But that is not what I attempted to do with How To Pants A Novel.

I think there is this (false) idea that pantsers simply “sit down and write a book” and just like magic, a fully formed manuscript appears. But this isn’t true. There is a lot going on behind the scenes that is invisible to readers, and also to other writers watching a pantser work. 

So my goal was to explicate my own process, so that perhaps other pantsers would see some similarities with their own process, and maybe find ways to improve it or create efficiencies for themselves, and be encouraged to embrace pantsing—if that’s the right method for them; and to the contrary, encourage other writers to embrace outlining or explore the gray area between, if pantsing is the wrong method for them.

All that said, How To Pants A Novel is now available! And if you feel so inclined, please consider leaving a review.

If you would like an entry into my writing for writers, the first book in the series, How To Build A Book Marketing Strategy, is free!