All the Marbles

If you've noticed that my writing's been getting better, this is, per my trademark contrarianism, actually a sign that my mind is going.

I'm getting older and no one in my family ever enjoyed noteworthy marble retention. So I've been compensating in two ways:

1. I'm trying harder than ever. Readers often assume that I dash this stuff off, which is both extremely flattering and completely maddening (I work like the house is on fire). But now I'm squeezing every last drop of juice from the grapes with extra purpose.

2. I've found assistance. I'm using ChatGPT to coax me through an extra few dozen drafts. I've found that the problem with mental fog is not inefficiency. Writing, after all, is performed out of time, so I can go as slowly as I'd like and you'll never know! The problem is that middling drafts strike me as finished. So the chatbot kicks me into gear by rooting out sloppy incoherence like a truffle dog.

I'm not being supplanted. The chatbot doesn't actually write anything for me...with one notable recent exception. That fantastic closing line on my last posting ("We're drowning in certainty and starved for magic") was 100% ChatGPT, whom I cursed with ample venom for having coughed up a line too great to ignore!