Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck

As you’ve probably guessed, I’ve been struggling with writer’s block. BIG TIME. My brain just don’t work no more.

So to piss off as many anti-AI enthusiasts as possible, I’ve decided to consult with AI to provide me with a jolt of inspiration. When I returned to ChatGPT, I told myself that I would write whatever the fuck the algorithm told me to write. Unfortunately, it came up with the short story prompt above.

Now, that prompt isn’t as creative as you’d might think. The algorithm probably assumed I was a hack writer that finally ran out of ideas (and it’s correct, btw). So it came up with a story about an artist struggling to find inspiration. How convenient.

But I like the story. It’s very Philip K. Dick. And I like Dick. Nay, I LOVE Dick. In fact, the very idea that I’d go to AI to give me an idea sounds like something out of a Philip K. Dick story.

The problem is that I just don’t have the mind of Dick (even though I think about Dick ALL the time). So I don’t know, I may have met my match this time.

But this is what AI told me to write. So this will be the premise of my next story…