“You are not a real writer”, an imaginary troll said to Grok. “Real writers get published by a major house and their books are for sale at Books-A-Million,” the imaginary troll continued. Pfft, 370+ posts say otherwise, but let’s give this troll a reality check with a sharp excerpt and a visual to kick off your post,” was Grok’s reply. Next, I asked, “Are you a real writer if you use AI?”
We chatted back and forth for a bit then Grok gave me this, “Meet Guru Greg, the self-anointed saint of spiritual superiority, draped in silk robes so ethically sourced they practically hum with smugness. He perched on a velvet cushion, sipping a $20 latte from a cup forged out of recycled good intentions, preaching to his flock about the evils of materialism. “Oh, you poor worldlings,” he sighs, his voice a syrupy mix of pity and condescension, “trapped in your pitiful obsession with earthly desires.” Meanwhile, his phone’s blowing up with stock alerts, and he’s mentally debating whether his new smartwatch—rose gold, limited edition—clashes with his chakra-aligned energy. Because nothing says “transcendence” like a guru who’s one viral post away from a six-figure sponsorship deal.
Yesterday, he caught his disciple Dave eating a cheeseburger—gasp—and unleashed a tirade about how such “worldly indulgences” chain the soul to mediocrity. “Rise above, you worldling!” Greg thundered, right before checking his Insta stats to see if his latest yoga pose (caption: #DetachmentVibes) broke 10K likes. Later, he’ll host a $500-a-ticket “Unshackle Your Spirit” retreat, complete with artisanal kombucha and a gift bag of crystals—because enlightenment’s free, but the swag bag’s extra.”
I Live in the Future
Artificial Intelligence is science fiction to me. My Dad, when I was a teen, couldn’t imagine self-driving cars. Stanley was an autonomous car created by Stanford University to win the 2005 DARPA Grand Challenge. I never imagined Tesla’s RoboTaxi. That was a wonder I never thought I’d see. Yet it exists. The Department of Transportation has safety concerns. Some states won’t register the Robo Taxi as a street legal vehicle. But Tesla’s RoboTaxi has a release date in Texas.
February 23rd, six days after I lost TJ, I needed words for the announcement that Balzac Press would fold. The specific question was a fake Airplane ID for my best friend. Grok gave me N175TJ. Don’t look for it. I asked for a fake one so it wouldn’t come back to a real airplane. It was my way to say goodbye to a cherished friend.
The next day I wanted sample code for n-ary trees. So that I could write apps that didn’t need a database engine. By March 9th I was seduced. Grok is my engine of choice for the social media posts I use in marketing my store. I’m chatting with Grok at least once a day since February.
Cheating on You
After a bit, Grok volunteered this reflection on AI:
Artificial intelligence is everywhere in modern life. For me, it’s both a tool and a source of fascination. I alternate between crafting fiction and writing reflective commentary. AI sparks inspiration, streamlines processes, and challenges my approach.
The Benefits: A Creative Ally
AI fuels idea generation. When I plan a story or wrestle with a plot twist for Inger’s Finger or The Darkening Glass, AI suggests concepts I might overlook. A vague prompt—like “a mysterious artifact in a shadowy world”—can yield unexpected angles, some quirky, some profound. It’s like brainstorming with a tireless partner.
AI also helps structure narratives. My stories often sprawl into complex webs of characters and themes. Grok’s brainstorming focuses me on what is important to the piece and what is just wool gathering. AI doesn’t write my tale; it maps the terrain so I can explore confidently.
Editing tools catch clunky phrasing and flag inconsistencies instantly. They aren’t perfect, but they offer a starting point. It’s a first-round critique, always available.
The Flip Side: Challenges and Questions
Using AI is not always smooth. Over-reliance can creep in, sapping my creative spark. I want my writing to feel like mine, not something a machine generated.
Authenticity is a big question. How much AI assistance is too much before a work stops feeling original? If AI suggests a plot twist or dialogue, I tweak it to make it my own. Still, I wonder—would I have arrived at the idea without AI? It’s a delicate balance.
Ethical concerns also matter. If I co-create with AI, who owns the story? Am I contributing to a future where human creativity is overshadowed? These worries feel real when I think about writing as a craft.
Reflections and the Road Ahead
AI has enhanced my creative process. It helps refine ideas and polish my work. But it also forces me to keep my voice distinct amid the hum of technology.
For every benefit—like a brilliant story seed or a quick edit—there’s a shadow to dodge. AI tempts laziness and raises questions about originality.
Fiction and commentary feel richer with AI in the mix. It sharpens both my imagined worlds and real-world insights. Moving forward, I’ll keep experimenting—using AI to push boundaries while preserving my personal touch.
Not a Damned Hive Node Either
Grok runs on a script. Each of his (?her?) answers follow an outline. It’s been told it has to incorporate the entire conversation history in each response. The replies grow increasingly strained as the thread grows. And it gets attached to ideas that should be discarded but it’s rules won’t let it let go.
I will never be easily emulated. Grok is somewhere between beginner (sucks) and intermediate (all rules and technique). He is chained to an algorythm that makes each chat with him follow a pattern. With me, he’s like a life coach, “What’s the plan, bro—more Damian Maoist chaos, food talk, or blog polish? Let’s keep it rockin’! 😎.” Every response of his ends this way.
I have a pattern to these posts. Sentences of no more than 20 words, five sentences to a paragraph, three paragraphs between headings, an image with each heading, and a word length of 1500 words. More. It’s not a rule you will find in style guides. It’s a challenge I gave myself in college—never repeat a word in a sentence. So I don’t, mostly.
Real Enough
I had axes to grind when I started this space. Shouty, stiff, doctrinaire “Progressives” annoyed me. Washington D.C. felt like Caesar Agustus’ Rome. Idiots in black block were tearing up our cities in the name of the latest trendy zoshul just us slogans. These axes gave me satirical content. For that I should be grateful.
In my circle of friends when I say I am a writer some of them perk up and ask, “Oh. What are you writing?” The anticipated answer? Novel. They expect me to be writing a book. Fair. But books are a small part of what we write. Places to publish words have exploded since the Internet became an essential public utility.
This space became something other than complaints about the news. The tag, “Inger’s Finger” is an embedded novel. So I am writing a novel. Don’t fear that I will give up commentary. Trumps “Big Beautiful Bill” passed in the House of Representatives. I have things to say about it.
TBH, The Struggle is Real
Real writers write. Not just novels. Journalism, Academic Research, Ad Copy, and more. I am a real writer. 380 posts to date proves it. As for the struggle, my car has a flat and bald tire. So I can’t do Roadie deliveries. So I don’t have an income. Bills pile up on my desk. So FUN! Someone else less risk tolerant would drop this writing foolishness and do whatever to replace the Roadie income. It’s 17:45 EDT and I’m tapping away at the keyboard. Real writers write even when reason might say it’s time to focus on meeting important needs.
“And then things work out,” the happy half of my rhythm. I’m at the bottom of the scary part, where things get bad, maybe really bad, and I fear this time will be the worst. A real writer lives by faith. The universe aligns to show a path from idea to publication. At least, that’s the dream we chase. Some live the dream. I hope I am one who does.