As fiction writers, the first time we played with ChatGPT seriously freaked us out. The tenth time not so much. Yes, it can write a “story” that makes sense, but if a human wrote it, you’d toss it away after the first few paragraphs. It’s like the Russian proverb: “The marvel is not that the bear dances well, but that the bear dances at all.”
Once we get past the fear, what use can we, again as writers, make of these tools? People talk about using AI as a partner to spark brainstorming or suggest ideas. That makes a certain sense, but large language models work by digesting content scraped from existing material and spitting out the most statistically probable answer—in other words, a cliche. Do you really want a cliche machine offering you suggestions?
My modest proposal is that there’s no need to turn to artificial tools. You already have a large language model at your fingertips—if you only learn how to work with it. I’m talking about your unconscious mind. You’ve already spent your life training it on books, movies, TV episodes and other story forms. It knows how a story should look and feel. At the same time, all of your personal experiences have gone into training it as well. These are unique to you and the exact opposite of cliches.
So, how do you tap this marvelous resource? Well, here’s where ChatGPT is actually useful—not as a tool but as a metaphor. Treat your unconscious mind like a chatbot. In other words, give it a prompt. Let’s say you have the basic idea for a story. Take this idea and ask your imagination what that story would look like. Or who it would happen to. Or where it would happen. Any question that prompts your mind’s eye to start generating images (or words, depending on whether you’re more visual or auditory.)
For this to work, of course, you need to be able to access the response. This takes a little practice. Your conscious mind will probably try to intrude with “logical” answers. Or you may find yourself remembering a book you read with a similar story idea. Or your fears will intrude, telling you you’re wasting your time, this will never work, maybe you’re not a real writer, and on and on and on.
The trick is to get those parts of your brain to quieten enough for the deeper part to be heard. The concept is not all that different from meditation. Rather than quieting your whole mind, however, you’re quieting the parts that normally chatter. Many people walk as a way to calm the chatter, especially in a natural setting like a park or woods. Others use meditation techniques such as focussing on the breath. Still others put on music, sometimes even the same piece over and over. What you’re looking for is that moment when an answer appears in your mind. It may not be what you were expecting. In fact, it hopefully isn’t. If it surprises you, you’re on the right track.
Another sign you’re onto something is if the image you get is vaguely disturbing. It may be too personal. It may be more intense than you were expecting. It may veer into deeper territory or involve a character too close to you or someone you know. These are all hints that you’re tapping the deeper voice.
Ask your mind to play out the scenario. What happens next? How far do things really go? Try the story idea on for size. Be willing to throw out your original idea if your deeper mind suggests something richer. Let things play out as far as your mind will take you. See how the story it gives makes you feel? Is it something you’d want to read? Does it make you curious to know what happens next?
This is when your conscious mind might to intrude to say that what you’re seeing isn’t “commercial.” Or it doesn’t fit your style. Or whatever the judgement is. Remind yourself you’re the one in charge. Just as with a chatbot, you get to choose what you accept or reject. It’s literally a no-risk proposition.
Over the next few days, if you find the idea keeps coming to your mind, you’ll know you’re truly on to something. If it means throwing out your outline, so much the better. If it doesn’t fit the current popular story formula, awesome! Your unconscious knows how a story should go. It’s “scraped” a massive amount of stories over your life. Trust it.
Once you’ve decided to commit to the story from your brain, you can go back to it and ask for more details. How should it start? Who should be in the first scene? How do you best set up for the rest of the story? You can even ask it to give you the best opening line.
Once you’ve started, it’s time to get to know your characters. You can treat one as its own llm. Start asking it questions. Don’t be too quick to jump to writing down dialog—unless the character starts saying things that fit in the scene. If that happens, again you’re on the right track. But don’t be surprised if the character surprises you. In fact, it’s to be hoped for. Are they a different gender than you were thinking? A different race or sexual orientation? Are they an asshole? A surprisingly decent person? What does their voice sound like?
If your conscious mind balks at not jumping into putting words on paper, tell it you’ll get there. In fact, if you succeed in making a good connection with your unconscious you may find the book begins to flow out of you.
This is the magical state many writers have spoken about. At its best it feels like you’re not writing at all; you’re taking dictation. The story is coming through you. You may find yourself sitting down each day so you can find out what happens next.
If so, you’ll know a joy few have ever experienced. And the result will be a story no one else could have written but you—especially not a chatbot.