T.M. Shannon

Hi everyone,

Look at that, a week and two days since last post, and I got a like on that! Even got a nice comment on Bluesky – parts made them laugh, and they agreed with cliche writing advice taken too far. Not bad, huh?

But I’ve been agonising on what to blog, plus steamrolling over a potential weekly plan featuring gaming time, but I’ve made good progress on Three Ways this week.

Also reckon I picked up COVID, because I’m not too coughy or snuffly but I feel bleurgh, and the ear it aches a little here and there. “Yay me,” he sarcasmed.

So, I thought I’d share on the rewrite, which I’ve been ambivalent and vapescrolling about all morning, and see of any other topic will take my fancy. Hope you enjoy!

It’s Slowly Happening

I was fired up for it when I started the rewrite.

I’d had the manuscript assessment, chewed the cud on writer’s drafts, reader’s drafts, taking too long and whatnot, I sat down with fresh eyes/mind ready to go, and got that first chapter/scene fixed in a matter of hours

But then, things went glacial with too many ducks into the room to vapescroll and ruminate. Eventually thought it was the depression, considered it might be the dopamine, and hit the psych up to finally get prescribed Ritalin.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a godsend. An early moment of clarity had me ask, “Is this what normal’s like?” It wasn’t a heady or manic sensation, I wasn’t mind-blown, but the light was on, though has dimmed a little as I’ve settled in, and my psych said, “Good luck with the writing.”

“Hang on, let me see what the glacial progress says… Sorry, glacial progress says no.”

And it was several days at a time to get through a chapter because I was still sinking into my dopamine traps and otherwise feeling meh.

Didn’t do much about addictive behaviours either, when I had hopes. What it did do about that was, there’s no more shame in diverting my triggers to the Higher Power, overarchingly to me the guy upstairs.

No more crippling depression behind it. No, “I’ll never get sober.” And while the, “I’m sick and tired with the lurgy,” slip is sending me back to the confessional tomorrow, and from the last slip, I’m keeping in touch with God, prayer, and program.

And while I can definitely do more on the outreach calls (ADHD says no), I asked a fellow addict to be sponsor today, ready to start after they’re back from a holiday, but we’ll outreach for the next two weeks.

But as for the glacial progress after all the changes? Ladies and gentlemen, enbies and gentlethems, I have WIP fatigue.

Once More unto the Breach, Dear Friends

Not content to go through blockage, Noob Writing Skillz Syndrome, and crying at my writing – worth it, btw, that scene is powerful – I’ve joined the those who’ve revised/edited their MS too many times to gather any energy to fix it, and it’s only the 5th draft.

But T. M., you’ll burn out! Think of your sanity!

Not when I write a limited time every week – see my last post above raging against the “Write every day” machine – and not when I’m a diagnosed headcase.

It’s okay. Work, travel, lethargy, apathy, vapescrolling, Bookfox vids, Cyberpunk 2077 aside, I’ve plodded along and put words in the .docx, this week rewarded by a spurt that produced three chapters.

Am I worried about them? One is an interlude chapter – breath of fresh air or goes nowhere, does nothing, I’ll see what the editor says. One is back to the coalface – it’s EOFY plus takeover time, and my characters have day jobs where they get S. H. I. T. done.

And I’m alright with the latest: its sexy, hot, and emotive, but could be a weak resolution though it’s a marked change from a prior encounter, and the actions say it all. Could it be better? I’ll check with the editor. Could it be much worse? You should’ve seen my original ending…

All in all, it was good to push off the fatigue and get a flow going, especially as I have a week and a half to meet my queer writing group promise. Inshallah, I’ll be there by Friday. But I think I’ll throw CP2077 on tonight, kill some people and braincells with Keanu Reeves in my head.

Hopefully it’s not too long a journey to wrap up the first half of the book. But the biggest battle lies ahead as I cut 40 chapters down to size. It’ll be a mission, but I’m equipped with survival skills and have been through much worse.

Machina Non Est Deus

Oh no, I ran out of topic, whatever shall I do? I could Disney Princess and sing a song, I could go on a torpedo ride to the Octonauts theme, or be boring and find something else to blog about.

As luck would have it, I found this from Business Insider floating about the #WritingCommunity feed on Bluesky – I was accepted into a well-regarded graduate program. I turned down the offer because AI is destroying my desired industry.

Would it be wrong for me to want to send this article’s author a white feather? Still, head’s up, this is a long section.

You can’t deny the astronomical rise of AI. Recently, people used AI to do Celebrity Mortal Kombat and have Sinatra sing Master of Puppets (great vid, btw). Now we’re going hell-bent on AI-generated stories, not just, “Rewrite this as Hemmingway,” or, “Generate this character.”

You can’t deny its risk of polluting writing, whether it’s sloppy fanfic, genre fiction, or blasting through an MFA to become a PhD in high literature. But you can argue that about self-published works, and yeah, my first release, while good, is sloppy writing I need to redo.

But throwing away my long-held dream to be writer (and a DJ at one stage), not just because I might get scraped, but because I perceive AI as capable of destroying the entire writing industry, lowball Twilight fanfic smut and über-explorative literature combined?

Much less throwing away an opportunity few could dream of, let alone the many who put heart and soul into their application and got yeeted from Crom’s domain?

I’ve lost opportunities and had others stolen from me. I’ve survived abuses that lead to suicide. I have parents I don’t talk to – one can call me, the other I’ve had to cut out again because I value my peace and sanity. I’ve had a psychotic episode and a manic episode. Still, I fight.

To quote Gandalf, “I did not pass through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm.” Or in this case, entertain the notion of giving up a dream I’ve wanted for three decades just because a computer can spew out some words.

I’m reminded of the DJs on The Simpsons about to get replaced by a computer. One likes the idea, but he’s rebuked – “Don’t praise the machine.” And Darth Vader to Admiral Motti (for the AI tech chuds) – “Don’t be too proud of the technological terror you’ve constructed.”

What to make of the author’s take? There’s AI apathy, there’s applying Godhood to a human construction then fearing to offend that God, and there’s playing martyr when nobody asked and you’ve sacrificed a dream – but congrats, you’re in Business Insider, lucky you!

But they didn’t imagine what they could’ve produced with their MFA, the PhD they could’ve gone onto, the ideas/themes they could’ve explored, all in spite of AI as a Mk.1 Human Being – something that evolved in harder times against greater adversity than this.

Me? I’m gonna get scraped. I’m gonna get pirated. I’m gonna get derided. MFA’s will snub my works. I might not even get rich or lauded. But I’m gonna write the stories I want to tell, explore the themes I want to explore, and succeed at it – even if it’s just one reader, one review.

Anything more than that will be another layer of icing on my cake, and it’s gonna be a long while before AI can ever taste that deliciousness.

Damn, That Hit Hard

Having faced horrendousness, being in recovery, I can’t do a fatalistic take. And where the optimist says the glass is half full, the pessimist says it’s half empty, I’m an Aussie and thus halfway to my next drink.

Anyway, I better go get some sleep, need to start on the next chapter tomorrow. Thank you for popping by and having a read, and if you liked it, hit that star and leave a comment, I’d certainly appreciate it.

Until next time,
T. M.