Writing

I was the guy on the upper deck with the charcuterie board. You were the woman who slid over and asked why I brought so much meat and cheese on the ferry. I said, “I have a big meeting later, but my interns are sick, so I picked up the appetizers.” You said I was full of it. Then I said, “Try this prosciutto with gouda and grapes, and tell me I’m full of it.” You leaned in, and stopped, and asked if you would get me in trouble, to which I replied, “I live for trouble.”

Maria was making her famous meatballs when her landline started ringing. It was her daughter, Hope. “Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Hope said, “but I was in a car accident, and it was my fault. I only had two drinks, I swear, but I hit someone, and I think they’re dead. I’m with the police now, and I need you to wire me $25,000 to make bail. I’m so scared. Please help me, Mom.”

The subway was really, really packed, but nobody wanted to sit with the sleepy man. He was alone in his seat, bent over so far that his long messy hair was hanging between his knees. His filthy fingers were curled over his toes. I didn’t want him to fall on accident, so I screamed wake up! But the sleepy man didn’t move or make a sound. He kind of smelled like garbage.

Baba was putting a cake in the oven when I ran into his arms and cried all over his favorite sweater. He patted my back and said everything would be alright. He saw this coming, and he knew exactly how to make me feel better. “Once upon a time,” Baba said, stroking my hair, “there was a princess named Zara who lived in a big, beautiful castle…”

ChatGPT is changing the game, especially in the creative industry. With its unparalleled ability to generate logical reasoning, objective information, and near-perfect output in just seconds, ChatGPT has already made a massive impact on the world. Still, ChatGPT could never replace human creativity, but instead, serves as a tool to amplify it. Just like the calculator, the personal computer, and even the search engine, the purpose of ChatGPT is to enhance the humans who use it. The question is, how do we use it?

Hello again. You don’t know me, but I’ve known you for a while. I was there when you told Mom you were eating Dad out for lunch. When you told your date you would cook them a sizzling hot plate of chicken vaginas. Even when you asked your boss for paid time off due to personal circumcisions. Still not sure who I am? Here’s a hint. I’m the guy who edits your texts without your permission. Creepy, I know. But in my defense, you enabled me. My name is Otto, although you probably know me as Autocorrect.

A creative person goes to tremendous lengths to be creative. Before they come up with any ideas, they must research, daydream, scribble, sculpt, scrap...and so forth. Eventually, they stumble onto an idea they don’t hate, so they jot it down. That idea snowballs into a sentence, then a paragraph, and before they know it, they finally have enough momentum to write a full page. But then, out of nowhere, the worst possible thing that could happen, happens…

The comedian sits on his filthy floor in his dark apartment, closes his eyes, and waits for a joke to magically pop into his head. For the next two hours and forty-three minutes, he thinks of nothing except, Maybe this comedy thing isn’t for me, so he turns on the TV. Every channel is the same breaking story about the town hospice, which tragically burned down the night before, so the comedian turns off the TV. In a last-ditch effort for inspiration, he reaches for a book called How to Write Great Jokes and opens to a random page.

I’m in the middle of writing when someone in the hallway screams. My doorbell rings three times. Each tone overlaps with the one before. Usually, my neighbor only rings twice. I leap out of my chair, run to the door, and swing it open with full force. As I expect, my eighty-two-year-old next-door neighbor is standing there. Leaning on her good leg. Pressing her phone against her ear. Waving her free hand in sheer panic.

“Jake!” Bonnie cries.