The rest of this answer to Dora applies to the second category.
Writing is thinking.
Involving AI in The Ugly First Draft stage gets in the way. It starts to shape the narrative and guide our thinking in ways we might not even realize. Ways we don't want.
Using AI to write a first draft feels to me like I've been dropped into a planned community with tended paths and sidewalks and signposts. An enthusiastic golden retriever bounces alongside me, dropping tennis balls relentlessly at my feet. How about this? How about this? How about now?
Writing without AI lets me wander around the wilderness. Machete at my hip, cutting through the thick undergrowth of unexplored territory. Sometimes I get stuck and have to backtrack. Sometimes I
get scratched by the brambles. Forest creatures bite my ankles. It's uncomfortable. You sweat a lot.
I like that feeling—of exploring someplace new.
I even like feeling a little uncomfortable and sweaty, because I feel connected to the work.
It's not about the output. It's the experience I had to get there... and the insights I was surprised to trip over along the path, rising up like thirsty, twisted roots.
BUT THAT SAID (again: bold)
Sometimes that
feels hard. Or boring. Or we didn't get enough sleep last night.
Sometimes we don't know where to start.
Maybe we struggle with the Blank Page Demon, a monster who guards the drawbridge into the wilderness and blocks our entry.
In those situations, turn to that golden retriever: enthusiastic, motivating, trainable. It will endlessly volley and play around: sparking ideas, outlines, sniffing in new directions. Give you a place to start by dropping the tennis ball at your feet.
I try NOT to be precious about the mechanics of writing. (I am precious about creativity, tho.) Hand over heart... whatever works for you to get ideas out of your head and into some format you can share with others is GREAT.
Yet, at the same time, let yourself wander in the wilderness a bit. It's worth it.
* * *
✉️ FAQ #2:
"I'm an editor who is lucky to work with a wonderful team of freelance writers. They all bring something unique to our blog, and I love working with them.
"But
when you're working with writers who are already very good, and have (in some instances) a lot more experience than you, how can you still add value in your edits?
Also, how can you communicate your edits tactfully and constructively?" —Emily
Emily:
A challenge with experienced writers who have been writing about the same topic for a long time is that they can easily forget that readers are not them.
Readers do not have the same intimacy with the material. They do not have the same depth of understanding.
Established writers can easily fall under the Curse of Knowledge, which is a spell by a wizard who lives in the Land of Too Familiar and commutes into Blog City via the express bus (Subject Matter Expert line) to litter the sidewalk with their letters and lingo.
Your perspective as someone newer to the material is valuable and refreshing.
An editor's job is two-fold:
1) To make the writing look good. Your job is to be a proxy for the audience. You are their representative, their
ambassador, their eyes and ears—repping them before a piece is published and out in the word. Your job is to make whatever you publish clear, accessible, enjoyable.
2) To make the writer look
good—not by wielding a red pen of shame like a cudgel over precious prose, but by helping them create their best work. A great editor is a champion of the writer and a true partner.*
*(One who gets none
of the credit, by the way—is there a more selfless job in content?)
So how do you deliver feedback, with both those jobs in mind?
Invite a dialogue; don't deliver an edict. You're inviting the writer to give their perspective on your suggested edits. You're a collaborator who bridges the mind of the writer and the mind of the reader.
Approach edits like "Have you considered..." or "It might be clearer if..." as a way to suggest improvements without undermining the writer's expertise or destroying their self-esteem. (Writers
are sensitive.) (Mmmm aren't we all.)
Explain the rationale. "This is what is tripping me up" is more helpful than "I don't like this."
Avoid muddling the voice. Edits to improve the overall flow and consistency of the piece? Tighter transitions? Smoothing the tone? Helping the readability?
Proofreading? Cool, cool, cool. Neutering the style and voice of a writer? Not so much.
Read everyone's writing out loud, shout it out in
your home office or at your desk!
This is my forever suggestion for making writing enjoyable.
Yours. The golden retriever's. anyone's.
* * *
✉️ FAQ #3: "Your book was transformative for me. I was
wondering if you know any authors that write like you—engaging, funny, witty—but that focus on tips and strategies for writing novels. There are tons of books on this but I was hoping to get a recommendation so that I could pick up a book that would be as fun to read as Everybody Writes. Any thoughts?" —Adine
Maybe Save the Cat!
Writes a Novel by Jessica Brody.
It's one of a series of Save the Cat books; the core premise is that every good story needs an early "save the cat" moment—a scene where the protagonist
does something positive that makes the audience bond with and root for them.
Pros
- A clear, structured approach to storytelling
- Gives you a "beat sheet" based on what has worked
for other writers
- A concrete, connect-the-dots approach
- Breezy writing style
Cons
- That connect-the-dots approach might feel like you're populating a planned
community with a very restrictive HOA
- Geared toward sales (or mainstream commercial success) versus creative expression (a tension in creative work everywhere)
I have a novel that I want to
write in the back of my mind, too. (Doesn't everyone?)
