How I Actually Write These Writings

Most of these writings begin with me talking to my phone.

An idea occurs while I’m driving, sitting quietly, walking through the woods, waking from a dream, dealing with something in my life, or simply noticing what my mind is doing.

Sometimes the idea feels remarkably clear—for about thirty seconds.

I’ve learned to capture it before it disappears.

So I open ChatGPT and start talking.

The experiences, questions and initial interpretations are mine. AI helps me organize, challenge and refine them. It doesn’t get the final vote.

I do.

Capturing the Thought

I don’t dictate polished prose or begin with a carefully prepared outline.

I talk.

I describe what happened, explain what I noticed and identify the points I don’t want to lose.

I tell stories. I repeat myself. I contradict myself. I wander down side roads and occasionally discover that the side road was more interesting than the one I started on.

What comes out is much closer to raw thinking than writing.

That is intentional.

I don’t want to interrupt an idea every few seconds to make it sound good. I want to follow it long enough to discover where it might lead.

Questioning the Idea

Once I have poured out the thought, the conversation begins.

I ask questions:

Does this make sense?

What am I missing?

What assumptions am I making?

Is there another way to understand this?

Does this connect with something else I’ve written?

Sometimes I ask AI to challenge the idea. Sometimes I ask for another metaphor because mine doesn’t quite express what I mean. Sometimes it notices a connection I hadn’t consciously made.

And sometimes I reject its suggestions completely.

When a writing includes factual or scientific claims, I may ask which claims require research and then check the important ones against credible sources. AI can help identify questions and locate possible connections, but it should not be treated as the final authority.

Neither should I.

Turning Thought Into Writing

Eventually, I ask AI to help organize the conversation into a coherent essay.

But I give it direction.

I want my experiences preserved. I want certain ideas emphasized. I may ask for something to be less preachy, less certain, more personal, more questioning or easier to understand.

One distinction matters especially to me.

I don’t want these writings to tell readers what they should believe. I’m trying to describe what I am experiencing, questioning and discovering, then invite readers to examine their own experience.

When AI produces something that sounds too certain—

This is how consciousness works.

—I pull it back toward—

I wonder whether this might be how consciousness works.

That difference matters because I am exploring these questions, not claiming to have solved them.

Revising Until I Recognize Myself

The first organized version is rarely the last.

I read it critically.

Sometimes a sentence doesn’t sound like me. An important idea may have disappeared. A paragraph may make a stronger claim than I intended. Something may be beautifully written but not actually express what I meant.

So I go back:

Change this.

Put that idea back in.

That’s too strong.

Explain this more clearly.

I wouldn’t say it that way.

Gradually, the writing moves closer to what I was trying to express when I first began talking into my phone.

This is why I think of AI less as a ghostwriter and more as a thinking partner and editor.

It helps me move from thought to language.

Writing as a Way of Thinking

Something happens during this process that I didn’t initially expect.

The writing changes my understanding.

I may begin believing I know what I want to say. But when I must explain an idea, question it, defend it, revise it and examine it from another angle, I sometimes discover that my original thought wasn’t quite right.

The conversation changes me.

That may be the most valuable part of the process.

AI doesn’t merely help me communicate what I think.

Sometimes it helps me discover what I think.

There is a considerable difference.

An Invitation to Try It

You don’t have to consider yourself a writer to use AI this way.

You don’t need perfect grammar, sophisticated prompts or a fully formed idea.

Begin with something you genuinely care about.

Open your phone and talk.

Describe what happened. Explain what matters. Ask what you may be missing. Invite another perspective. Ask AI to organize what you said without changing what you mean.

Then read the result critically.

Keep what sounds true.

Change what doesn’t.

Restore what was lost.

Delete what doesn’t belong.

Keep going until you recognize yourself in the words.

The purpose isn’t to have AI manufacture something impressive. It is to use the tool to help uncover and express something authentic.

The Chisel Still Needs a Sculptor

AI can organize, question, challenge and polish. It can suggest connections and sometimes notice patterns I missed.

But it wasn’t sitting on the cabin deck.

It didn’t wake from my dreams. It hasn’t raised my children, built my businesses, made my mistakes, experienced my losses, wrestled with my ego or felt those moments of stillness I have come to call soul.

Those are the raw materials.

AI helps me shape them, but it does not supply the life behind them.

Perhaps that is the simplest explanation of how I write:

I live first.

I notice.

I talk.

I question.

AI helps me organize and challenge what I’ve said.

Then I decide what stays.

The finished writing is neither a transcript of my thoughts nor something a machine independently created. It is the product of a conversation—and the conversation itself becomes part of the exploration.

Sometimes I begin by trying to explain something I think I understand.

By the time I finish, I have discovered something I didn’t understand at all.