Recreating Creative Writing: Can ChatGPT Write a Short Story? (part 4 of 5)

July 24, 2023 Recreating Creative Writing: Can ChatGPT Write a Short Story? (part 4 of 5)

It’s taken me four posts (my earlier attempts are here, here, and here), but I think I’m ready to answer the opening question:

Can ChatGPT “write” a story?

Sort of.

Depends on your definition of “write.” In the old sense, where an author conjures sentences from their head, I “wrote” about a thousand words into ChatGPT, but almost none appear in the story, which is over 3,000 words. I selected portions of the output as I went along, moving toward some kind of closure as I got within the page range for drafts in my Intro to Fiction Writing course.

ChatGPT didn’t just spit out a draft. I did a lot of nudging and shaping, but my behavior seems more like a stage director or cattle herder than a “writer.” I used no ideas of my own. I asked for a list of locations, selected one, then had it describe a character and then a second character. After that, I just steered, backtracked occasionally, and typed “sensory images” a lot.

Is this “writing”? I’m not sure. Should students in a creative writing course be doing this? I doubt it. Is this good writing? Absolutely not. But I’ve read worse first drafts in my fiction classes, and like those, there’s plenty here to workshop and revise effectively.

Would I be able to identify a draft made in ChatGPT this way? Probably, but only because of the time I’ve spent tinkering with it myself and have gotten to know its quirks. Will ChatGPT4 (which is ready but not released yet) or ChatGPT5 (which I’m helping to train with all my inputs) produce more impressive results? Undoubtedly. I’ve been warned to expect an exponential leap.

Since these kinds of programs are often misunderstood, please keep these three facts in mind when working with ChatGPT:

1. It can’t read. It’s sorting pixels (shaped into words), not meanings.

2. Every time you type something into the program, it’s preceded by the implicit command, “Make a common arrangement of words extending the following arrangement of words:”

3. It’s a mediocrity machine.

I could say a lot more, but first you should evaluate my ChatGPT3 story yourself. I’ll paste the whole thing here, followed by my input log, leaving the outputs for you to infer. The full log is 7,500 words, which means I used less than half of what it gave me. Since you already know how the story was created, you can’t be fooled into believing that someone composed each sentence old-school style.

Unless of course this is a hoax and I’m only pretending to have used ChatGPT.

Maybe this is a rough draft from one of my former students?

You really think you can tell the difference?

***

Unspoken Trails

Evelyn stepped inside the Grand Canyon visitor center, feeling the cool air brush against her skin. The spacious, well-lit interior buzzed with excited chatter, and the scent of fresh pine filled the air. Sunlight streamed through large windows, casting warm beams that danced across the polished wooden floors. The sound of shuffling footsteps mixed with the gentle hum of informative videos playing on large screens.

As Evelyn approached the information desk, she noticed a middle-aged man entering the room. He had a sturdy build and appeared to be in his early forties, with neatly combed salt-and-pepper hair and a faint smile playing on his lips. Wearing a light blue collared shirt with rolled-up sleeves and khaki cargo shorts, he exuded an air of eagerness to explore. His worn hiking boots squeaked softly on the polished floors as he strode purposefully. Behind a pair of polarized sunglasses, his eyes scanned the room with curiosity gleaming within them. With a calm and confident demeanor, he approached the information desk, ready for his own adventure through the wonders of the Grand Canyon.

“Planning to explore the Grand Canyon?” Evelyn asked, her tone friendly yet curious.

He chuckled dryly, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Yeah, thought I’d give it a shot. Heard it’s just a big ol’ hole in the ground.”

Raising an eyebrow, annoyance seeping into her words, Evelyn responded, “Well, it’s much more than that. It’s a natural wonder, breathtaking and awe-inspiring.”

He smirked, skepticism dripping from his voice. “Right, just a bunch of rocks. I’ve seen plenty of those.”

Taking a deep breath to keep her composure, Evelyn replied, “Believe me, once you stand at the edge and take it all in, you’ll understand.”

His smirk faded slightly, replaced by a flicker of curiosity. “Is that so? Well, I guess I’ll find out for myself then.”

As the line slowly inched forward, a hushed silence settled between Evelyn and the man, the previous tension lingering in the air. The man stood directly behind her, his presence felt as a subtle heat against the back of her neck. The murmurs of conversation weaved around them, creating a backdrop of distant whispers. A faint breeze wafted through the open windows, carrying with it the crisp scent of pine, mingling with the anticipation in the room. Sunlight filtered through the glass, casting a warm glow on the polished wooden floor, while the soft hum of the air conditioning provided a gentle white noise. The person in front of her engaged in a lively conversation with the ranger, their voices interweaving like distant melodies, occasionally catching snippets of information. In this suspended moment, they waited, surrounded by the anticipation of the Grand Canyon’s wonders, an unspoken tension lingering between Evelyn and the man.

“I couldn’t help but notice the book you’re holding. Is it any good? I’m always on the lookout for a captivating read,” the man inquired, his voice friendly and curious.

“Pride and Prejudice,” Evelyn responded, her eyes momentarily drifting downward to the book in her hands. She focused on the cover art and text, furrowing her brows. With a subtle movement, she lifted the book closer to her face, adjusting her grip to find comfort. The firmness and texture of the book against her skin felt familiar, as her fingers delicately cradled its weight. The cover, smooth and cool, offered a sense of anticipation. As she raised it, the pages rustled softly, releasing a faint, comforting scent of ink and paper. The book felt substantial yet intimate, forging a connection between the written words and her own thoughts. “Don’t assume you know anything about me just because of this book,” Evelyn asserted.

He raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Fair enough.” With his response, he leaned casually against the nearby counter, crossing his arms in a relaxed manner, exuding an air of nonchalance. As Evelyn stepped forward to the information desk, she noticed the man standing uncomfortably close, invading her personal space. A shiver ran down her spine, causing her muscles to tense with unease. The overpowering scent of his cologne, a blend of musk and citrus, engulfed her senses, intensifying her discomfort.

The man, his presence looming, unexpectedly broke the silence with a jovial tone. “You know, waiting in line is such a mundane affair. Why not make it more interesting? Let’s play a game of ‘Guess the Ranger’s Favorite Hiking Trail.’ Winner buys the loser a cup of coffee?” His suggestion caught Evelyn off guard, his lightheartedness contrasting with her tense state.

Evelyn’s gaze wandered toward a map mounted on the nearby wall, showcasing the intricate network of hiking trails in the Grand Canyon. The map was large and prominently displayed, featuring vibrant colors that caught her attention. The background of the map was a light beige, reminiscent of the canyon’s sandy hues. It provided a warm and earthy backdrop for the trails and landmarks depicted on the map.

The trails on the map were delineated with varying shades of green, ranging from light moss to deep forest tones. Each trail meandered through the map, weaving its way around the canyons and cliffs, creating a mesmerizing labyrinth of routes to explore. The paths seemed to converge and diverge, intersecting and intertwining like veins on a leaf.

As sunlight filtered through the large windows of the visitor center, beams of light cascaded into the room, casting long shadows that danced upon the map’s surface. The play of light and shadow brought depth to the map, accentuating the contours and elevations of the terrain. Some areas were bathed in a warm, golden glow, while others remained cloaked in subtle darkness, hinting at the hidden depths of the canyon.

Evelyn’s eyes scanned the map, trying to discern the names of the trails. She leaned in closer, squinting as she attempted to make out the intricate lettering. The names appeared in a legible font, neatly printed alongside the trails, but the distance and the map’s size made it challenging for her to read all of them. Despite her efforts, only one trail name became clear to her—Bright Angel Trail. The name stood out with its bold black letters against a light green background, beckoning her with an air of intrigue and mystery.

The man’s eyes scanned the map alongside Evelyn’s, his finger tracing the lines of the trails. Suddenly, his gaze settled on a particular trail, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. With a confident voice, he pointed to a trail and pronounced, “Rim Trail.”

His voice carried a smooth timbre, resonating with a touch of warmth and depth. There was a subtle hint of an accent in his speech, hinting at a heritage from the southern United States. The accent added a charming nuance to his words, infusing them with a distinctive cadence and rhythm. It was a hint of a drawl, softening the consonants and elongating certain vowels, lending his voice a melodic quality.

As he pronounced “Rim Trail,” his voice embraced the name with an almost reverent tone, emphasizing each word with careful enunciation. The consonants rolled off his tongue, and the vowels were shaped with a graceful fluidity. It was as if he not only read the name but also conveyed a sense of familiarity and appreciation for the trail, as if he had traversed its path and experienced its wonders firsthand.

The mention of “Rim Trail” in his rich, melodious voice sparked Evelyn’s curiosity. The name resonated with the expansive beauty of the Grand Canyon, conjuring images of breathtaking vistas and the magnificent expanse of the canyon’s rim. It piqued her interest and added another layer of intrigue to her exploration of the hiking trails.

The man, his voice laced with a tinge of excitement, confidently declares his bet on the Rim Trail. As he does so, he reaches into his back pocket and withdraws his wallet, presenting it to Evelyn. The wallet, well-worn and weathered, bears the marks of countless adventures and travels. Its brown leather exterior has faded in some areas, giving it a rugged and aged appearance.

The wallet’s surface is adorned with intricate stitching, adding a touch of craftsmanship to its worn character. As Evelyn’s gaze traces its contours, she notices a small embossed emblem on the front—a compass rose, a symbol of exploration and discovery. The faint smell of leather wafts from the wallet, carrying with it a hint of nostalgia and adventure.

With a slight flick of his thumb, the man deftly opens the wallet, revealing its contents. Within its folds, various compartments hold an assortment of cards, receipts, and mementos. Among them, a crumpled dollar bill catches Evelyn’s attention.

The bill is slightly worn, with softened edges and faint creases that speak of its journey through countless hands. Its green hue, though faded in places, still carries a sense of value and possibility. In the corners, flecks of dirt hint at the bill’s encounters with the world—a reminder of the bustling commerce and exchanges it has witnessed.

As the man slides the bill out from its place, Evelyn notices a handwritten message on it, barely legible. The ink has smudged and blurred over time, leaving only fragments of words and symbols. It’s a curious sight, an enigmatic artifact that adds to the intrigue surrounding the man and his wallet.

The man holds the bill up between his fingers, his eyes glinting with a mischievous spark. “Care to make it interesting?” he suggests, a playful challenge laced in his words. The combination of the worn wallet and the mysterious bill in his hand adds an air of intrigue to the proposed wager, leaving Evelyn to wonder about the stories they hold and the secrets they may reveal.

“I’ll bet on the Bright Angel Trail,” she declares, her voice steady and unwavering. The words carry a hint of conviction, as if she has a personal connection to that particular trail, a confidence in its challenges and rewards.

Her choice hangs in the air, creating a brief moment of suspense between them. The man’s eyebrows raise slightly, a glimmer of curiosity shining in his eyes as he takes in Evelyn’s response. The stage is set, and the Grand Canyon awaits their exploration, each with their chosen path and a wager on the line.

As the man continued speaking, an annoying and strange habit revealed itself. In a peculiar manner, he intermittently tapped his fingers on the information desk, creating an odd, irregular rhythm that grated against Evelyn’s senses. Each tap echoed in her ears, becoming increasingly bothersome with every repetition.

His actions seemed purposefully off-putting, a deliberate attempt to unsettle her. The tapping grew louder and more pronounced, the sharp sound cutting through the ambient noise of the visitor center. It disrupted the flow of conversation around them, drawing attention to his peculiar behavior and heightening Evelyn’s irritation.

With each tap, a tingling sensation crawled up her spine, exacerbating her growing annoyance. The rhythmic disturbance seemed to invade her personal space, permeating the air and magnifying her discomfort. It felt like an unwelcome intrusion, an intentional disruption designed to unsettle and unnerve.

Evelyn couldn’t help but cast a sideways glance at the man, her brows furrowing in a mix of confusion and frustration. His tapping continued unabated, his fingers striking the desk with a repetitive insistence. It was a peculiar display, an eccentricity that only served to deepen the enigmatic aura surrounding him, leaving Evelyn even more unsettled in his presence.

The once inviting air inside the room now felt stifling, suffocating her with its lack of freshness. The temperature seemed to rise, making her skin prickle with discomfort, while a slight clamminess formed on her palms.

The spacious interior, once filled with vibrant energy, now felt constricting. The excited chatter of fellow visitors transformed into a cacophony that grated on her ears, each voice blending into an indistinguishable jumble of noise. The scent of fresh pine that had initially delighted her now seemed overpowering, its intensity invading her nostrils and causing a subtle headache to pulse at her temples.

Sunlight, once casting warm and enchanting beams, now appeared harsh and glaring. The sharp angles of light pierced through the large windows, creating distracting patterns and casting unsettling shadows across the polished wooden floors. The shuffling footsteps that had blended harmoniously with the ambient noise now grated against her nerves, each step echoing like an unwelcome intrusion.

Evelyn’s annoyance grew, causing her muscles to tense, and a knot formed in the pit of her stomach. The room, once filled with anticipation and excitement, now felt claustrophobic, amplifying her unease. She longed for a moment of solitude and respite from the overwhelming sensory assault, yearning for a quiet corner where she could collect her thoughts and find solace from the mounting tension.

She turns slightly towards the man, meeting his gaze, and offers a polite smile. In a measured tone, she speaks, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness.

“You seem to have quite the rhythm there. I’m curious, are you a musician by any chance?”

The man’s tapping fingers pause mid-air as Evelyn’s question catches his attention. He tilts his head slightly, considering her words, and then lets out a hearty chuckle, his voice resonating with a touch of amusement.

“You’ve got a keen ear! While I dabble in music as a hobby, I’m afraid I can’t claim the title of a professional musician.”

As he speaks, a mischievous glint sparkles in his eyes, and he withdraws his hand, placing it casually in his pocket. His tapping ceases, the rhythm interrupted by Evelyn’s comment. He seems intrigued by her attempt to divert the focus from the tapping, his curiosity piqued.

“Is music something you enjoy?” he asks.

As Evelyn momentarily drifts into her memory, her eyes lose focus, fixating on an invisible point in the distance. The faint strains of a melancholic melody echo in her mind, evoking a vivid recollection. She remembers sitting alone in a dimly lit room, the air heavy with the scent of old books and dust. Moonlight spills through a cracked window, casting haunting shadows on the worn wooden floor. The sound of a broken record player fills the silence, the needle tracing its weary path along the grooves, producing a distorted symphony of crackles and pops. A tattered photograph lies forgotten on the table, capturing a moment frozen in time, forever tainted by the weight of lost dreams.

She looks at the man, her voice tinged with annoyance, and remarks, “Music these days is nothing but a cacophony of noise. It lacks the soul and depth it used to have.”

The man’s eyebrows raise in surprise, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. He chuckles softly and responds with an odd sentence, “Well, I guess you haven’t heard the melodious symphony of a trash can lid orchestra then.”

The ranger finishes her conversation with the previous visitor, offering them directions to a nearby hiking trail. As Evelyn steps up to the information desk, the ranger greets her with a warm smile. “Hello! How can I assist you today?” Evelyn takes a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking, her eyes scanning the ranger’s name tag, which reads ‘Sarah.’ With a polite tone, Evelyn asks, “Could you provide me with some recommendations for scenic viewpoints in the Grand Canyon?” Sarah’s eyes light up.

The man steps forward, leaning slightly towards the desk, interrupting their conversation. His movement causes Evelyn to instinctively take a step back, creating a slight distance between them. His voice cuts through the air, his tone expectant yet casual. “Hey, just a quick question. Any insider tips on the Rim Trail?”

Evelyn stands upright, leaning forward slightly. Her shoulders are squared, and her head tilts to the side. Her eyes are fixed on Sarah, the ranger. Her feet are firmly planted on the ground.

“Excuse me, Sarah, I have a quick question about the Bright Angel Trail.”

Sarah blinks rapidly, her eyes widening for a moment. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, and her lips part slightly as she pauses. She shifts her weight slightly from one foot to the other, a subtle sign of uncertainty. Her hand hovers momentarily over the keyboard before she recovers, her gaze darting between Evelyn and the man.

Sarah clears her throat and replies, “Actually, have you considered hiking the South Kaibab Trail? It offers stunning panoramic views and is a favorite among many visitors.”

The man’s shoulders slump ever so slightly, a subtle deflation of his previously confident posture. His lips tighten into a thin line, and a fleeting disappointment passes across his face, momentarily overshadowing his usual lighthearted expression.

Evelyn’s eyes widen imperceptibly, a faint glimmer of satisfaction flickering within them. Her lips form a barely noticeable smile, as if a small victory had been achieved. She maintains her composed demeanor, masking any overt signs of triumph, but a subtle sense of contentment radiates from her.

“Thank you for your help, Sarah,” Evelyn says, her voice filled with genuine gratitude, before turning away and heading towards the exit, a hint of accomplishment in her stride.

The man watches her intently, his gaze lingering on her retreating figure. A subtle smirk plays on his lips, a mix of amusement and intrigue dancing in his eyes. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small notepad, scribbling down a quick note before tucking it away with a satisfied nod.

“Be cautious of the shadows, for they hold secrets only the canyon knows,” he says, his voice dropping to a mysterious whisper.

Evelyn’s heart quickens, sending a rush of adrenaline through her veins. Her breath catches in her throat, causing a slight tightening in her chest. She feels a mix of intrigue and a tinge of unease, a prickling sensation that raises the hairs on the back of her neck. A subtle chill runs down her spine, leaving a trail of heightened awareness in its wake.

“Maybe I’ll find that mysterious moon on my next adventure!” Evelyn calls back, her voice carrying a playful tone.

Evelyn steals a final glance at the man, taking in his transformed appearance. He stands tall, his figure outlined by the soft, warm glow of the afternoon sunlight filtering through the windows. The angle of light creates long, stretching shadows behind him, emphasizing his height and adding a touch of mystery to his silhouette. His posture appears more relaxed now, a subtle shift in his stance suggesting a newfound ease. A faint smile graces his lips, and his eyes twinkle with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. In this fleeting moment, he embodies a sense of enigma, leaving an impression that lingers in Evelyn’s mind as she turns away and continues her journey.

***

That’s the story draft, literally every word taken from ChatGPT’s output. Now here’s everything I typed into it:

1. list three specific locations

2. Describe being at a Grand Canyon visitor center. Use very specific detail and sensory images. Keep it to one paragraph of no more than ten sentences. Write in present tense.

3. From the perspective of the person in that paragraph, describe them noticing someone else entering the visitor center. Describe the person in specific details, their body, their exact clothes, their expression, their demeanor. Use sensory details. Keep the diction simple. No more then ten sentences.

4. The narrator and the man exchange four lines of dialogue. Their styles of speech are different from each other’s. Their dialogue suggests some kind of tension between them.

5. What might happen next? List three possibilities.

6. Replace this statement with a detailed exchange using exact dialogue and sensory images. Keep describing sensory details about the man, the narrator, and the room they are in.

7. The two are silent as they continue to wait in line at the information desk. He is directly behind her. Another person is in front of her talking to the ranger. Describe the moment in detail, using new sensory details. No more than ten sentences.

8. The man speaks to her and she turns around. What might he say? List three very different possibilities.

9. Give three more examples, but have none be about the Grand Canyon at all.

10. What book is she holding? List five.

11. Describe the narrator looking down at her book and then raising it. Capture the exact physical details of her motions. What does the book feel like in her hand?

12. What does she say to the man? list five possibilities.

13. The book is Pride and Prejudice. But she says something else about it to the man. List five possibilities

14. She says one sentence about Pride and Prejudice. It has something surprising and personal to do with her. list five ideas.

15. No. Have her say something more aggressive and off-putting to the man. For some reason his noticing the book upsets her. Keep her sentences short.

16. She says, “Don’t assume you know anything about me just because of this book.” What does he say back? Keep it short and unexpected and not directly about the book. Describe his physical actions as she speaks.

17. The narrator goes to the information desk now because it’s her turn. the man is there too. how close is he standing? how does the narrator feel physically? Make is something negative reflecting her tension. have the man say something new that’s completely unexpected. Keep using exact sensory details but new ones. no more than ten sentences.

18. Rewrite this scene so that it is all in third person and past tense. the person at the beginning is a woman. give her a striking name.

19. Evelyn looks at a map on the nearby wall that has all of the hiking trails. Describe the map in detail including its colors and the light and shadows hitting it in the room. have evelyn try to read the names of the trails but she can only make out one name.

20. the man reads aloud the name of a different trail. what is it called? what is his voice like? does it have a slight accent that hints at where he’s from?

21. But then eveyln feels suddenly annoyed. describe negative physical sensations in her body. describe the room in negative sensory detail

22. the man does something as he stands talking. the something is annoying and strange and off-putting

23. the man says he bets on rim trail. and wants to wager money, he pulls out his wallet, describe the wallet in detail and the bill he pulls out in more detail.

24. evelyn accepts the bet and names the hike she’s betting on.

25. go back to when evelyn was still annoyed at the tapping noise he was making. what does she say to the man? she wants him to stop but she doesn’t want to reveal that it’s bothering her

26. what does the man do and say in response? be specific

27. evelyn remembers a very specific memory involving music. it is a negative memory. Describe in five sentences using exact details and sensory image. she doesn’t say this to him.

28. she lies to the man saying something brief about music

29. Regenerate response

30. have her say something unrelated and negative about music

31. how does the man react? what does he say in one odd sentence?

32. it’s now her turn at the information desk. the ranger says something to her, and then she steps up

33. the man interrupts physically moving forward, asking about the trail he bet on

34. describe the book in evelyn’s hand again. how does it feel now. why is she still holding it?

35. evelyn interrupts sarah, with one sentence

36. describe evelyn’s posture as she says that

37. do that again but using just the physical descriptions and none of the interpretations of what they mean

38. briefly but in exact detail describe how sarah reacts to be asked two questions at the same time

39. what does sarah say? no more than two sentences

40. no have her say something not in response to either of the two trails they named.

41. briefly show the man’s reaction to what sarah said, and then show evelyn’s reaction too

42. no how does the man react to the fact that he didn’t win the bet? don’t mention the bet. just describe his physical reaction

43. now describe evelyn’s reaction

44. evelyn says one thing to sarah before leaving

45. what does the man do as evelyn heads for the exit?

46. he says one thing to her. one sentence. it’s unexpected.

47. no more unexpected

48. no make it stranger

49. evelyn looks back. how does she feel at that moment. use only physical details that suggest emotion.

50. she calls back to the man making fun of what he said

51. what exactly does she say?

52. describe her final view of the man. how does he look now? height, shape, angle of light and shadow, posture,

53. suggest ten titles for this story

.

And so what does that all say about the state of Creative Writing?

I’m still not ready to answer that question.

But ChatGPT is always ready.

54. What is going to happen to college creative writing classes now that ChatGPT is available to students?

ChatGPT:

“The availability of ChatGPT and similar language models may have an impact on college creative writing classes, but it is important to consider several factors:

1. Complementary Tool: ChatGPT can be seen as a valuable tool for writers to explore ideas, gain inspiration, and overcome writer’s block. It can offer prompts, generate creative suggestions, and serve as a writing companion. In this sense, it can complement traditional creative writing classes.
2. Limitations of AI: While ChatGPT can generate text and provide suggestions, it lacks human experience, creativity, and critical thinking. Creative writing classes offer a collaborative environment where students receive personalized feedback, engage in discussions, and develop their unique voices. The human touch and guidance provided by instructors and peers cannot be replicated by AI alone.
3. Skill Development: Creative writing classes focus not only on generating ideas but also on developing writing skills such as narrative structure, character development, dialogue, and descriptive techniques. These classes provide valuable guidance, feedback, and opportunities for students to practice and refine their craft.
4. Peer Interaction: College creative writing classes often involve workshops, group discussions, and peer reviews, fostering a supportive community of writers. The social aspect of these classes allows for collaboration, sharing of perspectives, and the opportunity to learn from peers.
5. Individual Growth: Creative writing classes encourage personal growth, self-expression, and the exploration of one’s unique voice. The process of writing, receiving feedback, and revising helps students refine their skills, develop their own style, and gain a deeper understanding of the creative process.

“While ChatGPT can be a useful tool, it is unlikely to replace the rich learning experience offered by college creative writing classes. These classes provide a structured environment, mentorship, and a community of writers that foster growth, skill development, and the cultivation of individual creativity.”

• Leave a comment
• Posted under Uncategorized