Day 2: ChatGPT Helps a Writer Meet a Deadline
Please note: The person who compared my diary to the daily updates of Dylan Mulvaney is asked not to make further comments.
Day 2
Woke up early — 11 a.m. Email from Janice. Theo fuming. Where are the articles that were due yesterday?
I rang her. Started to tell her I wrote 27 words yesterday for my “Being Content” piece, but she talked over me.
“Ten articles a day, 500 words each, to be mailed daily. In the contract — page 5, near the bottom.”
Yes, I had signed it. No, I didn’t want to be billed for the full amount on the computer Theo had rented me. Yes, I was a very silly boy.
While Janice was talking I looked out the window. They’d cleaned up the blood after the wheelchair incident. Ten articles a day? No one could do that.
“Do you want to talk to Theo?” she said. I said no, could she explain further. She’s easier on the ears than Theo.
She laid out the deal.
Theo provides a wonderful opportunity for new writers. He supplies the computer at a fair rental price along with writing accounts he controls. He makes 27% on all earnings. The writers keep what remains, less computer rental fees and sundry expenses.
During the initial probation period, all writings go through Theo for approval.
“When do I get paid?” I asked.
Janice explained patiently, as if to an idiot. I get paid when the articles earn money, which is held in Theo’s business account.
“The more you write — the more you get paid.”
“Better get started, Mark,” she said, and put the phone down.
Woke up early — 11 a.m. Email from Janice. Theo fuming. Where are the articles that were due yesterday?
I rang her. Started to tell her I wrote 27 words yesterday for my “Being Content” piece, but she talked over me.
“Ten articles a day, 500 words each, to be mailed daily. In the contract — page 5, near the bottom.”
Yes, I had signed it. No, I didn’t want to be billed for the full amount on the computer Theo had rented me. Yes, I was a very silly boy.
While Janice was talking I looked out the window. They’d cleaned up the blood after the wheelchair incident. Ten articles a day? No one could do that.
“Do you want to talk to Theo?” she said. I said no, could she explain further. She’s easier on the ears than Theo.
She laid out the deal.
Theo provides a wonderful opportunity for new writers. He supplies the computer at a fair rental price along with writing accounts he controls. He makes 27% on all earnings. The writers keep what remains, less computer rental fees and sundry expenses.
During the initial probation period, all writings go through Theo for approval.
“When do I get paid?” I asked.
Janice explained patiently, as if to an idiot. I get paid when the articles earn money, which is held in Theo’s business account.
“The more you write — the more you get paid.”
“Better get started, Mark,” she said, and put the phone down.
Ten 500-word pieces due yesterday. Another ten today. Minus twenty-seven words already written.
An hour later, I had written another twenty-two words when Dave knocked on the door. He’s not worked since our cat-napping venture went south. I explained my problem.
Dave had done a computer course in prison, part of his rehab. “No problem,” he said. “Use AI.”
He showed me this thing on the computer. You type in ‘Give me 1,000 words about a squirrel’ and it does it in seconds.
I asked Dave if it did other animals too. He thought I was joking. Yeah, sure I was.
Twenty minutes later, we had all the pieces I needed. I nearly kissed Dave. Not in that way — in the gruff, men-together way rugby players might when scoring an enormously manly try.
We waited until 4:30 p.m. so it would look like I had been working hard. Mailed twenty articles, plus my “Being Content” effort to Janice. “Theo is going to love those,” I said to Dave.
We celebrated long into the night. Writing is a piece of cake.
Can’t wait for the big money to roll in.
An hour later, I had written another twenty-two words when Dave knocked on the door. He’s not worked since our cat-napping venture went south. I explained my problem.
Dave had done a computer course in prison, part of his rehab. “No problem,” he said. “Use AI.”
He showed me this thing on the computer. You type in ‘Give me 1,000 words about a squirrel’ and it does it in seconds.
I asked Dave if it did other animals too. He thought I was joking. Yeah, sure I was.
Twenty minutes later, we had all the pieces I needed. I nearly kissed Dave. Not in that way — in the gruff, men-together way rugby players might when scoring an enormously manly try.
We waited until 4:30 p.m. so it would look like I had been working hard. Mailed twenty articles, plus my “Being Content” effort to Janice. “Theo is going to love those,” I said to Dave.
We celebrated long into the night. Writing is a piece of cake.
Can’t wait for the big money to roll in.