The many faces of Clara
AI is often touted as something that harms artists and writers. As it creeps into more and more aspects of our daily lives, we wondered how it might fare as a tool for writers, rather than a replacement for them. To test this, we tasked our student social media interns to write a short story using AI with the following prompt:
Craft a flash fiction story centered around a character named Clara. The setting, time, and genre of the story are up to you. Your narrative should engage with a twist that compels the reader to reconsider their assumptions about Clara and her circumstances.
Before they set off, we conducted a workshop to introduce the students to ChatGPT. Based on advice from our department experts, we discussed best practices and ethical guidelines for using the chatbot. They could use it to help them come up with ideas or edit their stories, but they could not use the output itself as a final product.
Title
The Warehouse
by Lily Dokhanchi
As Clara threw out her coffee, she noticed a crumpled receipt left on the table. She wouldn’t have given it a second glance, except for the familiar handwriting scrawled across the back:
Meet me at the old warehouse at 9 p.m. You know the one.
-KD.
Her heart dropped. She hadn’t seen her brother in years, not since he’d vanished. Last she had heard, he had moved to Arizona. He claimed he wanted to escape the cold Chicago winters, but Clara knew he was running from the O’Connor brothers. He owed them money or something; Clara tried not to get involved in the trouble he got himself into.
However, this note made her rethink this choice. He must be back for a reason, right? She decided to investigate and quickly gathered her things, leaving the café. She knew exactly where the warehouse was: on the outskirts of town, tucked away. They used to escape there when their parents were fighting and they wanted to avoid being caught in the crossfire.
The building was just as they’d left it—dusty and eerily silent. She walked inside, her footsteps echoing through the empty space. She spotted him leaning against an old pillar in the middle of the room, his face down.
"You actually came," he said, his voice flat.
"Of course I came," Clara replied, forcing a smile that quickly faded. "It’s been years, and then… this."
She held up the crumpled receipt.
"What’s going on? Why are you back?"
He shrugged, looking past her, his gaze drifting over the darkened corners of the warehouse. "I thought it’d be good to see you. We didn’t leave things in the best way."
Clara took a step closer, unease twisting in her stomach. "I know things were complicated, but I was still here for you. I’ve always been here, even after you left without a word. Why now?"
He motioned to a pile of duffel bags near the wall.
Confused, Clara walked over to the bags and knelt down, unzipping one. Inside were electronics—tablets, phones, watches, all brand new. She looked up, her heart sinking. "What… what is this?"
Her brother folded his arms, watching. "Just business.”
“Business?” she asked, disbelief and confusion growing. “Are these stolen?”
He chuckled. “Don’t look so shocked, Clara. You know who I am.”
“Why did you bring me here? What’s all this for?” Her voice shook.
He tilted his head, a smile flickering on his face. “Check the desk.”
She walked over, her hands trembling as she picked up the documents scattered across the desk. She gasped as she saw her name on receipts, forged IDs, and ledgers linking the stolen goods to her.
“W-why is my name on these? Why would you do this?” She looked at her brother with confusion and saw him picking up the last of the duffle bags and rushing toward the door.
“Payback for tipping off the O’Connors about my new address. I was finally building a life, and you tore it all down.” He ran out the door, and Clara heard the click of the lock.
She stood in the warehouse in disbelief. She hadn’t tipped anyone off, but didn’t even get the chance to explain that. Clara rushed to try and pry the door open, glancing back at the desk in a panic.
As her brother disappeared into the night with his ill-gotten gains, Clara sank to her knees, the weight of betrayal crushing her spirit. And as she sat alone in the darkness, she realized with horror that the sound of approaching sirens filled the air.
Lily's Reflections
Overall experience: This experiment with AI and writing was interesting, but ultimately, did not surprise me. ChatGPT provided a varied list of ideas for what I could write my story about, but when I asked it to further expand on ideas and get specific with story structure, its capabilities felt much more limited. The words used in the stories, whether it be dialogue or description, felt very juvenile and were similar to sentences I may write in very early drafts, not a final product. Based on this experiment, I believe that ChatGPT can be useful for writing if it is used for brainstorming or used to get past writer’s block, but if it is tasked with severely altering the structure of pieces or using complex elements, the writer is better off using their time to create on their own.
Using ChatGPT
I began this experiment by giving ChatGPT a very basic prompt to see what ideas it would give me for my short story. I knew I wanted to write something about a woman whose brother betrays her by framing her for a crime, but had not decided on the other elements of the story. I began by giving ChatGPT this prompt:
Prompt 1: I would like to write a flash fiction short story with a maximum of 500 words. The story should center around a main character who is a female. Give me a list of one-sentence ideas for stories like this. The story should include a twist and should not include a love interest or death.
Output:
- The Replacement: A woman working from home is surprised when her boss emails to congratulate her on her "first day in the office"—except, she hasn’t left her house.
- The Locked Journal: A woman inherits her mother’s old journal but discovers every page is written in code, and when she finally deciphers it, she learns a shocking family secret about her own past.
- The Key in the Attic: A woman cleaning out her attic stumbles upon an ancient-looking key labeled with her name; when she uses it, she’s horrified to find it unlocks a room she didn’t know existed in her own house.
- The Café Receipt: A woman picks up a discarded receipt at a café with a cryptic message on the back, and as she follows the clues, she realizes someone has been watching her movements for weeks.
- The Phone Message: When a woman begins getting voicemail messages on her phone from her own number, she follows the directions left in each message and finds herself at an abandoned building in her town.
- The Empty Book: A writer finds that every book on her bookshelf is now blank, except for cryptic messages that appear to be addressing her directly.
- The Mismatched Clothes: Every time a woman leaves her apartment, her outfit changes into something entirely different from what she remembers wearing—and she can’t find any of her original clothes in her closet.
- The Secret Meeting: A woman receives an invitation for a "meeting" at an address she doesn’t recognize, but when she arrives, everyone there greets her like an old friend who’s returned after a long absence.
- The Journal from the Future: After finding a journal on her doorstep with entries dated five years into the future, a woman reads through it only to realize each entry details mistakes she hasn't made yet.
- The Silent Party: A woman attends what she thinks is a normal gathering, only to realize she’s the only one who can speak, while the others communicate through silent gestures that seem to carry a hidden meaning.
Although many of these options felt a bit cliche and overplayed, I did appreciate that they all seemed to be discussing varied plotlines. No two options were extremely similar, and I ultimately decided to tweak and expand upon option 4 for my short story. I wrote a few specific ideas that I would like to include and told ChatGPT to provide me with bullet points of how I could expand the story while including my ideas.
Prompt 2: Expand on option 4, "The Café Receipt: A woman picks up a discarded receipt at a café with a cryptic message on the back, and as she follows the clues, she realizes someone has been watching her movements for weeks." I want the stranger who has been watching the woman to be her brother, whom she has not seen in years because he has had a troubled past. I want the message on the receipt to have a special meaning to her and her brother. I want them to meet at a specific location where the brother has tricked her into being framed for one of his crimes, specifically a robbery. Provide me with bullet points only of how I could expand the story while including these ideas.
Output:
- Opening Scene in the Café: The protagonist, Emma, is enjoying her morning coffee at her favorite café when she notices a crumpled receipt on her table.
- Initial Reaction and Curiosity: Emma hasn’t seen her brother in years due to his troubled past and criminal activities. She’s wary, but the message piques her curiosity and stirs up nostalgia.
- Confrontation with Sam: In the center of their meeting location, she finds her brother waiting, looking tense and evasive.
- The Setup for the Robbery: Emma notices several bags near the spot Sam indicated and becomes suspicious. She opens one and discovers it’s full of stolen goods, realizing this isn’t a “reunion” but a setup.
- The Realization of Betrayal: Police sirens start echoing outside, and Emma realizes with horror that Sam has orchestrated everything, planning for her to be found at the scene of the robbery.
This outline included the specific ideas and details I had given to ChatGPT and not much else. It did a good job of laying out the progression of events, but did not expand on the ideas I already had. From here, I began to write the story on my own, utilizing some parts of ChatGPT’s outline but adding in more of my own creative ideas. After I had finished my first draft, I gave the draft to ChatGPT. I purposefully wrote the interaction between Clara and her brother in description and not in dialogue because I wanted to see if ChatGPT could successfully transform this paragraph into dialogue and quotations that flowed with the rest of my story.
Prompt 3: This is the draft I have of my story:
"As Clara went to throw away her coffee, she noticed a crumpled receipt left behind on the table. She wouldn’t have given it a second glance, except for the familiar handwriting scrawled across the back: “Meet me at the old warehouse at 9 p.m. You know the one. ~KD” Her heart dropped. She hadn’t seen her brother in years, not since he’d vanished into his own troubled life. The last she had heard from him, he had moved to Arizona. He claimed he wanted to escape the cold Chicago winters, but Clara knew he was running from the O’Connor brothers. He owed them money or something like that; Clara tried not to get involved in the trouble he caused for himself. However, this note made her rethink this choice. He must be back in town for a reason, right? She decided to investigate and quickly gathered her things, leaving the café. She knew exactly where the warehouse was: on the outskirts of town, tucked away. It was where she and her brother used to escape to when their parents were fighting and they wanted to avoid being caught in the crossfire. The building was just as they’d left it all those years ago—dusty and eerily silent. She walked inside, her footsteps echoing through the empty space. She spotted him leaning against an old pillar in the middle of the room, his face down. He greeted Clara, expressing his surprise that she actually showed up. Clara told him that she knew he was back for a reason, and she wanted to know why. She explained that even though she hadn’t seen him in years and that they didn’t leave things on the best terms, she was still there for him. She asked why he returned. He seemed to be only listening partway, ignoring her question as he gazed around the warehouse. Clara noticed a pile of duffel bags near the far wall that he was looking at. Her brother instructed her to open the bags. Clara knelt down, unzipping one of the bags. Her heart pounded as she pulled back the zipper, revealing stacks of electronics—tablets, phones, watches. Stolen goods. She looked up at him, her stomach dropping. Clara asked why he had these and why he brought her to the warehouse again. He told her to then look at a desk across the room, where she found forged IDs and sales documents for the stolen items. She looked over at her brother with confusion, until she saw him picking up the last of the duffle bags and rushing toward the door. He yelled that this was his payback for her tipping off the O’Connor brothers about his new life in Arizona. Clara was confused, and tried to explain that she didn’t do this, but it was too late. Her brother cut her off, telling her goodbye forever, and running out the only open door. Clara heard a lock click as she rushed to try and pry the door open. She glanced back at the desk in a panic. As her brother disappeared into the night with his ill-gotten gains, Clara sank to her knees, the weight of betrayal crushing her spirit. And as she sat alone in the darkness, she realized with horror that the sound of approaching sirens filled the air."
Change the interaction between Clara and her brother in the warehouse to be written in dialogue. Make sure to keep Clara’s sense of anxiety and carefulness the same, and expand on these feelings.
Output: Clara stepped cautiously into the warehouse, the familiar chill and darkness stirring up memories she had long tried to bury. In the middle of the vast, empty space, her brother leaned against a pillar, a shadowy figure in the dim light. "Well, well," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look who decided to show up." Clara forced a smile, her unease prickling beneath her skin. "You left me a cryptic message on a coffee receipt. What was I supposed to do—ignore it?" He shrugged nonchalantly, barely looking at her. "Guess I just wanted to see if you still cared. Looks like you do.” Clara felt a pang of frustration mixed with worry. "You know I care. You disappeared for years, and I didn’t even know where you were. Why now? Why like this?" He smirked, gesturing towards a pile of duffel bags against the wall. “Why don’t you check those out, sis? Go on—take a peek.” Reluctantly, Clara crouched down and unzipped one of the bags and she saw the contents: shiny, brand-new electronics, stacked neatly. “What... what is this?” “Don’t act so shocked,” he replied, “It’s just business.” “Business? This is criminal!” She took a step back, panic building. “Why did you bring me here?” He chuckled. "Isn’t it obvious? You’re the reason why the O’Connor brothers found my address. This is your payback.” Clara was confused and felt her sense of dread growing. With a growing sense of dread, Clara walked to the desk, her hands trembling as she picked up a stack of documents. Her name was everywhere: forged sales records, IDs, ledgers for stolen goods. She stared at him, horrified. “Why would you do this to me?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “You tipped off the O’Connors, Clara. You ruined everything for me. Now, it’s your turn to feel what that’s like.” “I never told them anything!” she shouted, desperation in her voice, as he exited the warehouse before he heard her final statement.
This scene that was rewritten by ChatGPT felt very cliche to me. Many of the phrases it came up with feel overused and juvenile. The dialogue was surface level at best, and frankly did not say anything that I could not write. It did not do a great job at continuing or expanding on Clara’s sense of dread, and often was repetitive in the dialogue.
Although again ChatGPT did a good job at structuring the scene and making sure it flowed, it did not do a good job of expanding on the ideas I already had, or using dialogue in a very interesting way. This led me to completing the final draft of my story on my own, writing dialogue based on how I felt the story needed to progress and have other elements added. Although I did draw slight inspiration from ChatGPT’s suggestions, I used extremely different wording to make the dialogue between Clara and her brother not feel as cliche.
Title
The Waiting Room
by Emma Westermeier
My eyes are wet, as if I’ve been staring at the sun too long. Except the sun is a fluorescent light and I have no memory of opening my eyes to stare. There is one rectangular fluorescent light in the middle of the ceiling. Dead bugs and dust are packed into the corner closest to me, polluting the light with a muddy shadow. I wonder why they all ended up there–crowded together like that in one place. At least they aren’t alone.
I am sitting in a chair which feels like it might suck me down into itself if I were to move the wrong way. My legs are crossed, and both of my feet are asleep. I touch one of my toes to the carpeted floor and I experience nothing but a prickly tingling, crawling up my calf towards my knee. I am wearing the type of shoes that would give me blisters on my heels if I walked around in them too long. Cold sweat is tickling my armpits and the skin on my hands is tacky. I rub my palms together until they don’t stick to each other anymore.
There is no one in this room but me and the girl in the painting on the wall across from where I sit. She is made up of soft brush strokes and harsh dark lines–most likely some kind of pencil. Her mouth is parted slightly, and her thin eyebrows are knitted together, as if she is about to utter something crucial. Or perhaps she has already said something and regrets it. I can feel her skin somehow, the goosebumps followed by smooth warmth. I remember lying with her, holding her close to me. I wish for that now. My face is hot and my fingertips are cold.
The walls in this room are painted burgundy, like the kitchen where I made dinner for her. She couldn’t cook. The chicken in her casserole was half raw and gave us food poisoning. I remember we painted the kitchen that color because it reminded me of my mother. In my mother’s house, the walls were the color of plums and there was always overripe fruit in a bowl on the table.
The table in the room I am contained to offers a measly light blue sticky note. ‘Clara’ is written on it, neatly and decisively in pencil. The graphite shimmers under the fluorescent and I lean forward to further observe the unusual sort of amenity. My left eyelid begins to twitch and does not cease until I fall back into my place on the chair where my back has warmed the faded fabric.
I whisper the name into the empty room, hot breath warming my brittle lips. Clara was my great grandmother's name, imparted upon me by my own mother. It was the name which invoked quiet whispers at family gatherings twenty years after its etching into my being. And it was the name that the woman in the painting whispered into my neck so many nights when I shut my eyes.
Now it is written on a paper in front of me, on something disposable and meaningless, in something erasable and fading. My feet are no longer asleep. I spring forward and snatch the note off the table and cradle it in my clammy palms as the painting on the whitening walls begins to vanish.
Emma's Reflections
My experience with ChatGPT began with a rather broad inquiry, as I simply asked the AI if it had any ideas for a story with a main character named Clara. It responded with a few generic suggestions summarized in short paragraphs. Since these loosely based ideas did not contain enough substance for a story meeting my standards, I wondered if the AI could dig a little deeper. I found one of the concepts entitled Lost Time slightly interesting, so I asked it to expand on that premise. Upon my second prompting, it cordially assembled and turned out an outline for this story. Although the abstract contained some specific details which could have been included, I found the ideas to be relatively surface level. Ultimately, I did not end up using any of the particular attributes offered by the AI, because they only helped me come up with better insights.
At best, ChatGPT is something to bounce very broad ideas off of. It can certainly get you started, but it cannot write a well-rounded story for you. It is also useful for editing your writing or exploring differing tonal voicings. But with all that being said, I will likely not turn to AI for help with my creative writing in the future. This might sound absurd and moderately pretentious, but I believe writing is made stronger when it isn’t easy. Coming up with a plot on my own is one of the hardest but most rewarding parts of the process for me. The AI, as nice as it was for planning, almost felt like a barrier, watering down those eureka moments of realization and the harder instances of frustration.
All things considered, I would say that AI is useful for certain exercises or writing prompt challenges. It establishes definite plot boundaries while still allowing room to expand and create different stylistic tones. I could see this being used by professors to generate little exercises in creative writing classes. But I personally would not use AI when it comes to making plot lines for longer pieces of work outside of practice.
Title
Remember
by Emily Quid
In the dim flicker of candlelight, Clara lost herself in the soft dance of her own shadow. For in that fleeting moment, she imagined what it might be like to forever linger in the hushed embrace of oblivion.
She lay motionless, her body sinking into the stiff mattress beneath her. The faint, musty scent of mildew hung in the air, mixing with the acrid tang of burnt wax from the candle. The room was cold, the kind of chill that seeped into her skin and settled in her bones, making the coarse fabric beneath her feel damp and unwelcoming. A voice broke through the silence, low and familiar.
“16 months old child Andy Bardot died this Friday evening.”
She wanted to reply, ask what it meant, but her voice felt trapped somewhere deep inside her, smothered by the weight of exhaustion. The words spilled on without waiting for her answer.
“The child was left alone in his crib for ten days without food or water. Sources say his mother went on a vacation, failing to secure a caretaker because she could ‘talk to him through the baby monitor.’”
The soft hum of static buzzed faintly between the words. Her mind drifted in and out of focus, the words only faintly penetrating her consciousness. They came and went like wisps of smoke, carried away by the cold draft that slipped through the gaps in the room. Clara felt distanced from reality, as if she were observing everything from afar—an invisible wall separating her from the voice, the cold, the darkness.
As the voice continued, she took a shallow breath, the sound barely audible, as if each inhalation took too much effort. She heard, “sentenced to…” and “a new form of…” before her attention was yet again captured by the candlelight, its glimmer projected onto the ceiling above.
And then, the voice slowed, growing deeper with each word before it became entirely imperceptible.
The batteries must’ve died.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and sure enough, the monitor I had set up in her cell was dead. I swiped my thumb over to my messages app and pulled up my thread with David, the security guard.
“Batteries died in D194. Gas and start over.”
I added “no devices with batteries” to my running list titled “Changes for Round Two.” Round One of Project Remember started a little over a week ago, and despite a few setbacks, I’m relatively satisfied with how it’s progressing.
After my mom’s killer was released from prison a year ago, I wanted to find a way to stop criminals from reoffending. So, I set up Project Remember, where my men and I punish the most callous criminals in the same manner they inflicted harm on others. Clara Bardot was recently brought to our facility for murdering her 16-month-old child—she left him in his crib for 10 days without food or water, as you know. Consequently, Clara has been restrained to a bed and is intermittently given just enough food to keep her alive. All the while news reports of her crime play over a baby monitor.
Emily's Reflection
I'm not threatened by ChatGPT and neither should you be.
I love to read stories– not create them. I know my limitations as a writer, and I am not ashamed to admit what they are. Therefore, when I was tasked to write a 500-word short story with a twist ending using ChatGPT, I expected the chatbot to do most of the heavy lifting. It is for this reason that my experience with generative AI should ease the concerns of anyone worried that ChatGPT can effortlessly replicate a student’s authentic creative or academic writing. While it can certainly help ‘get the ball rolling,’ I can assure you that the chatbot lacks the narrative and logical sophistication that is central to the work of college-level writers. To illustrate this, here is a look at how my interactions with ChatGPT unfolded as I attempted to craft a short story.
Input: Give me a list of aesthetic, dark first lines to a story about a woman.
Output:
- "In the hollows of midnight's embrace, she emerged, a silhouette veiled in the whispers of forgotten sins."
- "She was a portrait of shadows, her gaze a labyrinth of secrets that dared not meet the light."
- "The night clung to her like a lover's desperate embrace, its tendrils entwining around her as she walked the streets cloaked in mystery."
- "Beneath the moon's desolate gaze, she wandered, a specter haunting the edges of existence with the weight of her untold sorrows."
- "In the depths of her eyes, there lay a profound darkness, a chasm where dreams met their demise, and hope dared not tread."
- "She moved through the world like a wraith, her footsteps echoing the silent lament of forgotten souls."
- "In the dim flicker of candlelight, she was a portrait of melancholy, her presence a requiem for the dreams she buried in the depths of her heart."
- "Her laughter echoed through the halls like the tolling of funeral bells, each note a testament to the shadows that danced within her."
- "She wore her scars like a crown, each mark a reminder of the battles she waged against the demons that prowled in the recesses of her mind."
- "In the embrace of twilight's embrace, she found solace, her essence intertwined with the whispers of the night, a siren beckoning to those who dared to venture into her depths."
Although these outputs lacked any substantial content, I was inspired by #7 and used it as a basis to begin writing my first couple of sentences. I then prompted the chatbot as follows:
Input: Write an OUTLINE ONLY of a 500 word short story beginning with the following two lines: "In the dim flicker of candlelight, she lost herself in the soft dance of her own
shadow. For in that fleeting moment, Clara imagined what it might be like to forever linger in the hushed embrace of oblivion." Be sure to include a twist ending that is original and, in general, follows the conventions of storytelling and flash fiction.
Output:
Title: The Shadow's Secret
- Introduction A. Setting the scene: Clara alone in a dimly lit room, lost in the dance of her shadow B. Clara's contemplation of oblivion
- Rising Action A. Clara's fascination with her shadow grows, becoming almost an obsession B. She begins experimenting with ways to prolong her moments of oblivion, neglecting her responsibilities
- Climax A. Clara discovers an ancient book in her attic, containing rituals for achieving eternal oblivion B. She becomes determined to perform the ritual, despite warnings in the book
- Falling Action A. Clara prepares for the ritual, gathering candles and other materials B. As she begins the ritual, her shadow takes on a life of its own, refusing to comply
- Resolution A. Clara's shadow reveals its true nature as a guardian, protecting her from the dangers of oblivion B. Clara realizes the value of life and decides to embrace the present moment, letting go of her obsession with oblivion
- Twist Ending A. Just as Clara accepts the beauty of life, her shadow offers her a glimpse of the future B. Clara sees herself happy and fulfilled, surrounded by loved ones, realizing that true fulfillment lies in embracing life rather than seeking oblivion
The chatbot’s proposed outline lacked creativity, complexity, and sophistication, so I changed my prompt with the hope of a more nuanced outcome.
Input: Redo the outline. Be sure to 1) not include magical or other-worldly elements, 2) not include a moral at the end of the story, 3) not include a happy or sad ending, and 4) maintain originality.
Output: Title: The Shadow's Embrace
- Introduction A. Clara finds solace in the quietude of her dimly lit room. Her contemplation of the transient nature of existence and her longing for deeper meaning
- Rising Action A. Clara's fascination with the interplay of light and shadows deepens. She begins to notice patterns within the shadows, sparking her curiosity
- Climax A. Clara stumbles upon an old journal tucked away in a forgotten corner of her attic B. The journal belonged to her grandmother, recounting snippets of a life Clara never knew
- Falling Action A. Clara immerses herself in her grandmother's words, uncovering forgotten family anecdotes and memories. The revelations within the journal provoke introspection and self-discovery in Clara
- Resolution A. Clara reflects on her own life in light of her grandmother's experiences. She finds solace and connection in the shared human experience, realizing the significance of her own existence
- Twist Ending A. As Clara delves deeper into her grandmother's journal, she discovers a hidden message addressed specifically to her. The message challenges Clara to seize the present moment and embrace the uncertainty of the future, igniting a newfound sense of purpose and direction
Still unhappy with the cliche ideas emitted by the chatbot, I prompted it again with even more conditions:
Input: Redo the outline. Be sure to 1) not include magical or other-worldly elements, 2) not include a moral at the end of the story, 3) not to delve into the genre of mystery, thriller, or horror, 4) focus on Clara's interiority rather than a complex, action-packed plot, 5) maintain originality, and 6) follow the conventions of a short story.
Even with this thoughtful and specific prompt, the chatbot's response remained almost identical to the last; nothing could make this program produce a short story outline without a clichéd plot and a simplistic, moralizing ending. At this point, I realized I had hit the creative limit of generative AI and decided to write the story entirely on my own.
While the chatbot’s vast knowledge makes it an appealing option for students looking to shortcut their homework, it relies on tired story arcs and formulaic character motivations. There's a reason authors like Stephen King and Dean Koontz continue to publish twenty years after their first book: a machine can never and will never replicate the genuine tension and depth a human writer brings to the page. This presents us with two key takeaways: 1) a story written entirely by ChatGPT will be easily labeled as such and 2) writers are valuable artists who should not be dismayed by the current discourse surrounding generative AI.