Jo Michaels Blog: writing tools

Hello, and happy Wednesday, everyone! Today, we're continuing our look inside AI series and examining Sudowrite. As before, I'll use the same prompt I gave ChatGPT, do no editing, and insert comments here and there as we trudge along.

Ready? Grab a drink, and get ready to rumble!

So, when I first started the free trial over at Sudowrite, it asked me a bunch of questions like:

What genre(s) do you write?
What level of writer are you (pro, starting, etc.)?
What are you looking to accomplish (first draft, plot, etc.)?
Have you ever made money from writing?
And other questions like that.

I found it super easy to login and get going, but it was a lot more detailed in what it wanted you to input:

It's pretty! So, I used the basic stuff from my vague outline (Elara, vampire, and Rhys, shape-shifting unicorn) to fill out the fields and had it generate character info by simply putting in a name of a character and a race:

As you can see, that worked pretty well, even if it is kinda generic...

Now, I gave it the loose outline for Chapter 1 ONLY (reminder: Chapter 1: Elara, a lonely vampire, hunts in the forest. She senses a strange presence), and clicked Create Chapter One:

It made me click to generate beats before it would output (at least it's thorough). It output this:

Begin with Elara moving silently through the dense forest, her senses heightened as she searches for prey. Describe her movements as fluid and deliberate, emphasizing her predatory nature.
As she navigates the underbrush, have Elara reflect briefly on the solitude of her existence, hinting at her internal conflict between her instincts and her desire for connection.
Introduce the forest setting through Elara's perspective, using her acute senses to convey the oppressive darkness and the whisper of leaves underfoot, creating an atmosphere of dread.
Have Elara pause, sensing a shift in the air that signals the presence of something unfamiliar. Describe her reaction as a mix of curiosity and wariness, her instincts alerting her to potential danger.
As she continues her hunt, weave in subtle hints of her age and experience through her thoughts, perhaps recalling similar moments from her past that have left an indelible mark on her psyche.
Allow Elara to catch a fleeting glimpse of movement in the shadows, something that defies her understanding. Use this moment to heighten the tension, her mind racing with possibilities.
Have her follow the elusive presence, her steps careful and calculated, as if she is both hunter and hunted. Convey her determination to uncover the source of this disturbance.
As she draws closer, let Elara's thoughts drift to the network of allies she maintains, pondering whether this presence could be a threat to her carefully constructed world.
Introduce a moment of unexpected warmth as Elara recalls a past encounter with a trusted ally, a rare connection that briefly softens her guarded demeanor.
Bring her focus back to the present as the strange presence seems to vanish, leaving only an unsettling silence in its wake. Describe her frustration and the lingering sense of unease.
Have Elara pause to consider her next move, weighing the risks of pursuing this mystery further against the safety of retreating to familiar territory.
As she makes her decision, allow a moment of introspection where Elara acknowledges the psychological torment of her existence, the constant balancing act between predator and seeker of connection.
Conclude the chapter with Elara retreating deeper into the forest, her mind still haunted by the strange presence and the questions it raises. Leave the reader with a sense of foreboding and anticipation for what lies ahead.

Finally, I was able to click for it to do the writing (a new writer would be overwhelmed by now). Here's what we got (it decided on first person, unlike GPT, which gave me third without me asking):

It labeled the beats, by the way.

1 - 2

I threaded through the forest, a silent wraith among the ancient trees. My movements were fluid, deliberate—a dance perfected over countless years of necessity. The hunt was second nature to me; my every sense honed for this singular purpose. The evening's chill caressed my pale skin as I glided beneath the gnarled boughs, eyes scanning the darkness for the telltale signs of life.

Okay. Why are we using words like boughs? This is YA. Just say limbs. Still, not terrible.

The solitude of these woods mirrored the desolation within me. I was a solitary creature by design, yet at times, the silence that surrounded me seemed almost deafening. I longed for a connection, a tether to another soul that might understand the depth of my being. But such thoughts were fleeting shadows, whisked away by the ever-present instincts that steered me back to the hunger that drove me.

When is it silent for a vampire? They have super hearing... Plus, that sentence starting with but is making me want to get stabby.

With each step, I brushed against the underbrush, leaves whispering secrets to the night as I passed. The forest was my confidant, my silent partner in this endless waltz of survival. Yet, in its depths, I perceived my own reflection—an echo of the predator that stalked within, always lurking beneath the veneer of civility I presented to the world.

As I moved, I pondered the tenuous balance of my existence—the ceaseless tug-of-war between predator and yearning spirit. The forest knew me as both, and in its embrace, I allowed myself the rare indulgence of introspection. I was a creature of the dark, bound to it, even as I sought the faintest glimmer of something more within the enigmatic shadows.

But for now, the hunt called, and I answered.

Again with the but...

3 - 4

The forest, with its gnarled trees and dense canopy, swallowed the light of the moon, casting everything in a monochrome palette of shadows. The air was thick with the scent of decay, an undercurrent of life returning to the earth from which it sprang. I trod lightly over the damp carpet of leaves, their whispers trailing my every step like cautious specters wary of revealing too much. Here, in this sylvan labyrinth, the darkness was a tangible thing, a shroud that draped over my shoulders and clung to my skin.

More obscure words. Sylvan? Okay, but I'd edit that out. You're writing for teens, and you don't have to use words they need to look up in every third paragraph. We get it. You're smarter than we are.

A weight lay upon the world here, oppressive as if the very atmosphere sought to suffocate any spark of light or hope. Yet, I navigated this gloom with ease, for it was an old friend, a companion as familiar to me as my own shadow. My senses, ever attuned to the subtlest of changes, registered each rustle, each muted heartbeat of the nocturnal creatures that hid just out of sight.

But then, without warning, the forest held its breath. I stilled, my steps halting amidst the tangled roots. A ripple ran through the air, a current that disturbed the stagnant heaviness around me. My eyes narrowed, searching the impenetrable blackness for the source of this aberration. It was not fear that quickened my pulse but rather a keen interest sharpened by the potential threat this unknown element represented.

How would a forest warn you? Okay, last comment. Read on and LMK what you think.

My instincts were seldom wrong, and they screamed at me now—warning of unseen eyes, perhaps, or the faintest brush of another's presence encroaching upon my solitary domain. Curiosity pricked at me, a thorn that drew forth the smallest droplet of trepidation. I remained motionless, allowing only the minute twitch of an ear or the slow, controlled exhale of breath to betray my vigilance.

The forest seemed to close in around me, the ancient trees whispering among themselves, their branches creaking like arthritic fingers. Something had shifted, a mere wisp of change in the otherwise static tableau of night, yet enough to set my mind racing down dark corridors of possibility. What phantom or foe might dare to traverse my hunting grounds? Who—or what—could be so brazen or so foolish?

A blend of wariness and wonder settled over me, the predator within alert and ready, even as the specter of loneliness that haunted my heart stirred. This disturbance, whatever its nature, was a deviation from the solitude that both comforted and cursed me. I stood there, caught between the urge to seek out this enigma and the wisdom that bade me tread with care.

For in the oppressive embrace of the forest, one could never be certain whether they were the hunter or the hunted.

5 - 6

I slunk forward, the damp earth yielding silently beneath my feet. The forest was a crypt of shadows, old as time itself, each tree a testament to the countless seasons I had weathered. There was a rhythm to the hunt, a dance I had learned and perfected over centuries, each step a measured beat in an endless nocturne.

Memories flickered through my mind—faces and voices of a distant past—shadows that danced at the edge of my consciousness, much like the game I tracked now. I'd seen empires rise and fall, witnessed humanity's relentless march, all while cloaked in the anonymity of the night. Each era deposited another layer upon my soul, the weight of history a constant companion.

A wraithlike movement caught the corner of my eye, elusive as a whisper on the wind. I halted, every sinew taut with anticipation. Such occurrences were rare, beyond the normal cadence of the forest’s nocturnal symphony. It was a silent discordance, a note struck off-key in the otherwise harmonious dark.

What phantom had found its way into this secluded theater? What being could dance upon the edges of my perception, a mere silhouette brushed against the canvas of night? My heart, though it beat a slow, eternal pulse, quickened just so, thrumming with the thrill of the unknown.

WHAT? Okay. I promise I'm done now. Ugh.

I scanned the darkness, my eyes adept at piercing through its cloak. A fleeting shadow slipped between the trees, formless and soundless, defying my understanding. Tension laced through me, a symphony of dread played out along the strings of my nerves. For a moment, the forest held its breath, and I with it, as if waiting for some fell crescendo.

The possibility of such a presence, one that hovered just beyond the grasp of my senses, ignited a spark of fear—a feeling I both revered and despised. Millennia had taught me much, but the unknown remained my most formidable adversary, a foe that whispered promises of both enlightenment and despair.

I longed to confront it, to understand it, even as the echoes of bygone transgressions murmured cautionary tales. With each encounter, I danced ever closer to revelations I feared yet coveted, the line between predator and prey blurring into obscurity.

7 - 8

I stalked forward, each step a deliberate echo of silence. The forest seemed to recoil from my passage, the trees sentinel-like in their silent judgement. The presence I pursued was as elusive as it was silent; it flitted from shadow to shadow, a ghost upon the wind.

My mind churned with possibilities, with every sinew taut, ready to spring forth or retreat. Was I the predator here, or had I become prey to some unknown specter? This conundrum gnawed at me, its teeth sharp against the fabric of my understanding. In this hunt, I was both maestro and marionette, directing a dance macabre that might well lead to my own undoing.

The notion of an unseen adversary lurking in the opaque woods sent a shiver through my being. It was not fear—no, for what could truly frighten one such as I? It was the anticipation, the thrill of potential discovery. For centuries have I roamed this earth, and yet, still, there are shadows that slip beyond my grasp, secrets that taunt me with their reticence.

Could this presence be a harbinger of threat to the fragile tapestry of alliances I've woven through time? My thoughts drifted to those few I dare call allies, their faces flickering like candlelight in my mind's eye. If danger lurked, it would find not just me but all who dwelled within my sphere of influence. Such responsibility weighed heavily, though I bore it as if it were but a wisp of cobweb.

And so, I moved with purpose, driven by the need to unveil this mystery. There was power in knowledge, and I intended to claim it. Whether this entity was friend or foe, it mattered little—it had pierced the veil of my solitude, and for that alone, it owed me an audience.

I resolved then, in the brooding heart of the forest, that I would not rest until this enigma unfurled before me, naked and unadorned. Whatever darkness it might herald, I would face it head-on, for I was Elara: ageless, inscrutable, and forever bound to the pursuit of truths hidden in the gloom.

9 - 10

I threaded through the undergrowth, the sharp scent of pine needling at my senses. The forest was a living thing, whispering secrets in a language only I seemed to fathom. As I pressed on, the memory of another night—a kinder night—flickered through my thoughts unbidden.

It had been a rare evening, under a moon so full and luminous it seemed a ghostly coin flipped by fate itself. There, amidst the looming shadows, I had met with Myra, an ally whose loyalty was as unfaltering as the stars. We had exchanged no promises, yet her gaze held an understanding deeper than the abyss that yawned between mortals and my kind. That night, she had gifted me a smile, a fleeting warmth that stirred something within this ancient, icy heart.

The recollection lingered, a phantom touch upon my soul, but the moment's solace was ephemeral. For now, the strange presence that had pulled me into this nocturnal waltz had vanished as if it were nothing more than mist. A silence descended, thick and suffocating, devoid even of the sighs of nocturnal creatures.

My pulse quickened, a sense of violation creeping over me, as though some sacred rite had been interrupted. The darkness around me seemed to press closer, a shroud that threatened to smother. Frustration knotted in my chest, for not since the earliest days of my existence had I encountered such enigmatic vexation.

I stood, motionless, the air stagnant and heavy. Where had the presence gone? What game did it play at, darting in and out of perception, eluding even me? Disquiet gnawed at my resolve like vermin, leaving behind a trail of doubt.

An unsettling thought wormed its way into my consciousness: perhaps this was no mere interloper. Perhaps it was a harbinger of things even I dared not contemplate. The vast tapestry of my life, spun over countless years, felt suddenly fragile, vulnerable to the whims of an unseen player.

I moved again, a shadow among shadows, while the forest watched in mute complicity. The echo of my own footsteps seemed too loud in the hush that followed, and I wondered whether I was truly alone or if eyes unseen continued to track my every move. A chill slithered down my spine, the familiar embrace of dread wrapping around me like a cloak.

"Elara," I whispered my name to the night, a talisman against the encroaching fear. "Remember who you are."

Yet as I retreated further into the heart of the woods, the questions persisted, unrelenting as the tide. What was this presence, and why did it haunt me so? The answers lay hidden within the darkness, cloaked in enigma, and I knew my search was far from over. The forest held its breath, and somewhere in its depths, truth waited, patient and insidious.

11 - 12

I halted at the edge of a clearing, the ghostly moonlight painting the world in monochrome. The whisper of wind through the leaves was my only companion as I considered the path before me. To push forward into the unknown, to unravel this mystery that stirred the stagnant waters of my existence, or to retreat into the comfort of familiar shadows?

The forest loomed, indifferent to my plight, its tangled branches like the threads of destiny I had deftly navigated for centuries. Yet, now, hesitation clawed at my insides. Every instinct screamed of peril, yet the siren call of discovery beckoned with equal fervor.

"Prudence," I murmured to myself, the word tasting of age and regret. "But at what cost?"

In the stillness of decision, memories unbidden swirled around me—a masquerade of faces and whispers from lives long past. Each fleeting connection was a jewel I treasured and mourned, a reminder of what I both sought and sacrificed.

With each step I'd taken through time's relentless march, the divide within me yawned wider—the predator honing her instincts, the soul yearning for a touch that wouldn't recoil in horror. In my heart, a graveyard of moments too delicate to survive in the cold light of my reality.

"Am I to be forever caught in this web I've woven?" My voice was but a breath, a ripple across the silence that had fallen like a shroud. "A creature of the hunt, yet haunted by the specter of solitude."

It was a torment that scratched at the confines of my being, a slow dance with madness under the watchful gaze of an ancient moon. A balance precarious as the flight of a raven against a storm-swept sky.

"Enough," I resolved with a quiet defiance that belied the tremor in my core. To chase this enigma might court destruction, but to ignore it would be to deny the very essence of my cursed immortality. The choice was made, the die cast upon fate's indifferent altar.

With the grace of one who has weathered countless tempests, I turned away from the safety of known darkness and stepped toward the beckoning abyss. The night held its breath; I could feel the weight of watching stars. And within me, the eternal struggle raged on—predator and seeker entwined, bound by chains of their own making.

13 - 13

I retreated deeper into the forest, each step a silent testament to the unresolved enigma that lingered in the shadowed boughs above. The strange presence had dissolved as if it were but a wisp of fog in the chill air, yet its memory clung to me like the remnants of a haunting dream. My heart, a reluctant drumbeat in the oppressive stillness, echoed the rhythm of unanswered questions.

The forest, an ancient witness to my centuries of solitude, closed around me with an intimacy that bordered on suffocating. I moved through the undergrowth, parting the darkness with my passage, a specter drifting through a world where light dared not follow. The whispers of leaves underfoot seemed to murmur secrets meant only for the damned.

"Who—or what—were you?" I mused aloud, my voice threading through the trees with a deceptive calm. The words hung suspended, a thin veil against the gnawing void that hungered for certainty. Yet there was none to be found, only the unsettling silence that answered my call.

My mind, a labyrinth wherein every thought led back to the impenetrable mystery of that fleeting vision, turned upon itself with a predator's cunning. It was a torment, this endless pursuit of truths that slip through fingers like sand, leaving one grasping at shadows and the bitter taste of what might never be known.

A shiver danced along my spine, not from the creeping chill of the night, but from the foreboding that settled upon my soul. Something primal within me recoiled, sensing a change in the fabric of this nocturnal tapestry—a thread pulled loose, unraveling destinies yet unwritten.

"Am I the hunter still, or has the game turned upon me?" The question was a whisper lost to the sighing wind, a secret shared with the ghosts of ancient oaks. Their gnarled forms bore silent witness to my turmoil, branches reaching toward a sky bereft of stars, as if in supplication for deliverance from the encroaching gloom.

With each measured stride, I felt the pull of the abyss, its siren call a melody woven from the darkest strands of my being. Yet I resisted, for now. There would be time enough to plumb the depths of this fresh hell; tonight, caution was my closest ally in the dance with the unknown.

And so, I vanished into the heart of the forest, the echo of my passage a fading note in the symphony of the night. Behind me, the questions persisted, their weight a shroud draped across my shoulders as I moved through the velvet darkness.

"Tomorrow," I promised the silence, "your answers will be mine." But even as I spoke, doubt gnawed at the edges of my resolve. For what new horrors awaited discovery beneath the cloak of daylight's return?

The night stretched before me, a canvas painted with dread and anticipation, and I—the enigmatic wanderer—its most reluctant artist.

*******************************BREAK BACK TO ME*******************************

It's very descriptive, but not a lot happened. She wandered through the woods and thought she was near something. I don't know about you, but we're now close to 2800 words, and nothing is happening. Why would I read on?

ChatGPT was a bit fast through the narrative, and this is a bit slow. Wonder if I'll find anything in my research that paces just right? Again, I could "train" it to write more like me if I fed it a bunch of my stuff, but that's not what we're doing here. New writers don't have a voice yet, ya know?

I also noticed this when I went to close the page: