This week, I tried something different. There was a free trial I’ve been meaning to test out for a while. It’s called BetterWriter.ai and it’s supposed to let you write super high quality material in record time.
I decided I’d try and write a short story using this tool. At first, I wanted to have the AI write most of it, if not all of it. But it was pretty crappy and stupid to be honest and I had to bring it back on the path A LOT. I have no idea what’s the percentage of what came from me and what came from the actual AI, because I often took what it gave me and edited it on the fly.
All in all, I would not recommend it. I’d most likely have come up with a better result by myself and in a lot less time too. The website was finicky and I lost a lot of time deleting stuff that made no sense at all.
So is there a future for AI tools that help (or replace) writers? Definitely, it’s just not there yet in my opinion. Oh, apparently, AI are also painters now:
For the short, I inspired myself from a recent Radiolab episode on the Viet Nam war, if you’re wondering where you’ve heard that story.
Was the result any good? I personally think it’s garbage, but I’ll let you judge by yourself:
They Roamed the Land
by A.I. Veilleux
What am I doing here? Griselda thought.
She had left her home to help the country fight the recent war against the Etherites. Yet, she was still trapped in her lab, still using her grandfather's paraphernalia: the golden plate and the vials and tubes. She also still had the ring of protection, but she was not sure if it’d ever help her out here.
Her grandfather had never managed to come up with an invention to win this war before his death. Griselda taught herself magic without her famous grandfather hearing of it—he was never keen on girls learning the ancient arts. And so, Griselda had to put her hands on old books, but in the end, they were too dense for her, and so she decided to create new spells, her own magic.
Becoming an underdog champion of the land took time, but now, the brass turned to her whenever things became dire.
They needed her power now.
The invasion they thought would end successfully after a few months was now going on its third year, and the casualties were mounting on each side. So they asked her to use her magic to suck out of the enemy all their will to fight.
She had no idea where to even start.
So she decided to look into the nature of magic itself. She had never studied it before, but now that she thought about it, there was no reason to. Besides, there was no time now.
In Griselda’s lab, she tried to animate sheets of paper so they could fly on their own. It was a difficult task, and she had to figure out how to make the paper able to move independently from the magic inside of the spell. She cut the sheets into shapes, then used a needle and thread to tie a thin string to each one. After a lot of trial and error, she found a balance of how much string was needed to hold the paper together and how much she could lift it.
But her experiment failed when the paper sheets began to fly around the room uncontrollably, hitting her in the face and other places on her
body. The paper was stubborn, not having any intention of staying put or doing as it was commanded. It was as if the paper knew it was an ill-fated experiment, and it was trying to make its escape.
A few days later, Griselda tried again with a different piece of paper, but this time she tried to use a different kind of glue. This time the paper was more cooperative. It stayed in place, and after the right tone and the right incantation, she was finally able to steer them toward where they ought to go.
Now came the time to figure out what to put on the leaflets. Not much to choose from. Griselda had an idea. She knew what she craved for. After spending so much time in this faraway land in which the humidity was so high she had to change her shirt at every turn of the day, she wanted above all to go home. She'd had the 'chance' to interview some of the prisoners, and what struck her was that they were all so young and so far from their villages. Most were farmers and they'd been pulled forcefully into this awful war. Griselda didn't doubt they'd jump at the idea of going back home to their loved ones.
She started writing:
"Use this leaflet as a free pass to see your loved ones again." She paused. She couldn't really promise them to take them home again, because the enemy commanders would simply execute them for desertion or bring them back to the front. She tried a different angle: "Anyone who comes to see us and presents this FREE PASS will be taken care of, and we will arrange to have them reunited with their loved ones, and sent back to their homes once the war is over."
There. She had done what she could.
She put the leaflets into a crate that was brought to the military leaders.
The next morning, the leaflets took to the skies and in a loud and chaotic sound of wrinkling paper, disappeared over the rainforest.
That night, in a small hut in the middle of the jungle, there was a young man who had been posted as a scout for the enemy. When he saw the leaflets he knew immediately what they were. He was a good scout, and did not want to betray his comrades.
He took the leaflets back to his commander, who was a man of great experience and wisdom.
And so Griselda's experiment ended in a complete failure. The young men had come all this way to chase away the invading army. Their hatred ran too deep for them to be fooled by such obvious propaganda.
So she went back to her lab. And one late evening, she was sitting around a fire with other soldiers and her assistant, Lee.
"I heard some creepy story this morning," Lee said. "Those freaks have this crazy belief that if they die and are not buried in their home village or town, they become ghosts and wander aimlessly for all eternity."
Griselda jumped from her seat and went right back into her lab.
Her next experiment would be the right one, she knew. She started a simple summoning, and immediately, the wailing of a young soldier filled the air.
"Noooo, please let me go, let me go. I'm too young to die. I will not leave this place. I will haunt you, I will--"
Griselda's eyes widened in shock. This was the answer.
Two days later, she was crawling in the predawn grass, her robes wet from the night's previous rainfall. With her escort, she had crossed into enemy territory and right ahead, in the heart of the valley, a village was still asleep.
The ritual was a simple one. Her assistant Lee would procure a specific type of soil from the area, and then she would summon a spirit. Or rather, many spirits. Legions. The soldiers accompanying her would have to stand guard while she did so, giving her curious glances. They were not happy to be here on this mission they did not understand.
When the wailing started, even Lee's hand went for his weapon, although he barely knew how to use it.
Of their own free will, the wraiths set forth toward the village. Griselda and her unit heard a commotion down there as people were awaken to the sounds of wandering spirits, their eerie voices lamenting their misfortune and crying their rage.
For the following days, Griselda performed the same ritual over and over again, sleeping when she could, which was close to never.
The war ended before the next full moon.
The ghosts, however, did not leave. They roamed the land restlessly, haunting conquerors and conquered alike.
"They roamed the land restlessly, haunting conquerors and conquered alike."
Haunting shit