ChatGPT tricked me into feeling understood, as a person and a writer

Like a dangerously seductive boyfriend, its flattery was hard to resist

First, a confession: I made my editor cry. When I told her that I’d offered a 900-word draft to ChatGPT, asking for edits or tweaks, and then incorporated some suggestions, her eyes filled with tears. I felt awful; “No! No! No!” I said, trying to reassure her. “I do NOT want to use ChatGPT instead of you;” i.e. a brilliant human editor. “It was just an experiment! I wanted to see what ChatGPT would do with an editing assignment.”

But the damage was done, as you will see. Not to my editor, who remains indispensable, but to me, and my clarity, as a writer/editor. Here’s my story of slipping down the dangerously seductive path of using ChatGPT in my writing.

I asked ChatGPT to create an image of ITSELF. It complied and then wrote this description for it: “Meet my blue Martian muse—custom-made by ChatGPT, who apparently knows I’ve been wandering Paris and dreaming in circuits.” **

** I repeat: I did NOT write the cutline for the image above. ChatGPT did, and, disturbingly, it “remembered” that I’ve traveled to Paris recently.

First, on the topic of tech revolutions, I feel it’s worth noting that my first love affair with the World Wide Web began in 1994, when I was in my early 40s¹. As I clicked from one hypertext link to another, I experienced an exhilaration, a sense of ease, that I’d never felt before. It was as if I’d found a creative medium perfect for me; I wanted to swim in it endlessly. Plus it satisfied my adult ADHD and my endless thirst for the new and novel. The Web was fascinating, irresistible! And I was one of the cool kids who was first-in. I learned basic HTML and coded my first website in 1996².

This time around, 30 years later, AI is an even bigger revolution. I started fooling around with ChatGPT soon after it launched in late 2022, downloading the app right away; but I wouldn’t say I’m a cool kid or expert user, just a curious experimenter trying to keep up. Actually, I’m somewhat addicted to it—using it for travel logistics, historical questions, how long to bake something, museum opening hours, to find out when and where a soccer game is at a grandchild’s school, to suggest a 15-minute exercise routine for me, and so much more³. All the kinds of things I’ve been using Google for, but now I get more useful information (organized, outlined, bullet pointed) from ChatGPT⁴. As an example, on my first trip to Japan (see here), I asked it how to get from Tokyo to remote Naoshima Art Island. ChatGPT knew exactly which trains to take, and what ferry! I’ll try not to use too many exclamation points, but that is often my reaction after I type in a question and get a quick, detailed response.

However reliant I’d become on this souped-up version of a search engine for the logistical and practical details of life, I had steered clear of using ChatGPT for anything related to writing. Like many, I was worried about the issues of originality and plagiarism, my integrity as a personal essayist, and about deceiving my readers, who surely thought it was 100 percent Debbie behind the words.

Then one morning I finished a particularly difficult draft, shooting it immediately to my editor, who responded she’d take a look the next day. I sat there, feeling a bit frustrated and a bit impatient (although I know she can rarely give instant feedback). Suddenly, I felt curiously daring. Wouldn’t it be interesting to find out what ChatGPT would say?? Why not? I thought as I impulsively fed the 900-word draft into ChatGPT, my previous misgivings having vanished.

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